Patrolling the coast of China in the summer of 1953 on the USS Gurke DD-783, Lt. jg. Carroll Briggs, age twenty-five, was consumed by thoughts of a young woman named Ardith Morrisseau back in California. Briggs had been engaged to another girl a year earlier, but his fiancée ended the relationship in May 1952. Briggs was crushed. “I tied your letters / In a neat bundle,” he would later write in a poem recalling his heartache, “With my 1928 silver dollar / And dropped them / Off the fantail / Into the sea …” In the fall of 1952, when the Gurke returned to its home port of San Diego for a seven-month rotation, Briggs and Morrisseau began dating. But Briggs had still not recovered from his break-up, and when he could not commit to a more long-term relationship with Morrisseau, she curtly informed him, “Never darken my door again.” Back to sea in March 1953, Briggs wrote to Morrisseau and was resoundingly ignored. But after a few more persistent letters, Morrisseau began to warm to him. She was not, however, going to make things easy, and, after Briggs waxed nostalgic about moments they had shared before his departure, she responded on May 19 with a mild rebuff:
Reminiscing is fun—but make sure you don’t connect the wrong feelings with the memories. Don’t put things there that weren’t. For instance, as I recall—both the nite we stopped at Santa Cruz and the time you stepped on my shoe (which, incidentally, is now fixed) we were both trying to create something that wasn’t. Remember also the fun and companionship we really did have, though. What I’m trying to say is don’t remember something into a situation that wasn’t there, and don’t leave out what was there. Don’t get any ideas from things that have happened. Let’s accept what we have—which certainly is something—and go on from there. Don’t worry—if there is or could be more—it will take care of itself—
Much to Briggs’s elation, there was more, and by the summer of 1953 their affection was slowly catching fire again. They had both been dating other people, and they both ended these relationships. This proved more problematic for Briggs, however, who had been receiving torrid love letters from a girl he had met while at San Diego’s Naval Training Center the previous summer. Briggs lamented to Morrisseau how difficult the situation was, but promised her it was over and sent her a few small gifts as well (It cannot, alas, be determined what the gifts were.) Morrisseau addressed Briggs’s ordeal in a letter dated June 2, 1953.
Carroll Gray Briggs,
What am I going to do with you?
They’re very beautiful, of course—but why me? I just don’t understand. Besides, I thought you were saving your money. This sounds as though I don’t appreciate them—I really do—but—oh to heck with it—thank you very much, they’re lovely. I don’t understand men in general, and you in particular—and let’s leave it at that.
My last letter must have left you in suspense. I forgot to send the cartoon I referred to. Let’s hope I remember to send it this time.
I don’t mind your reminiscing—in fact, I like to do it myself—I just don’t want it to lead you astray—if that’s the right phrase.
It’s a good think thingk (ye gads I can’t think straight) thing (there) you’re not here—I think I could talk for hours—afraid you wouldn’t even have a chance to get one word in edgewise. Well, maybe one.
Well, to start with, I don’t mind your “blowing off steam” to me. (I’m used to it.) I do wish you’d stop getting yourself in such messes, though. Yes, it’s your own fault. You should be able to handle it differently I don’t know how you acted before you left, but at any rate—you were all right up to that point. Your trouble was in not setting her straight when she began writing that you didn’t want her to write. For heaven’s sake—no girl likes to be squelched, as the saying goes, but it’s a darned sight nicer to be stopped before you’ve made a fool of yourself. It’s not as though you didn’t like her. (Although, that sometimes makes it tougher.) Most girls like to know where they stand, and appreciate straightforwardness in a fellow. (There are exceptions!) You have to make up your mind what you want out of the relationship, and let her know. Then it’s her perrogative to accept or not on your terms. This cuts many beautiful friendships down, but who wants someone that doesn’t want them? Maybe none of this is applicable—but—anyway—take it for what it’s worth.
“I remember, I remember, the day” … or should I say night after the party at Stetson’s. Maybe it was the excitement, maybe the atmosphere, maybe the moon (was there one?) or maybe two kids who had managed to make something tangible out of something intangible—if only for one evening—who knows. At any rate, if that “magic” remains illusive, at least we caught it once. It’s sort of nice to remember things like that, isn’t it?
I didn’t think the boat ride was such a flop—I enjoyed it! So there, too! Your almost right on the phonetics. Maybe I’ll explain further, at a later date—when I’m at a loss for something to write—or say—or—
Ardi
By the middle of June, Briggs realized he was passionately in love with Morrisseau, and he wanted her to know that, although separated by 10,000 miles, he had never felt closer to her. (“Kilowana,” which Briggs refers to in the letter, was the camp in the Silverado region of California where Morrisseau was a counselor.)
19th of June
2300
Ardith Morrisseau—
You ought to be ashamed of yourself, keeping me up like this—I should be getting a little sleep before going on watch but no—I lie down and WHOOSH, you come tromping thru my head and I lie and start thinking—well you know that’s quite a process. Young lady do you know what I think about—for instance the thing that really shook me out of bed to write—to write words which should be spoken—Was the terrifying thought that come October you might be some place else—Suppose,—suppose you went back east to that silly school or something like that—Do you know what I would have to do?—And don’t think I wouldn’t—
You know darn good and well what I’m thinking about and you are probably laughing (and I hope you are—) But this is a serious matter and I am warning you, I have done my very best to try not to make any leading statements—I just don’t need them—and that is that. My mind s made up—.
Now—see what you have done—in 40 minutes the messenger will be down here calling me—There isn’t any point in trying to go back to sleep—[go back to sleep heck, I never got to sleep]—so prepare your self for a harangue—If this is all you can take, then stop here otherwise, read on—
Come into my parlor—little fly!
