11 ³⁰ Tuesday night

Dear Love:

I've arrived in Tampa after an interesting trip from New Orleans - 7 ³⁰ to 11- in a DC4. We went through some rough weather as we neared Tampa, and then, as we approached the field, we entered a strange rainfall, and the whole countryside was brightly lit by scores of great lightning flashes, the airport and all buildings being dark (the electrical storm had knocked out the power), except for a few (emergency) red lights marking the landing strips. The pilot circled the field twice, in order to be sure, I think, of his identification of landmarks under these unusual conditions, and then landed nicely.

The publicity man of Tampa University met me. He's a Whitehead - one of the Virginia Whiteheads, however, rather than of the Oxford clan - a pleasant young

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ex-Navy man who knows George Hall. I have a fancy suite here in the Tampa Terrace - Rm 721, here, I think: entrance hall, sitting room, bedroom, and bath. [an arrow drawn in by LP points to the location on the picture of the hotel on top of the letterhead] It is cool, because of the thunderstorm; in New Orleans it was very hot and sticky. I wore a doctor's white gown - a real "man in white". My plane reach New Orleans at 9 AM, and I reached the medical school - right next to the great Charity Hospital, with 4200 beds - at 10, or a bit before. I walked around the hospital, reading the signs "Entrance Emergency Patients, White"; then, a hundred feet on, "Entrance Emergency Patients, Colored";

and the same on the other side of the building, at the entrances for visitors.

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Dr. Burch told me that handles only negro patients, that he prefers them to whites because of their simple ways and their gratitude; and also because they have all the diseases the whites have and some others besides. He and I and six other men in white-young interns-then made tour of the wards, so that I could see some sickle-cell patients. We started with babies a few months old, the very young children, who were have attacks of anemia, edema [?] of hands and feet, pains. One baby, seven months old, and just had his spleen removed four days ago, after having been built up by transfusions (this opera-

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tion seems to help young sickle-cell patients). Then we saw a boy of 16, who looked 12, with spider-like hands and scars of little ulcers on his legs, and a girl of 22, who looked 14, and who had great nearly-healed ulcers and great scars.

I had lunch (cheese sandwich, coke, apple pie) with the doctors, and at 3 I talked to them - about 40- about our sickle-cell results. Then, at 5, Dr. Burch took me to the Restaurant Autonie [?] for a blow-out. We had a Sazerac, Bisque Ecreuisse [?], Pampano [sp ?] amandine avec pommes souffles, ice cream avec cerises flambees (with the lights turned out while the waiter ladeled the flaming sauce and cherries into the dishes) and New Orleans coffee, thick with chickory. Ten dollars. Then he took me to the airport, past the lines of oleanders beside the road and the great meadows of water hyacinths in the swamps.

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Much love to you and Peter and Linda and Crellie.

Your own

Paddy.