Mommie Dearest

by Christina Crawford

  Mommie asked me to do her thank-you letters for her so that they’d be ready to mail when we arrived in France. She paid me what I considered the extravagant price of $14 for my work and I didn’t complain a bit.

  After five days of rain and stormy seas, we arrived in Cherbourgh, France. There was a boat train waiting which was taking us to Paris. It was a beautiful ride through the French countryside watching the farms, fields and little villages roll by outside the windows. To my amazement, we had two complete railroad cars to ourselves. Daddy and mommie had their own car and we had separate but adjoining lounge car reserved for Mrs. Howe, the four of us kinds and Jimmy. Shortly after we boarded, a steward came into the car to serve us. Though my French was pretty good after nearly five years of taking it in school, I was grateful that the man spoke English. He told us that lunch would begin being served in about an hour and asked if there was anything he could bring us in the meantime. We all agreed that we’d wait for lunch and settled down to play cards and watch France speed by the window.

  That “lunch” the steward casually announced turned out to be a seven-course gourmet feast that lasted nearly the entire journey to Paris! I’d never seen anything like it in my life. The tables in our lounge car were set with linen clothes, linen napkins, silver, crystal and beautiful china. Then little bouquets of fresh flowers were brought to each place setting.

  Finally we all sat down and began eating. Each course that was served had it’s own china, it’s own proper piece of silverware. Fortunately, mommie had taught us good manners and we all knew to start with the outermost piece of silverware in the place setting and work our way in, course by course. There were so many different kinds of forks and knives and spoons for this meal that it could have gotten very confusing. With each new course, the steward brought a different bottle of French wine. My sisters who were not quite eight years old weren’t allowed more than one glass of wine, but the rest of us had a perfectly wonderful time drinking our way across the country to Paris! I learned that in France there are no minimum drinking ages, and that children were often given wine to drink. I thought that was very civilized … the only unfortunate thing was that we weren’t better able to appreciate the connoisseur quality of the wines … but had a grand time drinking them! In fact, if it hadn’t been for Jimmy’s consumption of several glasses of wine out of each bottle and the never ending dishes of food, our carload of travelers would have passed out cold long before the train reached Paris.

  We took the waiting limousines to the Georges V Hotel to bathe and change our clothes. Before we got on the next train for Switzerland, daddy had us taken on a driving tour of the city of Paris.

  The overnight train was absolutely elegant. All the rooms had polished wood paneling and deep red carpets. Cathy and I shared a compartment and spent half the night with our noses glued to the cold windows. Early the next morning we had to change to one of the narrow gauge trains for our final ascent into the Swiss Alps.

  The entire country looked to me like a Walt Disney movie. The white snow covered everything and was even suspended in the trees and over the rooftops. The Swiss chalets looked just like picture post cards.

  When the train stopped at St. Moritz station there were horse drawn sleighs waiting to take us to the Palace Hotel. The bells on the horses jingled just like Christmas carols and there were big furry lap blankets to protect us from the cold. The sky was crystal clear blue and the entire valley sparkled.

  It was so magnificently beautiful that I was sure I was dreaming. I was sure I would wake up soon, back in my room at the convent. I was in a daze it was so wonderful.

  The Palace Hotel was something out of another era, another century, another time. All the elegance of the last century had been captured in its spacious halls, antique furniture, gracious formal dining rooms and well-trained staff. My room again looked like a movie set. The bed had mountains of feather pillows and down comforters. The windows overlooked the little village covered with white snow and the furniture was all antiques.

  During the next few days we barely saw mommie and daddy. Chris and I went skiing in the morning, ice skating in the afternoon, wandered around the village to our hearts content. We visited mommie and daddy at lunchtime, but were on our own the rest of the time. That afternoon I met some of the people we’d met on the slopes earlier that day. One of the young men invited me to a party that evening. I was delighted. But … I had to tell him that I’d have to let him know and asked him to call the hotel around seven.

