There will be a dance at the church hall this Saturday night and Don and I are going. Gertie Farrell will look after Barbara. She is marrying Theo Etchegary soon and says she wants some practice.
I better wrap this up before bedtime.
Love from your hard-to-understand sister,
Urla
St. Lawrence Corporation of Newfoundland Ltd.
Room 1116, 120 Broadway
New York 5, New York
May 4, 1935
Dear Donald,
I received your telegraph this morning about the accident. A shame indeed. Please extend my sympathies to the man’s widow.
I trust by the time you receive this letter you will have filled out an accident report for government with a copy sent to me. Please have the shaft repaired as soon as possible so we don’t lose too much time coming into our busy season. I have already contacted the Dawe lumber company in St. John’s, so you should have heard from them by now.
Your question on compensation is a good one. I must admit I never really thought this through, and I’m surprised it was never a union issue. Regardless, it behoves us to do what’s right for the poor man’s family even though we don’t have a formal obligation. I would offer his widow half a year’s salary. That should help keep everyone fed until she can make other arrangements.
Best regards,
Walter
St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
May 15, 1935
Dear Mom and Pop,
I know the mail has been slow from this end, but we’ve been through one hell of a time at the mine.
We have had mixed snow and rain for the past four weeks, so the mine has been like the trenches of France. We installed two new pumps, but it’s coming in faster than we can pump it out. It looks like all that water rotted out the base of our first shaft. Two weeks ago, just at the end of the evening shift, the support beam snapped and fell on Bobby Clarke, one of the men I hired when I first arrived. I was on site that evening and glad of it, but the poor fellow was already dead when they brought him to the surface. I was quite staggered by it all, but of course had to keep my head. He worked alongside his brother and cousins and friends, so you can imagine everyone was shook up. I realize now that I had never seen a dead person before, let alone literally on my watch.
Someone ran for the priest who arrived in the town’s only truck and gave the poor fellow his final rites there and then. Then we placed the body in the truck and drove to the Clarke house. By the time we got there, news of the accident had been well ahead of us. I was almost glad of the crowd that had gathered out front because I would not have enjoyed the pain of facing that poor woman alone. As it was, Father Thorne accompanied me, which helped the situation enormously.
I guess I always knew of the danger involved in this operation. But now that danger has the face of someone I knew and liked, and that changes everything.
Poor Urla. It sure hasn’t been a bed of roses since she returned. We were just recovering from the ugliness of the strike, and now this. I’m afraid I haven’t been great company. She is a real champ though and now with Barbara as her sidekick she is busy calling in on friends and still has her reading circle and sewing group.
Barbara is six months now and occasionally tells me she misses her Grammy and Grandpa. I tell her that maybe someday they will jump on a big ship and come to visit.
Until then, love from us all here,
Donald
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
May 20, 1935
Dear Ivah,
Thinking about you this morning, my dear sister. I’m trying to convince Don that Barbara’s first word was ‘sis’ but he is not buying it! As I write, she’s outside the door in her pram in the sunshine, the first real warmth we’ve had since I arrived. I’m so excited today that I dug out the seeds I brought back with me, determined to get better results than last year.
Last week we even had snow flurries. This didn’t bother anyone here and as they all say “May snow is good for sore eyes.” Talk about finding the silver lining!
I took Barbara yesterday to visit her Newfoundland “aunt” and “uncle,” and she’s starting to get quite a few. There was a big discussion, well more of a friendly fight, over who has the best garden in town. I bet you didn’t know gardening was a competitive sport! Uncle Rennie Slaney has appointed himself my new gardening adviser, so I will report soon on his magic. Now ifI can just get the last snow out of the garden!
Just as Don was recovering from the mine strike and then the awful accident, now he’s got himself up against the Catholic Church. It turns out that Mrs. Clarke, the widow of the man killed, took half the compensation given to her just last week by the company, and turned it over to Father Thorne so that mass can be said in her husband’s name for eternity or some such thing.
Don was furious and flew across the harbor to see the priest. Father Thorne was steadfast that the money given is a sign of the woman’s faith and would provide her with as much or more comfort than the money itself. They had a major blow up over this (or so the priest’s house keeper has told half the town). Don came home shaking his head and mumbling about whether the church will be feeding Mrs. Clarke’s seven children.
For Don this is hard to square with his view of Father Thorne as a reasonable and intelligent friend. But the pull of the church in this community would be difficult to comprehend unless you witnessed it firsthand. The church is the center of the community and involved in education, music, entertainment, commerce (they own the cod liver oil factory), and of course, soccer. The first priest came to St. Lawrence around 1850. Faith runs really deep here and I almost envy them for it. Going to church and praying at home trumps everything, except soccer, but only because that is also held sacred by the church.
