The Wyandotte news-herald. (Wyandotte, Mich.) 1943-1963, 1945-03-01
Ernie Pyle
Continued from Page a

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rupted with my own family I have
to plan it days ahead and then bar
the gates.
If the intrusions were by mere
publicity seekers, then I could get
tough. But the pressure upon me
is not from the publicty-seekers
or the curious.
Ninety per cent of the people who
phone, write, visit or stop me in pub
lie places have legitimate reasons
for doing so. They are people who
have done kind little things for me.
They are people who just want to tell
me, in complete sincerity, that they
think I've done good job-and a
fellow never gets tired of hearing
that.
They are people whose sons I've
known overseas; they are people who
write to tell me their sons are dead;
they are people who want to help in
something they're doing for the war;
people who have part in this pat
tern of war that has grown up
around me.
Yes, 80 per cent of the destruction
of my private life is from pure good
ness and sincerity in people, and
from unavoidable duties that have
become as much q part of my job
as the job itself.
have never aSpired to be famous
If had, then could say to myself,
"All right, brother, you made your
own bed, now lie in it"
But this thing just happened. 1t
came without planning or aspira-
ton. I guess it comes in the cate
CORY of an Act Of God, like blizzard
or slipping on banana peel.
You have to adjust yourself to this
new condition, or else you're lost.
You can't fight it. you can't ignore
it, you can't run away from it.
You've got to accept it. I do accept
it as graciouSly as I can, but I feel
sad about it.
feel sad because it has given
me the big things of life, and taken
away the precious little things.
1t has given me money, yet dread
to hear the telephone ring.
1t has brought me a measure of
renown, yet made me afraid to go
into restaurant because people
whisper and stare, and I feel self
conscious.
1t has put my book at the top of
the best-seller list, but robbed me
of the time to read other peoples
books.
1t has put me on easy terms with
the great, but forbidden me the priv
acy of sitting alone with my old
true friends.
1t has made my homely face
familiar throughout A merica,
but taken away that saving gift
of serenity of mind and soul. My
life now, day and night, is
frenzy. There is no mental
leisure in it; never the freedom
to sit down and let your mind
go blank.
I like people. 1 always have and
I still do. And so it hurts me to
have to shut off phone calls in
hotel. 1t hurts to turn letters over
to secretary. 1t hurts to have to
hide and cover like a criminal to
get just an hour or two to myself.
But that's the way it is. I don't
resent it, and I don't blame any
body. I'm grateful for the respect of
such great portion of America.
I'm trying to take the bad things
with the good, and get along the best
I can.
Sometimes I feel like sitting down
and crying because my old life is
gone. But most of the time see
what is behind it, and realize that a
man is blessed who is publicly OBJ
sessed by the goodness of people,
instead of the bad.
Out in California we've teamed
along with my boss and best friend
from Washington, Lee Miller, of the
Scripps-Howard newspapers.