Dancing In a Jar (15 page)

Tomorrow night I think I’ll take her up on the high road for some fresh bread and butter at the Turpins, greeting the cows along on the way.

I’m anxious for some news from you about the strike. Mrs. G has written to say everyone is a little on edge. Keep your spirits up, darling, and hopefully Siebert will come through soon.

Although I miss our evenings around the radio, I have been enjoying the treat of having radio reception in the afternoon. I put Barbara down for her nap and turn on CBS to hear
The Kate Smith Matinee
. This is so wonderful and I wish we could listen together. I’m learning the words to “When the Moon Comes over the Mountain” and will serenade you when I’m home.

Yours always,
U

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

February 3, 1935

Dear Urla,

I wish I had something to report other than Siebert’s intransigence. He actually wrote that we wouldn’t be working that hard this time of year anyway and can afford to delay a few orders, claiming that shipping wouldn’t be possible until the Spring. He also suggested we could take on new men when they returned from the Winter fishery and then gear up production in April or May. I was impressed he knew about the Winter fishery but not by much else. He doesn’t seem to understand what a strike does to motivation and trust. He also seems to forget these men support families and a strike means no money at the hardest time of the year.

I have been keeping a low profile but did go with Mrs. G to the Candlemass service at the church last night. No one here has heard of the groundhog and instead everyone carried candles to the altar to be blessed and then the church was lit only by candlelight—a very moving affair.

Of course, it’s all about prayer around here now that Lent has started. After supper Mrs. G makes me a cup of coffee and I find that chair you loved to sit in, fill my pipe, and settle in. As soon as I hear “First Sorrowful Mystery: Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane” I know it’s my cue to leave. The whole family is on its knees in a circle around Mrs. G who clacks away on the prayer beads. Poor Walter always glances up at me as I tiptoe out and I’m sure he wants to escape too.

As I walk home I know that it’s the same picture in every house. If a meteorite were to hit the town at this moment, archaeologists would find the whole population on their knees, with the exception of one lone Methodist on the road.

That’s all for now from me. Not a very inspiring letter I know but I’m hoping something breaks soon. At least that’s what I asked Mrs. G to pray for last night.

Love to you both,
Don

St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

February 8, 1935

Dear Mom and Pop,

Thank you for your letter of January 21st. I hope the house has warmed up a little.

Things are quite tense here with the strike, but I wanted to let you know that mail is getting through. All the ice is gone from the harbor and freight is moving well. Ironically, all the lumber has arrived for the mill, a major project we will start in the Spring. I have to hand it to Siebert that he came through on that and somehow managed to get the tariffs lifted. Now if I could just get him to turn his attention to the strike. Although I don’t make this position known locally, I am pushing for a ten percent wage increase, and proper change facilities at the mine site.

I appreciate your note, Pop, on negotiating with a firm hand and not letting things “turn into a circus.” I can understand that, from your end, the entire situation looks like a bit of a circus. Believe me, many days I feel I am flying trapeze between the union and Siebert. But if anything goes wrong it is me who falls 200 feet to his death.

When I wrote that some of these people are my friends now I didn’t mean to suggest that I am therefore blinded to the financial realities of the situation. I knew when I got myself into this that Siebert would always be scrambling for financing. But now we are well into it, the men have been working hard, we are filling orders and money is coming in somewhere. There is really no sense comparing what’s going on here to the steel mills in Philadelphia. We are worlds apart.

Mother, I appreciate you reminding me of my commitment to get Edith a fur coat. I should let you know that Father Thorne was over for a game of cribbage last night and you can rest easy after I
consulted him. He assures me that under no circumstances will the world come to an end if Edith doesn’t get a fur coat right now.

I’m so pleased to hear that Urla and Barbara are doing well. As it looks now, she will get back here to join me faster than I will get free to join her. I will know for sure in a few weeks. Please don’t say anything to her until then.

Love to all,
Donald

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

February 14, 1935

Dear Urla,

Happy Valentine’s Day to both my girls. I hope the flowers arrived this morning as requested. Mother’s mood in placing the order would have depended on whether Pop kept up his end of the bargain. I hope he has learned how to buy peace at home!

On this day I am not writing about the mine at all. Instead, I will let you in on the latest goings-on in town. Remember I told you that we have had a lot of cutters coming in and out of the harbor lately, reminding anyone smuggling that they are around. Well, the other day I was coming back to Mrs. G’s for lunch when Cecil Farrell stopped me on the road. He heard that a cutter was on the way from Burin with customs officials ready to give the town a thorough going over. He advised me to put away anything we had smuggled in. When I walked into the house the place was in an uproar. None of the men were home, so Mrs. G had neighbor women helping her hide things in the snow banks!

Out went cigarettes, tobacco, rubber boots, raisins, vanilla, scotch, rum and a lot more. Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later Mr. Cutter came around the Cape. They landed at the dock and hot-footed directly up to Farrell’s store.

I have to admit to being a little shocked at how brutal they were. They arrive with axes and saws and can really pull a place apart and no one can stop them. They can point to anything in your house or shop and charge you with smuggling if you haven’t got the original receipt.

After turning Farrell’s upside down, they headed up to the Becks. Their eyes landed on the kitchen stove, which of course arrived in a full moon one night! Lo and behold they then came here. They didn’t look in our old part of the house but went right through to the kitchen looking at the same stove as the Becks have, which of course arrived in the same manner. Mrs. G remained calm, and I suspect like everyone else in town was just relieved it didn’t start to rain and melt the snow banks!

From there things only became more intriguing. The next day, the Magistrate arrived to try Mr. Beck and Mr. G. Of course, the Magistrate stays at the Giovannini’s every time he comes. That means that for the last two years he has been eating his meals off the very stove he is here to punish them for having. He is also an old hunting buddy of Mr. Beck, so the trial should be interesting.