  Now I was faced with the first dilemma of this glorious trip. I knew I had to ask mommie if I could go out. Even though I was sixteen and a half, I’d never gone on a real date. The only dating I’d ever done was school at Chadwick. Because I’d been in boarding school since I was 10 years old, the subject had never arisen before. I was scared to death to ask mommie. I had no idea what she’d say or how she’d react. The very last thing I wanted was to do anything wrong, no matter how inadvertent, and I debated several hours before I got up the courage to talk with her.

  We were not supposed to disturb mommie and daddy in the afternoon until around five o’clock, so I sat in my room waiting for the appropriate time to call on the house phone. Their suite was right down the hall from the adjoining rooms Chris and I had, so it didn’t take me long to knock on the door once she’d said it was all right to come and visit with them.

  I was nervous and unsure as to how to broach the subject of my date, but daddy unexpectedly solved the entire problem when he asked me if I’d met any nice young men! It was as though he’d been able to read my mind.

  I smiled sheepishly like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and said, “as a matter of fact, I did meet a very nice young man who’s invited me to a party at Chesa Vega tonight.” I watched carefully to see what the reaction from them would be and held my breath. Mother frowned slightly, but before she said anything, daddy laughed. They agreed that I could go on two conditions: First, I must introduce my date to both of them, and second I had to be home by midnight. I nearly danced for joy! I was going to be able to go out! The restrictions were so reasonable that I was astounded. I ran to hug and kiss both of them, bubbling my thank you’s amidst the kisses. As I was about to leave, mother added that I was also to knock on their door when I returned home, and it better not be one second after midnight! I nodded my head in complete and total agreement and skipped happily out of the room.

  I followed their instructions to the absolute letter and I went out every single night. I went dancing and to lots of parties. It was my first international “jet set” experience and I had a wonderful time dating the wealthy, attractive young men from Spain, England, Australia, France, Italy and Austria.

  On Christmas Eve the whole family gathered in mommie and daddy’s suite for presents. They had ordered caviar and champagne for everyone. We had a wonderful time opening our gifts and watching them smile. Daddy was a terrific story-teller and regaled us with his own skiing escapades in the Austrian Alps years before. Mommie was quieter than usual and seemed happy to open her gifts and preside over the family evening.

  Christmas day was a peaceful one. My brother and I went skiing all day, then met the rest of the family for dinner in the main dining room.

  Chris and I had discovered the formula for staying out of trouble quite by accident. We went skiing all day and simply stayed out of the way. I was a terrible skier, but took my lesson in the morning and sat around with a group of friends in the afternoon. Since the ski slopes were a long distance from the hotel, we didn’t come back down for lunch after the first day. We checked in with mommie and daddy around five o’clock, then I’d go out and Chris would play games after dinner with some other boys he’d met in the hotel.

  The day after Christmas, Daddy had planned to take us to the Olympic ski jumping trials, but when Chris and I returned from the morning ski lessons it didn’t take us long to figure out that something was beginning to turn sour in paradise. My guard went up immedia
tely and I nudged Chris secretly to stay quiet. Daddy was plainly aggravated as he told us that “your mother prefers to stay at the hotel this afternoon”.

  Daddy’s spirits picked up during the sleigh ride, which took us to the jumping trials. Chris and Jimmy and I had a great time with Daddy, laughing most of the afternoon at his jokes and watching the skiers jump off the side of the mountain! with amazing speed, skill and courage. It was the first time we’d been around daddy without mommie and he seemed much more relaxed after he got over being aggravated. Chris and I stood on either side of him, watching the trials and once he put his arms around us. I remember looking at daddy a long time, as long a time as I could without just staring at him and making him uncomfortable. I thought about how wonderful it was to have a father at long last. I thought about all the people who simply take it for granted that they have a mother and a father … a daddy who helps you and takes you places and maybe even loves you. I thought it was probably too soon to expect daddy to love me, but I was hoping with all my heart that someday he might. He was always very kind to me and sometimes when he looked me directly in the eyes, I thought he just might understand something about the person inside me, but I never tried to say anything about it. Though it was very cold in the bleachers set up on the side of that mountain in Switzerland, I was basking in the happiness of being with my daddy, even if it was a sort of instantaneous father-daughter relationship and even if we didn’t talk too much with one another and even if we didn’t know too much about one another. It was a daddy … a nice daddy and that was the hope of having a chance for a real father as time went by.

