Dancing In a Jar

by Poynter Adele

  Thanks for your poem and you’re right—there’s a lot of sharp edges but your Mr. Pratt softens them beautifully.

  At my end, we just finished an entire semester of Carl Sandburg. I’m sure you’ll remember how he describes the fog arriving “on little cat feet” and how it looks over the harbor “on silent haunches /and then moves on.”

  So try giving that fog of yours some feline features and that might help you get through the bad days. Speaking of which, our exams go very late this year, so I won’t be heading home until the 23rd of December. By then I suspect I will be blue and moody having to have Christmas without you.

  Lots of love,

  Ivah

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  December 17, 1933

  Dear Mom and Pop,

  I’m not sure how many more letters will get to you before Christmas. I imagine you are all getting ready for the season while here they have yet to have a snowfall and most days are gray and rainy. Not a hint of Christmas in sight.

  We really have no idea how it will be celebrated here, but I don’t imagine it will be a lavish affair. Just a couple of weeks ago, Urla and I attended the mass to pray for those who died in the earthquake here several years ago. We normally don’t go to these things, but we were so shocked to find out there had been an earthquake in this part of the world and to imagine people had suffered from that as well as everything else that has occurred in the last couple of years.

  On November 18th, 1929, there was a massive earthquake off the Grand Bank of Newfoundland, resulting in a tidal wave that struck this peninsula. Twenty-seven people died and the whole peninsula was devastated. The earthquake and tidal wave struck without warning, affecting over forty towns and villages and about 10,000 people. St. Lawrence was hardest hit in terms of loss of property but no one died. A committee addressed all the claims, and people were compensated to some degree but, coupled with the world recession, this has left the area more fragile than most.

  Compounding the loss, many around here say that the fishery has not been the same since the waves hit this coast and its fish banks. As a result, the men lost much of the one method of making a living that was left to them, inshore fishing. Add to that the desperate financial shape of the Government of Newfoundland, and you have a population very dependent on the dole and scraps of work here and there. It’s been a help to me of course in looking for men to work, although the need to be paid by Siebert is that much more critical. I would say a third of the families in St. Lawrence receive government assistance.

  I’m heading over this week to the French islands of Saint Pierre and Miquelon. They are only sixteen miles away by boat and I’m hoping Siebert sent some of the piping I need. I hope you managed to get the sewing machine included in the shipment. It still seems strange to me to have to go to another country to get the equipment and materials we need for this mining venture but the tariff here is one heck of a pill to swallow. I know the government is desperate but talk about cutting off your nose.

  I’m hoping to get some perfume and cigars to send your way for Christmas, so keep your eyes on the mailbox.

  Lots of love,

  Donald

  Bucknell University

  Lewisburg, Pennsylvania

  December 19, 1933

  Dear Urla,

  We have had our first light snowfall, so I’m getting excited about the end of term and getting home for Christmas. Only one more paper due and home I go.

  I am bursting with news on the romantic front. On Saturday past, the Phi Psis invited three sororities for their Christmas dance. I had four dances with William Gibson, which left me light headed and giddy like a schoolgirl. William is an old friend of Vanessa’s and I knew he was interested a few times when he came round to collect her for class. I’m going to enlist her help before we break for Christmas and see if we can’t make something happen. I would love to invite them both to the city to see the new Broadway musical As Thousands Cheer. Apparently Irving Berlin works his magic and you know I love Leslie Adams so I’m dying to go. I will keep you posted, dear Sis.

  We will miss you so much around the house and I don’t really want to speak of it so I shall not. Just know that we will be thinking of you and missing you very much.

  Lots of love,

  Ivah

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  December 23, 1933

  Dear Mother and Dad, Ivah and Sturdy,

  I can hardly believe the date as I write it. I thought I would have lots of time to write given that very little was happening in the lead up to Christmas. Then one morning, the whole town sprang into action and we haven’t stopped since. It must be common practice to paint at least your kitchen for Christmas, so everything is taken out like we would for spring cleaning, the room painted and reassembled. Then we started in on some serious gift preparation. Every evening, Mrs. G’s friends would come by with the sleeve of a sweater or one sock left to go and knit furiously trying to keep their craft secret from the children. I hesitate to bring out my petit point, which looks so tiny and silly among their practical work. I may just attempt knitting to get me through the winter although I dare not trouble anyone to teach me now.

  The Christmas baking has been a lesson in fortitude and flexibility. The basic flour here is what they call brown flour and is all you can get during the depression. Trouble is it tends to go rancid and it’s not unusual to find weevils in it. One solution is to add copious amounts of molasses and a handful of raisins to make the most delicious cookies. But the resourceful women of this town have also been putting aside treasured amounts of white flour, so yesterday we made all kinds of treats, including shortbreads, pinwheels, and cinnamon buns for Christmas morning.