I will write you later with the conclusion of our little drama. Now there is a story to tell Barbara in the evening. The tide-watcher is here so I’m going to give him this letter quickly.

Love to you both,
Don

P.S. Miss Fewer is surely counting how many letters I am sending you and vice versa. I swear she gets more excited than I do when she recognizes your handwriting on the envelope. She’s been very good to us and I’m hoping you bring her back a little something when you return.

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

February 17, 1935

Dear Urla,

Well you missed a real concert at the Giovannini’s at lunchtime today.

I was at the wharf receiving a shipment of dynamite, so I missed the trial. Just as I arrived home for lunch there was Mr. G arriving with two policemen in crazy fur caps and the Magistrate, who apparently is an Oxford graduate. The upshot of the trial is that Mr. G was issued a $50 fine. The maximum fine is $400 including confiscation and payment of all duty and freight that would otherwise have been charged if the stove had been legally purchased.

The two policemen sat in the front parlor while the Magistrate and I ate our lunch, cooked to perfection on the ill-gotten stove. I was waiting for Mr. G to offer us a little nip of his best French brandy after lunch but that might have been one push too far! Then they all left a little later on their way out the harbor to the next community. I am sure the whole town waved them off.

We are all waiting for you to return so we can complete our bridge foursome. I am checking into vessels this week and will book your ticket as soon as the weather settles.

By the way, don’t send any more gifts without adjusting the invoice. Mr. Louis told me the girls paid a hefty tariff in order to collect the fabric you sent them. They were thrilled to get it, so please don’t mention the money as I’m sure it will embarrass them.

I’m reading the
Anthony Adverse
book you left and finding it a good read.

Love,
Don

245 Hillside Avenue
Nutley, New Jersey

February 27, 1935

Dear Don,

What a treat to get your letter as I was on tenterhooks about the fate of Mr. G and the stove.

I had a get together yesterday with Nancy Dewar and Betsy Simms and we had some good laughs over our time at Uppsala. Nancy is president of the Nutley chapter of the American Association of University Women. Both of them ended up teaching in Nutley, and both left their jobs when they married. They live only a few streets from each other and attend the same clubs and activities. They seem to go into the city a lot and gushed about the latest Rodgers and Hart musical
Jumbo
. For my part, I gushed about the goings-on in the smuggling rings of St. Lawrence and maybe laughed too hard at my own story. I still laugh at the image of everyone storing cigarettes in the snow banks.

Sometimes I feel they all look at me wondering how I could find humor and happiness in such an impoverished environment. I’m not sure I could explain it even if I wanted to.

In the meantime, I tune out a little at all the talk of who wore what to church, whose husband is spending too much time in the city, and who was left off this or that invitation list. Quite honestly, darling, I miss the extravagance and luxury of home but not its complications.

In some ways, I think these women spend too much of their time sifting through the choices around what kind of wife they want to be. I’m so grateful I learned to be a wife in St. Lawrence where I somehow learned without complicating it. Sometimes having too many options can be a burden. I can’t wait to get back where I can learn how to be a mother as effortlessly.

Speaking of extravagance, Daddy has a new line of lollipops at the drugstore, so I will be bringing home lots for Leonas and Blanche. For your birthday present, I will give you a hint: it is jazz and round.

Counting the days.

Love,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

March 5, 1935

Dear Urla,

I realize our letters are crossing in the mail, but I wanted to get a quick note off to you to let you know the coats arrived.

Wow, I didn’t know Methodist women wore coats like this, let alone gave them away. To my untrained eye they look quite fashionable. You must have really appealed to their sense of noblesse oblige. Anyway, I dutifully brought them up to the convent. Sister Bernard answered the door and forgot herself for a moment and was all excited to receive the bundle. I think she will be delighted that the poorest women in town will now be wearing the most fashionable coats. She reminded me that families cannot buy clothes with their dole money. They were very thankful and I assured them you would soon visit with Barbara. I keep trying to get a sneak peek in behind the front door, but their life remains as mysterious as ever.

I’m sending some coins for your father in this package so let me know whether they have been lifted en route. I have some twenty, thirty and fifty centime pieces from Saint Pierre which I thought he would be interested in. They still have Napoléon on one side, which gives you some indication of their age. I am also sending the variety you can get on any day here: yesterday my pocket
had American, Canadian, Newfoundland, and British coins—all in circulation here. I’m sure he would find that of interest.

Before I sign off, I must tell you I’m coming to see the radio as a mixed blessing around here. Father Thorne’s housekeeper asked me the other night if I had ever had gingivitis! Naturally I was a little shocked, but I did tell her no. She then asked if I might ask you to bring some back to St. Lawrence with you. I finally got to the bottom of it when Father Thorne told me about the ad on the radio which says: thirty percent of Americans have gingivitis. This poor woman just wanted to have some too.

Much love to all the folks at Hillside, but especially you.
Don

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

March 10, 1935

Dear Urla,

Miss Fewer tells me I must really be missing you because I am sending so many letters. It’s good to know everything I do is being watched! I had to write today because the most beautiful ships are in the harbor. We missed them last year because of the ice, so I have to describe them for you.

Most large boats leave from Grand Bank, but this year a few put in here. I woke up yesterday morning and there in the harbor was a large, spectacular schooner. The sun was up and bright and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent. In full sail with her blue hull—I wish I could paint.

This banker has a thirty-man crew. She carries about twenty dories, all nestled like saucers on her deck. I was invited to have dinner with the captain. One of the mates kept us entertained with stories, and he swore they were true. He told me about drifting
away from his banker when they were in the Atlantic. When they hit landfall in their open dory, they found themselves in West Africa. The stories continued in this fashion all evening.