Dancing In a Jar (13 page)

He knew there was some discontent with working conditions, and agreed with much of what the men were asking for. Don had already requested a raise in wages but was flatly turned down by Siebert who insists there is no more money for the operation. Now they have a much bigger problem, and the union organizer, Aloysius Turpin, is a bit of a troublemaker, so watch out.

They are all meeting today, so I am hoping for some better news. I have a blueberry pie lying in wait for him, made from my own hard days work of picking. Getting down to the bushes is getting a little harder, but I still managed to join a great gaggle of girls for an afternoon of berry picking. As always, it turned into a fun affair.
Some of them can pick for hours with flour sacks tied around their waists and they pick with both hands. They will make mostly jam, but I know how Don loves a good pie.

I’m happy to hear you are settled back at Varsity. Sophomore year was very happy for me and I hope for you. Hopefully you will have a sweeter roommate than last year. It’s not too early to learn that sophistication can come at a high price.

Mother has written that you are thinking about teaching as your career, and there was some concern about following so directly in my footsteps. I am honored, little Sis.

When I started at Bucknell, I really thought I would become a writer, and who knows, maybe I will still. But the whole process of teaching started to fascinate me and I could see myself helping others to love English literature like I do. You don’t have to go to Uppsala College, but I loved it there and living in East Orange gave me my first real taste of being alone. Oh, I missed Don alright, but we managed most weekends at Bucknell or Uppsala, so that helped.

Since coming here I have a whole new respect for the teaching profession. I’m not sure if I told you but I bring any books I have to the convent so the Sisters can use them in their own teaching. Turns out they read them first and they have a lively discussion amongst themselves. There are days I would love to be a witness to their cloistered lives together.

I’ve only ever been invited into the vestibule of the Sacred Heart Convent, but it has been enough to intrigue me. There are about eight Sisters in the congregation of the Sisters of Mercy in St. Lawrence. This mission was established in 1871 by two Sisters direct from Ireland. I cannot imagine what they encountered sixty-five years ago in this place, but they stayed, built the convent, and most importantly taught school. Their first school was in a fishing shed and they taught about ninety-five students.

Eventually, one of the Sisters, Sister Mary Borgia, was bequeathed a sizable sum from a brother in Ireland, which she used to build a new
church and two-room school for St. Lawrence. She is still here in the convent and loves literature, so I imagine she is a passionate teacher. They all have high standards for reading, writing, and speaking. This is obvious in the population. People may have thick accents but most speak and write very well. I have heard that Sister Mary Bernard gives them all elocution lessons, which would be a good idea even in New Jersey!

These women are true teachers in every sense and in every aspect of their lives. They invited me to come to help with reading in grades three and four. I panicked a little because I’ve put so much thought and anxiety into what kind of teacher I will be. After a few days watching these Sisters, I now realize I’ll be exactly the kind of teacher the students need. I’m not sure it’s any more complicated than that. I am in awe of their incredible sense of dedication and selflessness. I know you will be a teacher true to yourself as well.

Always good to finish a letter on the subject of selflessness!

Much love to you, dear Ivah. I look forward to an update soon.

Love,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

October 1, 1934

Dear Ivah,

A quick note to say thanks for the school newsletters and the Fannie Farmer cookies. I have to hide them from Don and ration them with our evening coffee.

You have probably heard that Mother and Daddy are encouraging me to travel home for the birth earlier than I would like. I know they’re scared to death that I might have a baby in this primitive place. I’ve done a poor job of convincing them that there is some semblance of civilization here.

I am fine with coming home. But Mother’s tone always has an edge—like she is worried I won’t remember what fork to use with oysters! She has already made it clear to me that she thought she left knitting back in Scotland. Imagine how she’ll feel about me picking berries in a flour sack!

Oh well, at least I will have you around at Christmas and that is a great comfort to me. So work hard and get home early.

My love,
U

St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

September 30, 1934

Dear Walter,

Although this will take longer to reach you, I cannot risk having the contents of a telegraph broadcasted around the community. I would advise you to do the same from now on.

Although in hindsight there were a number of indications of discontent at the mine, I was very surprised to find they had gone to the extreme of forming a union. One of the men, Aloysius Turpin, has been in contact with other union members at the Buchans and Wabana mines. It didn’t take him long to discover that their wages are higher, and working conditions better than here.

I did indicate this to you in July when you visited, as I was well aware of it from my meeting with other managers in St. John’s in April. Now that we are really pushing the men to fill these new orders, Mr. Turpin has seized the opportunity to organize their demands and lead the pack.

My frank assessment is that we can appease the workers by offering a wage increase, which I endorse. The other demands, for improved conditions, can be reconsidered in the spring. This should get us through this demanding period, until financing allows us to address operational concerns here at the site.

I must emphasize that to a man, our two shifts are hard-working and productive. We are moving spar to the wharf in all kinds of conditions. I’m not sure I thought this possible this time last year.

I look forward to your response.