  Don made the cinnamon buns possible by bringing back cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger from Saint Pierre. He was brimming with excitement over all the fine things that can be bought there and how welcoming the French people were. He also brought home a hangover that looked to be about the size of a bottle of rum! He promises there will be more treats on Christmas morning.

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  Don and I just came back from an evening walk. There is still no snow to brighten the darkness. Part of me is really starting to like this little town. But everything takes on a new malevolence in the dark. Walking home with no lights anywhere I wonder where in God’s name have we found ourselves?

  Of course you can’t stay introspective for long in this little town. Just as your mind wanders and you are miles away, it’s quite possible to run into a cow or a chicken, which brings you back to reality quickly. I think I told you there are no real roads in town, just paths that wind from house to house. They’re always filled with animals, and the cows in particular will accompany you right into your house unless you chase them. The animals here run wild all year and sometimes wander miles away. You don’t see them until the cold weather sets in and they return home to the right places. The oxen then get hitched up to homemade sleds to haul in the wood when the snow gets deep. Everything here feels part of a big story to me.

  We will miss you this Christmas but I am working hard not to let that ruin my first Christmas with Don. We will find all the happiness we can and hope we don’t get beach rocks in our stockings.

  Love,

  Urla

  P.S. Give big hugs to Sturdy for me.

  P.P.S. I forgot to tell you how the whole town’s prayers came true. Remember I told you about the men put in jail for smuggling during the Prohibition? Well, the Which One arrived in the harbor a couple of days ago to great fanfare! The men had spent twelve days in jail before a well-known mobster named Vannie Higgins managed to get them free. That will tell you who is benefiting from the Prohibition!! Probably just as well t
hat is now over. Mr. Louis had a joyful reunion with his children and brought back with him a barrel of apples and a radio, the second one in town. The first one belongs to the Catholic priest!

  24 Wayne Pl.

  Nutley, New Jersey

  December 23, 1933

  Dear Donald and Urla,

  We received your Christmas letter yesterday although there was no card attached, so I don’t know if that will come later or got lost in your local post office. I hope you two can get through Christmas without too many lonely moments.

  We have our turkey and all the trimmings set for dinner here with Howard and Edith, Aunt Meta, Uncle George, and Kenneth. I am sure we will see the Crammonds at church on Christmas morning. Then, on the 27th, we will all head into Radio City for the Rockette show.

  I hope your trip to the French islands was successful and we look forward to the perfume and cigars. That may be a perfect way to send the furs you promised when you left. I hear there are plenty of beaver and mink pelts about the place. Don’t trouble yourself though, my darling.

  We sent your card early and took your advice on not sending presents. We don’t want the government to take any more of our money with those crazy tariff charges.

  Love to you both,

  Mom

  1934

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  January 7, 1934

  Happy New Year, Mother and Dad,

  I can hardly believe we are into 1934 as we finish up the twelve days of Christmas in our little town. We were hardly expecting this kind of celebration in a place that is struggling so much. But a celebration it has been.

  On Christmas Eve, we joined Mr. and Mrs. Giovannini and the children at mass at the Catholic Church. Everyone walked, greeting others as we went around the harbor. Drawn by the lights of the church, eventually we could hear vespers being sung. The entire town attended this service as the priest went by boat the next morning to tend to other communities. The mass was sung in Latin (Don said it was all Greek to him) and the whole experience was highly ceremonial.

  At home that night we put up the tree after the children went to bed and woke in the morning to their squeals and the beautiful smell of balsam fir. Don surprised me with a box of French candy and produced a bottle of champagne just before dinner. I have no idea how Mrs. G managed such a grand dinner for all of us, but we ate like kings with two large chickens, salty navel beef, roast potatoes, pickled beets and cabbage. It was all topped off with a sherry trifle. How wonderful to share that day with this special family. I gave Don one sock that I had managed to knit surreptitiously, and he laughed sweetly but reminded me he is a biped!

  Starting that evening, there was something on every night up until January 6, the feast of the Epiphany. Christmas here is a twelve day affair with every day offering another round of music, story telling, singing, dancing and going from house to house where every night the food and drink seem to multiply.

  Don had been very excited to get the new pumps installed at the mine just before Christmas and soon realized that would be the extent of the work from the men until today. It was wonderful to watch him have a break too and he became a very popular dance partner in the evenings!

  The story telling left me fully enraptured. At times I would just stand and stare while this inexhaustible flow of words came pouring out from someone’s mouth, regaling the room with some incident from the other side of the harbor or down the road or anywhere that really isn’t very far at all but gets the attention of some global event. The audience gives back to the storyteller everything he needs to be encouraged.

  It’s like there is no other way or no other means for keeping everybody together in that room at that time so the flow of words continues and no one wants to miss out or make a sign of leaving.

  There’s much more to tell of course but I will get this on the next boat. I’m looking forward to hearing the news from home so hopefully our letters will cross over the Atlantic.