  During the sleigh ride back to the hotel, we sang Christmas carols until Jimmy broke up the song-fest with one of his off-color limericks.

  We were still laughing when we got back to mommie and daddy’s room bubbling over with stories about the afternoon and just dying to tell mommie about the exciting Olympic time trials.

  The moment she opened the door a cold chill ran through me. I knew before the rest of the group that mommie was in the midst of one of her rages. I suspected that she’d been drinking while we were all away and had gotten herself into a full-fledged temper. It had been evident from daddy’s mood when he first met us that afternoon that they’d had some sort of disagreement, and in our absence, the situation had not improved.

  From years of past experience, I knew my only salvation was to get the hell out of there as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. I managed some fast pleasantries and took my brother out with me.

  Before we had gotten any distance down the hall, the door behind us slammed shut. Just as I had predicted, mommie and daddy launched into one hell of a fight. Chris and I stopped momentarily to listen to the first part of it, but then scurried back to our rooms for fear someone would catch us eavesdropping.

  Except for “checking-in” around six o’clock each evening, that was just about the last I saw of mommie and daddy until New Year’s Eve. It was a festive, gala evening with wonderful food, a terrific band, dancing and finally noise-makers and confetti at the stroke of midnight.

  The next evening, which was our last In St. Moritz, mommie gave a dinner party for Paul Gallico. Paul had been a friend of hers for many years and she was delighted to play hostess again. She had arranged for a private dining room in the hotel and had it decorated with a huge cow bell as the table centerpiece. The guest list read like an old European movie cast with the Baron and Baroness von Faltzfein, Prince Constantine and Princess Monica of Liechtenstein in attendance. I had asked an Englishman named David Bennett to be my escort. To my horror, I realized only an hour before the dinner party that mother had gotten confused and invited another young man named David to be my escort. She’d gotten the two David’s mixed up so while I was inviting one, she was inviting the other! Well, there was no chance of stopping either of them from showing up by this time, so I had two young men, both named David, as dinner partners that evening. It was terribly funny but also very embarrassing!

  The next morning Chris and I went up to the ski slopes to say goodbye to all our friends. We were very sad to be leaving this beautiful village after having such a wonderful time, but in my diary I wrote that daddy promised we’d all be back.

  The overnight train took us back to Paris where we checked into the George V Hotel again. My room was enormous and the bathroom was as big as half the main room. The only thing I couldn’t understand was why they had two toilets in the one bathroom. It seemed very curious to me. I decided to flush both of them to see what the difference was, and did I get the shock of my life! Oh well, these French …

  Chris and I went with a chauffeur that daddy had hired on a tour of Paris. During our three day stay, we went through the Louvre, Versailles, Malmaison, Sacre Coeur, Notre Dame and the tomb of Napoleon. I bought some French religious cards, a few small religious medals and a lovely hand-carved rosary for the sisters at Flintridge. The rosary was intended for Sister Benigna although I wasn’t sure that she could keep a personal gift.

  In the evening we went to the Roland Petit ballet and our last night in Paris, of course, it had to be Maxime’s.

  A friend of mother’s, Peter Railly, had been kind enough to take me to the Left Bank where we had lunch at a little cafe and then walked through the art galleries. So, although we hadn’t been there very long … we had certainly “done” Paris!

  That night we took the Blue Train for the south of France. The Ted Michelle’s were there to see us off. Ted was working for Pepsi in Paris and was a great friend of daddy’s.

