SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION 
UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 
WASHINGTON. D. C. 20560 
December 15» 1964 
Maryarma Smellow 
Division of Buds 
Smithsonian Institution 
Washington 25» D.C. 
Dear Pollyanna s 
As you can see I(Philip Nicholiivonoviclobochesky Lehner) 
arrived safely on Johnston Island and looked across the lagoon 
to see that Sand Island w as still( what a damned shame) but there 
are fewer birds, more beer, my guitar is here and there is a nice 
bed with clean sheets on it for me to wallow in soil decided to stay 
and make my residence Eere for the next couple months and met Dr. 
Kirkpatrick, who immediately became my very close friend and colleague 
and w ho also does most of the work which leaves me alone to delve 
into my repetoire of delicious memories of civilization where I once 
could shut four letter words out my >window and some woman would 
either faint or a siren would begin to wail and come in my direction 
while here all I get is a loud &*$&$*?*$ which makes my attempt 
sound like Liberace trying to make time with Sonny Liston, so I've 
decided that the best way to stave off insanity is to cling to my 
memories and an old pair of banding pants which I carry over my 
shoulder at all times and chew on whenever I feel the .'world is 
pulling aw ay from me which it appears to be doing as I watch waves 
disappear in the distance below the beautiful sunset which brings 
romance to ray "mind" and I race back to my ward and whip out _ 
Fanny Hill and remind myself about all the things behind and then 
I pick up my guitar and strum the G string until my big toe begins 
to ache w hich causes me to chew harder into my bird banding pants 
and causes Doc to w retch and then I get angry for having caused 
so much discomfort and someone with a clothespin on his nose comes 
in and tries to grab my bird banding pants from me but crumples from 
asphyxia at ray feet and forces me to run down the causeway in search 
of peace and quiet w here I stick ray head into a Wedgetail burrow 
where I encounter a very fecal situation and lack of air which usually 
causes my cigar to go out and I have to withdraw ray head from the 
security of the burrow and face the reality that I have no matches 
and every square inch of both sticks on the island have layers of 
fresh frigate guano on them so I cannot rub them together to make 
fire but stick them in the pocket of my bird banding pants but they 
drop out on my w ay back to the w ard and the civilization of Sand 
Island where I am forced to drag myself into the mess deck for 
breakfast but w here I am thrown out because of my bird banding pants 
which makes me wonder w hy they call it a mess deck in the first 
place and secondly leads me to the statement that I am starving to 
death from lack of food and love and . 
Polly, is there still hope? 
