Dancing In a Jar (4 page)

Just as I was recovering from that, I saw a movement in the corner and nearly dropped my teacup from fright. There on a long wooden couch was her husband, asleep amidst all the slurping and eating and conversation. But all I could see was scraps of hair here and there and elfin ears and a furry mouth emitting a low growl. Of course the two women doubled over in laughter at my fright and I’m sure I’ll be the talk of the town in a matter of hours. Mrs. G said, “Sure, my honey, it’s just Joe having a kip before tea.” That roughly translates as “It’s Mr. Edwards having a small nap before dinner.” Apparently, sleeping in your kitchen on a “daybed” is all the rage in St. Lawrence!

I realize I have to get out more and visit if I’m going to adapt at all. I’m equal parts nervous and worried about the gap between my expectations and reality. I really have no experience to help me set my sails for this place.

I’d be much happier sitting next to you in class. Oh well, I have a few
good books to bury myself in and our boarding house is warm and cozy, so I have no complaints. Poor Don is still trying to get some resolution with the men so work can continue. I think he is slowly seeing he has been blindsided by Siebert, but he doesn’t acknowledge it and I don’t either. Best to carry on so everything is according to plan. Maybe this is what marriage is meant to be. I sure hope not.

Love,
Urla

St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
Room 1116, 120 Broadway
New York 5, NY

October 6, 1933

Dear Don,

I received your telegraph followed by your letter in due course. I did not respond immediately as frankly there is no immediate response. I am admittedly behind in my payments to the men and I don’t see this situation improving until we raise some more capital at this end, which I am intent on doing.

I am working with John Whitman who is helping open doors for me here in the city. As you can imagine, this is a tough sell, but I am confident we can bankroll next year’s work with some luck on our side.

In the interim, I would ask you to approach some of the shopkeepers in town to see if they would extend credit to our men until I can settle up when this next round of funding is secured. This is common practice in that neck of the woods as the fish merchants have done it for years. You should have no problem in arranging this.

We need to keep the focus on getting 2,000 tons of spar on the wharf by spring. If it suits DOSCO’s needs then we are in business.
Good to hear that the Nova Scotia machinery will work out for us. Some positive results from Black Duck will help me close the deal at this end. So let’s encourage everyone to pitch in at your end.

The hunting season was very satisfying. We bagged forty-four snow geese in two days, which isn’t bad for this city boy. I also visited some processing plants in Cleveland situated right on Lake Erie, which may be of interest to us down the road.

Good luck with Black Duck. I am anxious for some dimensions on those promising veins. Please give my best to your lovely wife.

Best regards,
Walter

St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

October 22, 1933

Dear Mr. Siebert:

I hope this letter finds you and Mrs. Siebert well.

I have made arrangements with Mr. Aubrey Farrell and Mr. Gregory Giovannini to advance credit to the men so we can start work on the property. These gentlemen run the two general stores in town and I have had to promise payment from us by Christmas in order to shore up the agreement.

I am not sure any of us can appreciate the hardships in this neck of the woods, so it is a good sign of cooperation that Mr. Farrell and Mr. Giovannini would agree to advance us the funds. I hope you agree.

Timing is also critical at the moment as we have a small window between the Newfoundland inshore fishery and the winter Grand Bank fishery. Men will soon commit themselves to a bank schooner and will be gone from the community for up to four months in
the early winter. We have to pay the men now if we have any chance to get some strong backs on our side. This part of the coast doesn’t usually see snow until December, so this next month of work will be critical for us.

Unless I hear otherwise, then, I will hire fifteen men, pay their back wages, and proceed to do reconnaissance work on the Black Duck vein.

As you can see, I’m using the first sheet of letterhead you sent up. I’m glad the incorporation is finally in place. I realize we have a lot going on right now, but I don’t want us to lose track of our shareholding agreement. It was a major decision for me to accept a lower salary now in exchange for equity in the corporation, but I feel I should be invested in this future as I help build it.