So—you are gonna persist—(you had darn well better) Now that I am here, I don’t just exactly know what to say—Of course I could go ranting on as before—however maybe I had better save some of that for later. Just one little word of warning—Woman, you be available.
Now to pick up some kind of a thread of conversation (you will probably continue to read between the lines any way,—I might as well just spend the next (let me check,—) 30 minutes (my time passes quickly with you—would you mind spending the next four hours up on the bridge I’ll really bend your ears!) [to continue—] writing something like, “The quick brown men to come to the aid of the lazy dogs country” But in case…. Where in the Paren am I any way??
—Good, a new clean white piece of paper and I can start fresh anew. Ah the rippling streams of Kilowana in the hills of Silverado—What? No streams?—Well you can’t fool me about Silverado every thing in Calistoga Countree is called Silverado. Hey, teacher, teach me how to swim, I can’t swim a stroke!—
Guess I ran out of words, look at the doodling on the bottom of the page—yep,—I’m all run down—Nothing but real serious thoughts running thru my mind—Thoughts like the ones I was thinking one day as I drove from Monterey to Salinas—and from Monterey to Berkeley. Thoughts which I would like to speak—and very much like to write but am afraid to—for fear they will lose their magic
For they are magic thoughts Ardi—
If only I could speak them to you
Love—
Carroll
By August 1953 Briggs had made up his mind; Ardith Morrisseau was absolutely without question the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. He had said as much “in code” in one letter, but he recognized he had to do more than just hint. (Briggs and Morrisseau often tried to outwit one another by putting the first letter of each word of a sentence on the back of their envelopes. This could be as simple as “I. L. Y.”—for “I love you”—to “M. W. B. M. I. S. T. D. W. D. Y T.?”—which even Briggs, who wrote it, couldn’t decipher when Morriseau later challenged him on it.) On August 30, Briggs came one step closer to formally asking Morrisseau to marry him.
Sunday Nite 30 Aug.
Hi Sweet Heart—
Shall we go for a ride?—No telling what might come out on here to nite—so watch out—I am in a kind of philosophical mood—
Lets talk about ‘Lil Ardith Morrisseau—You know her? She’s a pretty special girl. I have learned a lot about her in the last few years and everything seems to indicate that—Gosh, what do I say here? The idea that should be conveyed is that she has very high ideals and lives up to them—I guess that says it as well as anything—Did you know that she is very artistic?—(No, I am not speaking as one who desires to be artistic himself—I am speaking as a “student of human nature”—We all are you know!) But look at the way she works with design—She has an excellent sense of design—and very much of an individual style. In the confused world of today an individual style in design is a rather hard attainment yet it is quite natural with her.
I remember, one nite I drove up to see her—Don’t remember just when—That’s not important anyway—but I drove down Clay Street—and there she was down at the end—out in the street—in an old leather jacket and Levis playing some sort of game with the kids. I stopped and watched for almost a half hour—then drove on—she was enjoying herself so much that I didn’t even bother her—
Do you know what she told me in a letter once?—She said—She said—“Regardless of what else I have written—and dependent on talks after you get back I think I can honestly write that I do want you, Carroll—Love Ardi”—Isn’t that wonderful—That was the 30th of July—Since then, a lot has been said—and gone on—I can’t say that I have grown more sure of my—self—intentions—since then,—Because I have already reached the most sure point—I think if you read back a few months, you can find where it was—Most sure.
This Ardith Morrisseau—sometimes Ardi—and sometimes (real privately—) Ardito—(Remember the purse seiner—you always said it was named for you). She is pretty wonderful—No, most wonderful—and I love her very much—.
Gosh Ardi—here we are almost to San Simeon—guess we’d better turn around and go back.—You are always complaining about me keeping you up too late—know how to solve that problem—!—Do you know what the trouble with this letter is?—Well, there is something I am just dying to tell you—But I am not gonna untill I find out for sure—I put it on the back of a letter once in initials—(several weeks back)—Since then it looks even more likely—! Now don’t get too big ideas—This is just a small thing but—I’ve already talked too much—
Ken Masters and I ate dinner down at the club tonite—had a buffet dinner pretty good. After dinner, we went down town and bought some photo chemicals—I will have some time Wednesday nite—and will see if I can make some more prints for you—maybe I will get some films developed on the Base tomorrow.
Well Ardi—I guess I have about talked myself out tonite—Some of it got on paper—I have been writing this since 9:30 now it’s almost 11:30—so you can see, there was some blank time where just thoughts were going by—sometimes they get written down—Sometimes no&(Sometimes—I must admit,—I throw the paper away and start over—even tho I know that most of the time you seem to know exactly what I mean—)—
Really what I mean is so very simple—I love you Ardi—
I want you for my own always—
Love Carroll—
Soon after writing this, Briggs and several of his closest friends were in the Officers Club in Naha, Okinawa, discussing their sweethearts back home. Briggs was the only one who did not have a wife, and hearing his friends expound on their marriages and how profoundly happy they were, inspired him to make his own engagement official. Briggs grabbed the nearest piece of paper he could find—a coaster—went back to the ship and scribbled his proposal to Morrisseau. Later realizing this might not be the most romantic parchment for such a moment, Briggs wrote out a longer letter which he sent (along with the coaster, as a keepsake) to Morrisseau. For six long weeks there was no reply. Briggs’ letter and Morrisseau’s response, it turned out, were delayed by a typhoon. (Letters usually came every six days when a tanker would sidle up to the Gurke and unload food, mail, and fuel.) Morrisseau’s answer was yes, and on Sunday November 22, 1953, Carroll Briggs and Ardith Morrisseau were married in Carmel, California. They became the parents of three boys and two girls and remain happily married to this day.