Dancing In a Jar

by Poynter Adele

  Our captain has been very friendly and often comes to join mealtimes. Meals are a curious affair. The chief dish for breakfast is stew, usually with a choice of meat or veal (and meat here means beef). Of course fish is on offer three times a day and then a little before you go to bed! And fish here always means cod. Everyone holds their forks upside down. They keep both hands going all the time and it’s hard not to stare as the food gets stuffed in. The coffee tastes like it was brewed for weeks at a time and the tea will pick you up and set you down with a bang. Teatime is called “mug up” and they ask you if you would like to “mug up.” Urla is already filling her notebook with local expressions.

  We were only ten passengers on the way up to Grand Bank, but we picked up a number of people this morning going to St. John’s. We shared a good part of the south coast with a Captain Petit, known as a great “Banker,” a curious term that means he owns a big fleet of fishing vessels that go to the Grand Banks. He is well traveled and is now on his way home from New York, leaving our ship at Harbour Breton. At every stop everyone seemed to know him and admire him. He was full of stories and I enjoyed time in his company, including taking a good game of cribbage from him.

  The people have been welcoming and very accommodating. We have already been invited to the homes of everyone we have met. A large crowd meets every boat and there is laughter and good cheer all around even though it’s clear that every community is suffering. I have never seen so many children and they come wearing clothes that look to be passed down through generations. The men all wear heavy woollen sweaters and rubber boots.

  We are about to leave soon so I will give this to a steward to have mailed in Grand Bank. I hope you don’t receive it before we get to St. Lawrence.

  More anon,

  As ever,

  Donald

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  September 16, 1933

  Dear Mom and Pop,

  It has taken a few days for me to settle in and put pen to paper. Hopefully this will allay any fears you may have had that Urla and I would not make it to Newfoundland. Believe me, we have arrived.

  I am not sure if you have received a letter I left to be mailed from Grand Bank so I won’t repeat myself too much here. The trip up was fairly smooth sailing until the final leg crossing the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the south coast of Newfoundland. It felt like my first crossing of the Atlantic to England. For Urla, it felt like a trip to the belly of the earth, but she was a good sport about it all. I am not certain she will look back on her honeymoon in the same way other gals will. But the beauty of the south coast and the kindness of the people more than made up for the waves and gales.

  St. Lawrence was shrouded in fog when we rounded the cape into the harbor. For now, there is only one wharf used by some fishermen and a few government vessels, so offloading was a bit of an adventure to say the least. It appears that Siebert is behind on paying the men who have been working for him and now they refuse to work until there is some compensation. So I had to reach into my own pocket to get a few locals on the wharf to help offload the mine equipment. An invidious start.

  We were met at the boat by a Mrs. Giovannini, whose boarding house is our new home for the time being. I can tell you that Urla was relieved to get on solid ground, and I was relieved to see some color return to her cheeks. I will send more news when I can. I must hurry to get this on the next boat. I imagine you will see the Crammonds at church on Sunday, so please tell them we have arrived safely and I’m sure Urla will get news to them shortly.

  As ever,

  Donald

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  September 16, 1933

  Dear Ivah!

  I know Miss Tadmore would be upset with me using an exclamation point so carelessly in my salutation, but I am pouring out to you and it seems fitting to exclaim. Firstly, I am so happy to be writing because I never thought I would be putting pen to paper again in my life. I swear to you, dear sister, that wild horses won’t drag me on to another ship. I will travel by hot air balloon or camel if I must, but it will not be again by sea. I was so sickly green when I disembarked that I fear my first impression in this town is of someone from outer space. And I felt every bit as foul as I looked.

  I practically fell into the arms of our boarding house lady and she has been very kind to me. She offered to take me immediately to her house, but I did not want to be parted from Don so soon upon arrival. I have dreamed of this day for so long, and given that nothing else resembled my dream I wanted at least to be at his side. Poor Don! Not only did he have me to worry about, but there was no one to unload the machinery and I could see disappointment and frustration washing over him. I did not have the heart to add mine.

  It will take some doing to square my image of a sweet rustic village with what I am afraid is the reality of St. Lawrence. But I mustn’t bore you with that now and Don tells me if we don’t make this postal boat you will be fretting for news.

  Our boarding house is small but very tidy. We are meant to share the living area with the family, but I am much happier roosting in our own room for now. Don promises we will have our own house very soon. Tell Mother and Daddy I will write them in time for the next boat. I hope you have received my sunnier letter from Nova Scotia already.

  Love from your never-setting-foot-on-a-ship sister,

  U

  Bucknell University

  Lewisburg, Pennsylvania

  September 25, 1933

  Dear Urla,

  Daddy brought me your letter straightaway on Sunday and I could hardly wait for them to leave to tear it open. I have missed you so much already I hardly know if I’ll survive.

  I am so sorry about the seasickness, but you know you hate to be on water. I hope the rest of the voyage was smooth sailing, Sis!

  Bucknell is everything I remember from visiting you and more. I could lie on the rosette at the entrance to the Arts and Letters building and stare at the sky and feel the campus turn around me. I love everything about it.