On the other hand, you have never heard people take the Lord’s name like they do here. When we first arrived, Don would have to whisper to me that my mouth was agape. The room would be blue with oaths, especially if someone was telling a story. Mrs. G says, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph” fifty times a day. Sometimes it is, “Good St. Joseph,” and sometimes he’s, “Sweet St. Joseph.” Other times, “Jesus is in the garden.” My personal favorite is “Lord lifting Jesus”—which usually sounds like “Lard liftin Jaysus.” Sometimes he is lifting and dying! And occasionally he is “Jumping Jesus.” Poor Mother would have a heart attack on her first day here.
So, dear Sis, that’s the news from here. It’s so wonderful to have you to talk to. Mother tells me you are doing some student teaching this month. I can’t wait to hear about it. And what about the new young man I met? Has he made any moves I should know about?
Barbara sends big bubbly kisses to her Aunt Ivah. Don and I send small uninteresting ones!
Love,
Urla
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
May 24, 1935
Dear Mom and Pop,
“It’s the twenty-fourth of May, the Queen’s birthday, and if we don’t get a holiday we will all run away.”
That’s sung by the youngsters here and everywhere in the Dominion. It is easy to forget when you are in these small towns that this is Britain’s oldest colony. Of course we have King George V, not a queen at all, but apparently, the holiday still stands as a leftover from Queen Victoria. Many people in town call it Empire day.
Everyone goes trout fishing on this day with everything and anything doubling as a rod. Off they go, walking to one of a thousand ponds with their sandwiches of bread, butter, and molasses, and a glass jar full of worms. I shut the mine for the day (Siebert certainly doesn’t know) since I figure no one would show up at work anyway.
Urla and I are giving a party: fresh lobsters and potato salad. Lobsters here are the sweetest I’ve ever tasted and they are bigger creatures than we have ever seen from Maine. They are asking ten cents each for them, so I’m not sure how many we can afford.
I know there is at least a violin and accordio
n coming, so it may be a long night. Urla tires quickly in the evening, but she is working hard at the garden and is busy with Barbara. Forward thinking as ever, Urla brought back several old clothes to give to the convent so they could distribute them. The word must have gone around because we had a woman knock on our door this week to say she would help Urla around the house in exchange for a coat.
I’m glad Howard and Edith are helping you open up Oak Beach for the season. I imagine everyone will take the opportunity on Memorial Day to do the same. We will be thinking of you raising the flag and eating outside. We will be doing neither, but then again you won’t be having fresh lobster.
Love to all and happy Memorial Day,
Donald
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
May 28, 1935
Dear Mother and Dad,
My garden is planted! Already I can see green shoots desperate for some warmth. Little do they know they will soon be covered in small fish and seaweed—a curious habit, but I am impressed by what people can grow here, so I’m following all their tricks. Very soon we will have rhubarb, the first fresh green that Don has seen since the last year. I imagine by now your garden is galloping, so try not to make me too jealous when you write.
We had a wonderful party in our own house the other night. It was our first one since arriving almost two years ago and we felt it was time we hosted some of the people who have been so good to us. My friends, Gertie and Ena Farrell, helped me out as they love to plan parties and prepare food. I dug out my hope chest china and they made up party favors to match. We had so many fresh lobsters and lots of potato salad, pickled beet, and jellies of all sorts.
The music was the best though. Everyone here is so musical. Someone started with “There is a Tavern in the Town,” then “Put Your Arms Around Me Honey,” and away the party went, carried into the night on its own legs. I didn’t even realize Don had disappeared until an apparition came down the stairs. We all doubled over laughing as Don appeared, dressed as Kate Smith in a borrowed polka dot dress, supported by a couple of pillows, and a wig of wavy brown hair. He knows I just love her and he sashayed down the stairs singing “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” I laughed and cried, as did we all. From there, the fun and the songs accelerated until the final group went out the lane singing “The Last Rose of Summer.” The sun was coming up as Don and I agreed our first party was a triumph.
Barbara was a champ and slept through it all. Or maybe she was singing along to her favorite songs.
Lots of love from your swinging family up North,
Urla
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
June 10, 1935
Dear Mother, Daddy, and the whole family,
I thought I would write you all since I know you are getting together more often in the summer.
Soccer season has started with a vengeance in St. Lawrence. A team from the French island of Saint Pierre came to town two days ago and they played yesterday in a light drizzle of rain. You won’t believe it, but the children were given the day off school to attend that game. As I told you, the Catholic Church takes soccer very seriously!
I took Barbara to the game and I’m glad she was too young to follow things. Let’s just say neither team held back and the crowd was as vicious as the players. There were a couple of fights including one with the referee. Many of them would make great boxers!
Then this morning the St. Lawrence team left for Saint Pierre. I took Barbara in the pram to see them off. Well what a sight greeted us at the wharf: young men with blown-up tire inner tubes around their necks. Mr. Louis was with me sending off two of his boys to play. Imagine my shock when he told me the inner tubes served as their lifejackets! It turns out the inner tubes are very handy for the return voyage because they make great containers for St. Pierre liquor, and the customs officials are none the wiser.
I guess if they win and no one drowns on the return, it becomes a double celebration with lots of liquor to go around. Don laughed very hard when I told him what we had witnessed at the wharf, and Barbara joined him as though she understood the joke too. I think we are raising a real Newfoundlander!