  Lots of love,

  Urla

  Bucknell University

  Lewisburg, Pennsylvania

  January 8, 1934

  Dear Urla,

  I can hardly believe I am back at school already. Christmas went by so quickly and of course it wasn’t the same without you at home. Granny Crammond and Dot and Bill came for Christmas dinner, which was uneventful as always. We saw the Poynters at church but Mrs. Poynter never makes an effort to look our way. Maybe our Scottish heritage really seems to bother her. Mother is not amused!

  My excitement was going to Broadway with Vanessa and William. Moss Hart and Irving Berlin have a masterpiece on their hands! The theater was full to capacity and it’s a great sign that the Depression is finally behind us. Ethel Waters and Marilyn Miller were terrific, but to be honest, I was so excited sitting next to William that it could have been a high-school band on stage. I am crazy about him, Sis, and I just hope he feels the same. I told Vanessa and I’m hoping she will grease the wheels of our romance.

  Classes are back with a thud and we are now taking Arts Appreciation, hardly my forte.

  Lots of love to you and my favorite brother-in-law,

  Ivah

  St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.

  Room 1116, 120 Broadway

  New York 5, NY

  January 6, 1934

  Dear Donald,

  I hope this finds you well. I had hoped to have better news on the financing front although I have yet to give up hope. I’m making progress with the Wayne Bank, otherwise there are very few interested in supporting an independent mine. Almost to a man, they advise me to sell the licenses to a large mining venture and secure financing that way.

  As a result, you will have to approach your merchant fellows and ask for an extension with the wages until I have better news. I will leave it up to you what you tell them exactly, but my guess is we will have to encourage them to advance credit to the men until we can sell the fluorspar in the spring. This is not ideal, but I know you are the man to keep everyone moving in this direction.

  I think you will also agree it would be wise to delay building you a new house until we get some of our ducks in a row.

  I want you to know I haven’t forgotten our agreement on your shares in St. Lawrence Corporation. My suggestion would be to formalize things when I’m ready to declare dividends.

  Otherwise, I hope you and your beautiful wife are coping well. Mrs. Siebert and I enjoyed a wonderful Christmas season and spent a few days with friends on their estate in the Hudson Valley. The weather was mild, but I hear now some snow has accumulated.

  Best,

  Walter

  St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

  January 7, 1934

  Dear Mom and Pop,

  Happy New Year to you all. We received your Christmas card just as we were recovering from our own twelve day celebration. We both loved the Courier and Ives painting on the cover, which made us both nostalgic.

  I surprised Urla with some fancy French food that I picked up in Saint Pierre. It was the perfect addition to our Christmas day dinner. Mrs. G produced her own loaves and fishes story with a table worthy of a king. Urla surprised me with a sock knitted by her own hand—a new skill courtesy of our next-door neighbor. I’m hoping the second one comes before the winter is over.

  You would be very proud of your son’s popularity during the dances. I have never danced so many squares, and these people can go as long into the night as the rum lasts. But the most entertaining for both of us is what they call mummering. Without warning, there is a knock on the back door and in they come, a group of five or eight, dressed in all kinds of regalia, faces blackened or shielded from the host. They sing, dance, and play music all the while we have to guess who they are. This went on every night of Christmas, and you could hardly believe there are enough people in this town to fool you but fooled we were. Then all hands have a drink and something to eat and off they go to another house to try their
luck. Apparently, it’s an old English custom started on Boxing Day, which is known as St. Stephen’s day here.

  Still waiting on word of financing from Siebert. We are so close now to getting ore on the wharf that I don’t want to lose momentum.

  We are going through what everyone here says is the worst winter in years. We already have about three feet of snow on the level and up to ten feet in the drifts. Snow doesn’t fall here but comes in absolutely horizontal on the high winds. The sun is very low in the sky. Every morning someone will announce if we have had “frost,” which is another way of saying freezing weather. Ten degrees of frost is ten below zero.

  Dorothy and Bill sent us a subscription to Colliers as a Christmas present and three of them arrived in yesterday’s post. They have finally directed my Popular Science magazines to this address so we have plenty to read at the moment. I suppose by now you have had notice about the Saturday Evening Post. I hope you folks like them and can share them with Howard and Edith.

  I joined Father Thorne last evening for a good chat and his favorite evening beverage, which happily also happens to be mine. Radio reception was excellent and we enjoyed Amos and Andy holding forth on the qualities of Madame Butterfly.

  Speaking of radio: Mother, I must ask you to be careful about what you say in interviews. I know you were thinking only the people around you were listening but you must remember that almost 50,000 native Newfoundlanders live in Brooklyn today. So your comments about us being in a very primitive place are now circulating in St. Lawrence. Josephine, the daughter of Mr. Turpin, our local customs officer, has just returned from living there (on Fourth Avenue near Greenwood Cemetery). So it didn’t help our cause to have your views making their way from house to house. Plus, I can’t afford to be on the bad side of the customs officer.

  Hope gifts arrived from Saint Pierre and the New Year is treating you all well.