  My roommate’s name is Vanessa Hodgeson from Gloucester, Massachusetts, and I think I like her. She is very tall and pretty and has the most delicious blonde curls—she’s like someone out of a Fitzgerald novel. See! I’ve already started with literary references and it’s my first week of class! Anyway, Mother says Vanessa is from a very old merchant family in Gloucester and seemed suitably impressed with her. I suspect by next visit Mother will be recommending I strangle my wiry black hair into soft blonde curls.

  One thing for certain is that while I am busy convincing my hair to sit in a neat bob, Vanessa is already busy being “seen” by sororities. Oh Urla, dear, I wish you could be with me. I have such misgivings that Sigma Beta Phi will be interested in me as they were in you. Vanessa seems to have such a thoughtful plan for this and I am simply hoping that being Urla Crammond’s baby sister will save the day and get me pledged. Mother asked me about it at least three times on Sunday. Daddy was his reassuring sweet self, but then he doesn’t understand the importance of hair in a girls’ world, does he?

  I must run, dear U. I have to get to the library and load up on my English novels and dive in.

  Give my new brother-in-law (see I am practising those words too!) a hug from me. I close my eyes and see you both in your little house by the sea with a rocking chair on the veranda and a new puppy by your side. Poor Sturdy is missing us both I’m afraid, but Daddy has promised extra brushings in our absence.

  Sweet kisses coming your way from me,

  Ivah

  P.S. Your secret of the disappearing silk scarf is safe with me.

  P.P.S. Let me know if you do get a puppy.

  P.P.P.S. Your letter only took seven days to get to Nutley. See, you

  are n
ot at the end of the earth as Granny Crammond says!

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  September 26, 1933

  Dear Viv,

  Thanks so much for your letter, which arrived on Friday’s mail boat. You may be impressed by it only taking five days from Halifax, but that is in CANADA, my dear. We are in a separate country altogether and I suspect our mail circumnavigates a pole before it reaches you.

  I couldn’t be happier that you are settling in at Bucknell. I can see the big leafy chestnuts and smell the musty dorm rooms and feel the excitement of approaching the library before anyone else in the morning. You will love it all as I did. As I still do. Don says you are to stay well away from the young engineering students, ESPECIALLY the sophomores. This is rich advice from a once sophomore who pursued a once sweet freshman, but he says this all with genuine concern not recognizing himself in any fashion. And I must second his concern: freshman can be naïve, my darling sister, so please be extra cautious.

  Send me your reading list when you can. I am worried already about running out of books here. I don’t see a single one in Mrs. G’s house although they may be simply tucked away and I have yet to ask. I have also not visited a single other house since we arrived, as Don wants me to be careful about who I befriend until he settles things down with the men.

  It appears that no one has been paid for the last month or more and poor Don has come into this situation totally blindsided. He is having trouble reaching Mr. Siebert to get the situation settled. Apparently he is duck hunting in Ohio. I would like to be hunting Siebert in Ohio! I cannot say anything to Don, but I have always had my quiet dislike of that man. But I must support my husband (see it’s rolling off my tongue now). Say a little prayer that they can get paid soon. Mostly so I can get to another house and find new books.

  Sweet kisses to you right back, dear Ivah,

  U

  TELEGRAPH

  TO WALTER SIEBERT

  SEPTEMBER 26 1933

  C/O FIERCE VALLEY LODGE

  ORVILLE OHIO

  MEN DEMANDING PAY OWED SINCE AUGUST STOP

  CANNOT PROCEED WITH PROJECT STOP PLEASE ADVISE

  FULL STOP DA POYNTER

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  September 27, 1933

  Dear Mr. Siebert,

  I hope your duck hunting was successful. I hear it’s been a good season in the Midwest.

  I had no response from my telegraph so I hope I have better luck reaching you by direct mail.

  We have a dire situation concerning compensating the men. I would like to take a team to continue working our lease on the Black Duck property. I can’t get a soul to agree until they’ve been paid for days worked already. They claim to not have been paid since the middle of July. As you are aware, Mr. Smith is not due back in St. Lawrence for a week or two so I am not fully informed on the situation. I am helpless to arbitrate and, despite my assurances that we will rectify this as soon as possible, to a man they refuse.

  If you could wire the funds to our account in St. John’s, I will take care of it from there.

  In the meantime, I have been attempting to modify the machinery you purchased in Cape Breton. As you know, it was used for coal mining so some adaptation is necessary for this hard rock drilling. It is somewhat rudimentary but I feel confident that it can help us get started.

  Otherwise, Urla and I are settling into our boarding house. Thank you for making those arrangements for us. It is very pleasant.

  Looking forward to hearing from you shortly.

  Best regards,

  Don

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  September 30, 1933

  Dear Mom and Pop,

  Hope this finds you both well. I was looking forward to some news from you when the coastal boat arrived yesterday, but I figure you must be busy shutting down the beach house and getting rid of pesky squirrels on Wayne Place.