Best regards,
Donald

St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
Room 1116, 120 Broadway
New York 5, NY

October 29, 1933

Dear Don,

I note with some irony the date as I write you. How anyone could think they have suffered more than those of us clustered around the New York Stock Exchange on this date four years ago is frankly testimony to how well we Americans have weathered this depression with our usual fortitude. No wallowing in it, I say, and we all make our own futures.

So I was somewhat dismayed to read the terms you have agreed to with Mr. Farrell. These men should be thankful for any work in that desolate corner of the world. However, I appreciate your local knowledge, so quickly absorbed. Let’s hope I can raise the capital in
the short time you have given me. Please keep me apprised of the work so I can throw around some dimensions when I do the tour in the city.

I will caution you, Don, to be aware that those charming Irish people are very good at putting one over on us straight shooting American types. Be careful about stories of starving and barefoot children. I could tell you some stories from Mexico where your esteemed boss was taken for a naïve fool, so I have learned a thing or two.

Best regards to your lovely wife,
Walter

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 1, 1933

Dear Dorothy,

How are you my darling sister? I am hoping that Ivah and Mother and Daddy have been keeping you up-to-date on our little adventure. We are settling into our boarding house where I sometimes feel we are too well looked after since I had imagined my married life would begin with slaving over a hot stove and tending to my beloved, much like you and Bill. I hope you know I am teasing, dear one, and it is closer to the truth that I admire you and Bill more and more as I begin my married life.

I knew things would be different for Don and me given the adventure we were undertaking. But the truth is I am not seeing much that resembles the picture I had in my head. Of course that picture was probably at odds with living in a small room in a small house in a small town in a small country. To be honest, that part isn’t as hard as I might have imagined. The hard part is watching Don start a mine from a small room in a small house in a small town in a small country. And with what seems to be a small amount of money.

Don’t tell anyone at home, but I don’t think anything at the mine site is as Don was expecting. He doesn’t say much about it, but his sleep is always troubled. He is consumed with getting this right and I can see he steps very carefully as his every move is watched and interpreted. I encourage him to talk to me about it when we are alone, much as I saw you and Bill in your early days. But my heart could burst when I look at him and I see so many ways to bring happiness into our married life. I cannot imagine a day without him.

Please find time to send some news and give Bill a big hug from his favorite Crammond. The post here works much better than I had anticipated. At least something is not as I pictured.

Big hugs to you both,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 5, 1933

Dear Pop,

I have just an hour to get this letter off to you before the mail comes or else it would have to wait a week or two. The weather is closing in and it’s occasionally too stormy or foggy for the mail boat to make it into the harbor.

Your last letter made good time and it’s always great to hear the news from home. I’m not sure anyone would be surprised to learn that Paul DeNilo went down in a mob shooting. Even as kids we knew something wasn’t right in that house. But you needn’t worry about the Italian mafia here. There is only one family group, all descended from a few brothers who came to Newfoundland from Italy in the 1860s. They left war behind in Europe and came here to engage in the salt fish trade. They send salt fish to New England and bring back goods for their general store. The family is from the north, and have pale skin and blue eyes, bearing no resemblance to
the more suspicious crowd from the south of Italy. So I don’t have to watch my back here.

In fact, on several evenings now I have visited Mr. Gregory Giovannini, cousin to our landlord of the same name. By the way, that happens a lot here, so it is a town of nicknames. Our landlord goes by Dudler, not Gregory because there are too many of them. There is a Rubber Jack Fitzpatrick to distinguish him from the other Jack Fitzpatricks and on it goes. Urla wonders why in a town of 900 people there couldn’t be more variety in their names!

I enjoy Mr. Giovannini’s company very much and he is full of stories of the early days of the salt fish trade. He is a darn fine gin rummy player too. Like so many around here, Mr. Giovannini almost lost his business when world trade collapsed in 1929. There is a general store left but the business is only a shell of its earlier glory days. It still amazes me to see how far-reaching are the effects of the ’29 crash.