  Early the next morning we arrived in Cannes and went to the Carlton Hotel to spend the few hours until we boarded the boat. Mommie didn’t want to go anywhere, but I begged daddy to let us have the car and driver so we could see a little of the Rivera. He good-naturedly agreed that it was foolish to have the car and not use it, so the four of us kids and Mrs. Howe set off. I told the driver to head south and we drove along a seaside road that took us along the Rivera, through Nice and down into Monte Carlo. We walked around Monte Carlo and I was quite pleased with my ability to speak French well enough to do some bargaining for the souvenirs we bought. On the way back to Cannes, we noticed that there were a number of beautiful villas overlooking the Mediterranean for sale … how we wished we could buy one!

  After a rather strained luncheon with mommie and daddy, we drove down to the docks and boarded the small boat that took us out to our ship, the Andrea Doria.

  The Andrea Doria was the reigning queen of Italian luxury liners. She was beautifully appointed with murals, plush furniture, glorious food and overall a magnificent ship. When she ran into a freighter and sank several years later, my sisters were aboard the Ile de France which rescued many of the survivors.

  But in January of 1956, there was no hint of the ill fate destined to befall this beautiful ship. It was luxury and service and elegance personified.

  The next morning we stopped in Naples, Italy to pick up more passengers. Since there was enough time to leave the ship, I again badgered daddy to take us to Pompeii. He and mommie agreed since we were so close it would be educational for all of us, so daddy ordered two limousines for the journey.

  I was not prepared for what I was to see during my brief stay in Naples. All we had seen of Europe up until this point was the luxury hotels, the ski resorts and the beautiful restaurants. It never even dawned on me to think of the devastation of World War II, or of hunger and poverty. I was stunned by the sights that met my naive eyes that cool, rainy January day. As we stepped off the small boat that brought us to the docks I saw groups of thin, shabby men milling around outside the high fences that circled the dock area. I asked the driver why those men were here and he replied in broken English that they were waiting for work. They came and waited every day for the half-dozen or so extra jobs that might be parceled out, doing sweeping, unloading or anything that might pay a few lira.

  Mother was upset when she saw the “limousines”. They weren’t regular limousines at all.
They were two strange old rickety jalopies that had been painted black. But the drivers excitedly explained to daddy that there weren’t any better cars in Naples. That seemed hard to believe, but since we just barely had enough time to get to Pompeii and back before lunch, daddy didn’t argue with them. Mother complained about the car most of the way to Pompeii, but I didn’t pay any attention … I had my eyes glued to the countryside, as usual.

  We were outside of the town of Naples in just a few minutes. The countryside was bleak and flat. Along the road I saw ruins of buildings that had been bombed during the war which had ended more than ten years before. Most of the buildings had no second floor left, none of them had glass in the windows and many had no doors. To my total and complete astonishment, I realized after a few miles that people were living in these places. I asked the driver if that was so and he confirmed my observations. As we drove further into the country along the bumpy road, I noticed something like haystacks dotting the fields, only most of them had small, smoldering fires in front of them. Again I asked the driver for information, and he told me that those were like tents made out of thatch or straw and that there were entire families living in those straw tents. “Why?” I asked. He simply told me in a very matter-of-fact way that those people had nowhere else to live, they had no money and no jobs … so they lived in the fields under the straw tents and burned dung in their fires.

  Mommie and daddy were talking, but I really didn’t hear much of what they said. I was shocked by the poverty and the bombed buildings and the people burning dung … in 1956. I had no idea … I’d never heard anyone talk about anything like what I was seeing with my own eyes. I was quiet … thinking about the odd state of the world …

  Pompeii surpassed everything I had read about it in books. It surpassed even my own imagination about what an ancient Roman city would look like. The temples and the open forum were so beautifully symmetrical … you could almost hear the ancient orators across the echoes of thousands of years. We walked down the little narrow cobbled streets and peeked into what the guide told us were shops and then houses. We went into the baths and there I was really impressed. The guide explained how the Romans had a hot water heating system that ran through all the stone beaches around the edge of the baths and under the stone decking. I found it miraculous that the Romans had hot running water and so many of the other amenities that modern civilization has only enjoyed over the last fifty years!