  It has been two weeks since our arrival and there’s not much to report work wise. Looks like Siebert has fallen behind in wages and I’m having a devil of a time getting anyone to work. On top of that, he was sold a bill of goods by some fast talker in Nova Scotia and I’m stuck trying to salvage what I can from the rusty mess of machinery he has purchased. Siebert’s man on site, Mr. Smith—a German geologist known here as Doc Smith—is away visiting his family until next week, so I am in the dark. At least the typewriter I bought in Halifax is serving me well.

  Urla and I are settled into the boarding house. It is one of the loveliest houses in town. We couldn’t ask for better people to take care of us, but I will be happy to get in our own place as will Urla. I had better wait until I get the men paid before I remind Siebert about that promise. Pop, if you could, please check my bank account when you’re next in the city. I should have a deposit from Siebert on the middle of each month.

  Your son,

  Donald

  24 Wayne Place

  Nutley, New Jersey

  October 6, 1933

  Dear Donald,

  Your letter arrived yesterday and we are both encouraged to get a quick response back to you. Thank you for the letter and most particularly the beautiful stamps. They make a handsome addition to my collection and the beauty of the Newfoundland designs seems to be well known by some serious collectors I’ve met in the city.

  I hope by now you have heard from Siebert. I realize you have had an inauspicious start but I caution you that times everywhere are tough. The New York Times ran an article on Friday about mines in Mexico and mentioned fluorspar. I would suggest not doing anything to make Siebert move his money south rather than north. Do not forget that in ’29 lots of people worked for nothing and felt blessed to have a job to hold onto. You may want to remind the men of St. Lawrence about American fortitude.

  Yes, we have closed down the house at Oak Beach for another year. I put the old buggy in the garage after a very short season but as I say, times are tough and I limited my gasoline use in line with your mother’s horsewhip on our household accounts.

  Speaking of accounts, I will check on yours when next in NYC. Nevertheless, I think your worry is misplaced as I feel confident that Siebert is a man of his word.

  I am enclosing an article from The Times, Saturday past edition. They ran a two-page spread on collectible art and craft in the city. Hopefully you can see from the piece that our ARHEPO Gifts earned fourth place in their competition. We were all thrilled. I submitted one of my recent designs with a wrought-iron base carved to look like a sextant, and the lampshade fashioned as a sail heading downwind. I have received three commissions already based on that article. However, that will not keep my eighteen people fully employed and the market really is tightening up. The biggest challenge is getting credit from the banks. I feel people want to spend but the banks are tight as a clam. Mother thinks I should let go the sales people and go on the road myself as an artist selling his own product. I am not sure of this but I will keep you posted. For now, we have enough work on the books to get the whole company through February.

  I notice you are boarding with Italians. Do you remember the DeNilos (you kids used to call them “de tomatoes”) who lived on the corner of Wayne Place and Passaic Avenue? They moved to the city about six years ago and it might not have been a good idea. We just heard that Paul DeNilo, the father, was killed in a mob style shooting in Queens. So watch your back!

  Love,

  Pop

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  Donald Dear,

  I’ll include a quick hello with Pop’s. So happy you and Urla are settled in. I did see the Crammonds. I wish Mrs. C would stop looking as though you have taken her precious child to Outer Mongolia. But for your sake I am
on my best behavior.

  I know you mentioned to Pop about your bank account. I’m hoping you remember your promise to pay for Edith’s singing lessons. The City Opera is showing such interest in her and I would hate to cut short her progress. Pop would never agree to such frivolous spending unless it’s on himself of course. Thank you darling for your generous offer.

  I see the name of your landlady is Giovannini. Is there nowhere those Catholic Italians haven’t gone?

  Love to you and your bride,

  Mother

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  October 6, 1933

  Dear Ivah,

  Don was home for lunch today and told me the mail boat will be leaving in a couple of hours because of some looming bad weather, so I am sending you a quick note for fear that you will think I’ve dropped off the earth.

  Remember I told you that I hadn’t gone into another house except Mrs. Giovannini’s? Well this week I had such extreme cabin fever I just had to get outside for a long walk. I miscalculated on the weather—easy to do here as it changes every five minutes. Just as it was starting to rain, I bumped into Mrs. Giovannini going to her neighbor’s house and she encouraged me along for a visit.

  Oh dear Viv, it is slowly dawning on me that we are staying in one of the nicest houses in the town. I feel so totally silly for not having taken in my surroundings a little more fully before this. Now I see how many houses are badly in need of a coat of paint. And even when that is not the case, the outside still belies the struggles within.

  Mrs. G’s neighbor’s name is Mrs. Edwards, and her house is really just two big rooms and what looks like a rabbit warren of bedrooms in behind. We sat in the kitchen which contained a big stove, a bigger table and BIG group of children. There was only one cupboard and when Mrs. Edwards opened it to get molasses for our tea it reminded me of looking at dollhouse groceries. There was one bag of sugar, one bottle of molasses, one box of tea, and the like. The kitchen table was buried under a dozen loaves of bread, still in their baking tins, and around it a number of birdlike beaks waiting to be fed. I have never seen so much bread anywhere except in Finister’s bakery at home. I can also guarantee that all that bread would never have a chance to go dry because I watched it being devoured right in front of me as a mess of little hands and those bird beaks finished off the works. It was straight out of a Dickens novel.