The government here has yet to recover. It is faced with empty coffers, high unemployment, and desperate people in every outport and town. I don’t tell Urla this, but it is far more impoverished than I was expecting. Of course the government now does everything it can to raise money even if it’s self-defeating. You cannot imagine the tariff situation in this little country. Everything you hate about government is on display in spades. All goods that come through Newfoundland customs have a flat 65% tacked on before they add the duty so you can imagine how expensive things are. As a result, many people living in this part of the country smuggle from the French islands of Saint Pierre and Miquelon. It took this Methodist boy a while to get used to it but things are so much cheaper there, even compared to the U.S., that I now accept it as the only way to do business around here. Sugar, for example, is ten cents a pound here, but two and a half cents a pound if you bring it in from Saint Pierre.

Of course “bringing it in” can get a little hair raising! The vast majority of people get things through unnoticed, but there have
been some dramatic confrontations at sea with the Coast Guard, and the stories get more embellished as they pass from house to house—and funnier! Last week they caught a fellow trying to smuggle in a piano.

For now, I am happy to get American cigarettes through a neighbor for $3.50 a thousand. I hope to go to Saint Pierre before Christmas to pick up the machinery that Siebert is shipping and hopefully a bottle or two of cheer.

You’d be happy to know I managed to get a couple of hours of hunting last week. It was quite an affair as everyone here loads their own shells, so I will have to learn how. They are using old muzzle loaders traded here for furs by the Hudson Bay Trading Company. You have probably never seen this many ptarmigan, or what the locals call partridge, in your life. The hills here are full of them. I was after ducks though and shot four nice ones. It was a terrible day of weather and if it had been the least bit calm I would’ve had enough to last all winter.

I’m not sure what we can do about Christmas presents. The only way to avoid duty is to send items that are over a year old and critical to the household. All the bathroom fittings we brought with us are useless to us here as there is no pipe. I’ve asked Siebert to send that in, so I’ll test the tariff rule on that shipment. Otherwise I may arrange an address in Saint Pierre so you can send things.

I would very much like you to include in the package from Siebert my old sewing machine motor, complete with wiring and the pulley that fits against the wheel. The machines here have no foot action and have to be cranked by hand. I have never seen such poorly made clothes and the men all need better waders and coats for the mine. Urla is anxious to make some clothes too.

This week “Doc” Smith arrived back in St. Lawrence. He is a geologist and has been here since Siebert started working the lease last year. When we arrived in St. Lawrence, he was in Germany visiting his wife and eight children. I guess he is the de facto
manager of the operation although this has never been made clear by Siebert. Thankfully, he and I get along quite well and he is leaving the engineering and surveying sides clearly to me. At any rate, it will take two of us to make things work, so I’m happy for his company. He is staying at the same boarding house, and both Urla and I enjoy stories of his experiences from Russia to South America.

Best regards to all and I will write again when the next boat comes in.

As ever,
Donald

Water Street
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 15, 1933

Dear Mother and Dad,

I must laugh as I write the address at the top of the page. I felt it was time to have proper stationary and proper salutations. Everyone in the house looked at me strangely when I asked what street we are on. First of all, the streets are barely roads, and secondly, everybody is so well known how could the mail go astray! So I felt like a silly city girl, and not for the first time.

Yesterday I had a caller to see me at the boarding house. Mrs. G says there are always a few nosy ones who have to meet the new people in town! So I sat politely and had tea with a Mrs. Annie Pike. She is my age, but looks fifty and has never been outside the town of St. Lawrence in her life. The big thing she wanted me to know about her is the fact that when her sister died they sent her to Halifax to be embalmed. I nearly gagged on my tea but acted suitably impressed at this fact. I never know what the afternoon will bring.