The town is buzzing with the start of the summer fishery and so far catches have been good. I sure hope so as this sets up many families for the whole year. The people here deserve so much and expect so little.
Barbara is blossoming, especially now in the fresh air. She is the darling of the town, or at least it feels that way to me. Someone makes a fuss over her everywhere I go. Children are adored here. How strange that when I first arrived, I felt that most of them were neglected. They were always outdoors in any kind of weather or told to be quiet when everyone was gathered together. With so many children in each family, I now see that introducing a bit of order is the only way to survive. Mothers and fathers can seem very rough, but there is a tenderness that I somehow missed.
I hear from Dorothy that Edward is walking, so that must be fun around the house on Sundays. I sure miss seeing him grow up, but I’m glad they have you to witness it all.
Please give my love to everyone this Sunday, and to you both of course
Love,
Urla
St. Lawrence Corporation of Newfoundland Ltd.
Room 1116, 120 Broadway
New York 5, New York
June 15, 1935
Dear Don,
Good to hear from you about the progress on the mill. Properly graded ore will make a much easier sell from my end and greatly reduce our shipping costs. Do you think you can find a manager there or will I look for someone through my contacts in St. John’s?
I have read through the inspection report from C. K. House. I need to know which requirements are absolutely necessary. It is not possible to do all of the upgrades and, frankly, there is no way they will force me. I am offering work to people who otherwise would be on the dole. My friends in St. John’s tell me this government won’t last long anyway and the whole thing is a mess. We might last longer than them.
Apparently the latest census showed a population of 280,000 people with a quarter of them on the dole. Efforts to support agriculture are not going well. St. John’s merchants are sending their profits back to England rather than reinvesting in Newfoundland. It’s a calamity if you ask me. On the other hand, I suspect they will squeeze the mining and paper companies to make up for lack of profit elsewhere. The whole situation is worrisome.
At my end, you’ll be pleased to know I am close to signing contracts with a steel company out of Wilmington, Delaware. The American government is strongly considering lowering the tariff on fluorspar, which is the final piece to clinching the contract. I suspect they are looking at events unfolding in Europe and want to be ready in case of war.
I don’t know if you hear anything at your end from the Brits, but this fellow Hitler is starting to rattle some nerves in the U.S. I’m certainly not in favor of another war, but you have to admit it would be good for business.
All the best to you and Urla,
Walter
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
June 22, 1935
Dear Dorothy,
Thank you for all the news about Edward and home. I am so glad the Nutley Symphony Society has been resurrected and that you are a driving force behind it. Hooray for you!
It’s a beautiful summer day here and the children are just finishing school for the year. As Barbara and I were out for a walk after lunch you could see them all heading home, some leaping into the air or skipping while others had their heads down, walking slowly home with an obvious poor report card. Our two will be doing that before we know it.
Their freedom will be short-lived as this town swings into summer. It is a busy time for men, women, and children alike. How goes the summer goes the winter because a good fishery and good haymaking will ensure a family can be fed and clothed for another year. Everyone is expected to help, right down to the smallest. They still seem to entertain themselves though and you can hear children’s games go on
until dark.
I had another “first” today in my continuing adventure, but not one I would recommend. Several people have suggested that a good dose of cod liver oil will help my tiredness, as it is full of vitamins A and D. So I went to visit Uncle Louis at the cod liver oil factory where he works as manager.
Oh my heavens what a stench! The oil is made by putting fresh cod livers in a barrel with seawater. It is left to ferment and the oil rises to the top where it is scooped off and bottled. At certain times of the year, schoolchildren come by the factory and get their cod liver oil on the way to school—right out of the barrel. Uncle Louis made me take mine right from the barrel this morning. I took that as a compliment that he thinks I’m tough enough to have it like the locals. I barely choked it down, but with him and Barbara watching I really didn’t have a choice. He gave me a bottle to take home. I think that deserves a care package from my sister containing Fannie Farmer cookies or a mocha iced cake to help wash down the cod liver oil. I will watch the Post in anticipation.
It was good to get out of there and back into the fresh air. Barbara has gotten used to the strangest smells, including the rotting capelin that is now dressing our garden. Thankfully, the red rose bush I planted last year is full of buds, so she will soon have that beautiful fragrance become part of her repertoire too. No one plants roses here. Partly that’s because the flowers take space from vegetables. It may also be because the most beautiful, lightly scented, wild roses grow all over the place. With the right breeze you can sit outside and think you are in the New York Botanical Garden.
I’m sure your flower stories can make mine look paltry, so I will stop now. Barbara is waiting for dinner and we are both expecting Don home soon.
The mine is going great guns. For the first time since we arrived almost two years ago, Don is starting to look relaxed. Apparently, Siebert has found orders from the U.S. likely resulting from the talk of war in Europe. I find it so sad that we need a war to bring prosperity. So many people will be hurt and damaged forever and others will benefit. I simply can’t think about it.
Dancing In a Jar Page 13