Regards,
Donald

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

October 1, 1934

Dear Donald,

How distressing to get your correspondance about developments with the workers. I hope you received my quick reply by telegraph that I do not have the means to change any aspect of the operation right now, except to ask that all hands fill the orders I have worked hard to secure.

I have seen this nonsense before. The formation of the union is often just a scare tactic, and you will find naysayers and rabble-rousers like Mr. Turpin in every operation. It is your job to manage this and surely well within your capability.

Again I must stress there is no room for added benefits.

I understand you were away when all of this happened. I suspect you have learned that you must be on the ground at all times in a pioneer operation as we have here.

My best to Mrs. Poynter.

Regards,
Walter

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

October 10, 1934

Dear Mother and Dad,

I thought I’d write you about an interesting visit and revelation.

Magistrate Hollett came to town yesterday and we got together with Mr. Aubrey Farrell for a fierce game of contract bridge. Don and I are becoming quite the team and our risky bidding earned us the game.

However that is not my revelation. The Magistrate brought me a book from his collection on the meaning and importance of names—a very thoughtful gift as Don and I have started to argue about baby names already. Of course I decided to look up the names you chose for us three girls. I started with Dorothy and was thrilled to find it is Greek for “God’s great gift.” Then I find that Ivah means the exact same thing but in Hebrew.

Imagine my surprise when I discover the genesis of Urla, a name I have never really been fond of but assumed was decreed by some Scottish Laird as meaning “Strong Lady of the Mist,” or some other romantic vision. Instead I find I have been named for a town or peninsula in Turkey. In fact, Urla is a Greek word meaning marshland.

You will be relieved to know that after my initial shock I laughed and laughed. My sisters are God’s great gift, everyone here is named for a saint, and I am called after a marshland.

I am sure someday I will get the full story from you and we can laugh all over again. In the meantime, I’ll make sure my child’s name is not wet and boggy.

Love as always,
Marshy Urla

St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

October 15, 1934

Dear Mom, Pop, How and E,

I have fallen behind on correspondence lately and I hope you all forgive me. The situation at the mine is tense and deserves my full attention.

The men are making demands that Siebert says we can’t meet. In the meantime, I am supposed to motivate them to increase production to fill orders. We have had a lot of rain this fall, so the pumps are barely keeping ahead of the floods. The mine is wet and cold and these oilcloth clothes simply aren’t enough to keep anyone dry. We need proper rubber pants and jackets and a place for the men to change before and after shift.

I have promised (something I really can’t do) that we will rectify this in the spring and that seems to have mollified everyone at the moment. I’m not enjoying doing this dance I can tell you. I have promoted one man, Celestine Giovannini, to be the foreman at the mine, and I have a lot of confidence in him. I’m hoping he can help keep production and spirits up at the same time.

The Herald Tribune
has been arriving regularly, so thank you for that subscription. The coverage of parties, museum events, and shows of every description sure gives the impression that New York City has forgotten about the Depression. Days of poverty and joblessness seem very far away when you read the paper.

Urla is being a champ about my long days at the mine site. Thankfully, she has made some good friends who come calling to keep her company. She still manages some good walks around town but no more hiking to the top of Chapeau Rouge! The young women here think nothing of taking off through scrub pine and bush and walking to the top of capes, overland for good berry picking, or off to one of the many beaches for a picnic. They are as thin and trim as they are hearty. You will then find them sitting around in the evening sewing lace onto collars and remaking clothes that were brought home from someone’s visit away. Perfume and hairstyles are as popular a topic here as they were in the girls’ sorority at Bucknell. Not a boatload of Saint Pierre liquor is allowed in the harbor unless there is something aboard for the women of the community.

As I write this evening, Urla is practicing rug hooking, her new-found love. An English nurse has been posted to St. Lawrence for a couple of months. Her previous station was in northern Newfoundland with the Grenfell mission, where she learned rug hooking with silk stockings in the Grenfell style. When I asked Urla how her day was she sometimes kids that her biggest decision was whether to knit or hook rugs, each providing equal pleasure.

The Crammonds have written me separately requesting that Urla get home for the birth earlier than we had planned. I don’t want to make any waves and have booked passage for October 30th. This means I will follow much later, closer to the baby’s arrival in mid-December. I’m sure you all will look in on her and keep her company until I arrive.

I sure look forward to some good pipe tobacco. I’m down to the local stuff now and it is so hard you have to cut it and massage it, and some even chew it, to soften it enough to burn. Maybe it’s a bad sign that I don’t find it too bad!

More anon.

As ever,
Donald

The Lord Nelson
Halifax, Nova Scotia

November 1, 1934

My Dear Don,

How very strange to find myself in this hotel without you. It feels like ten years ago, not one, that we were here together about to start our new adventure.

This time around I am about thirty pounds heavier and I’m sitting in the room looking at all the beautiful baby clothes given to me the other evening. I suspect you realized I could hardly contain my tears at the kindness. The darling bonnets in every shade from my reading circle, and the matinee jackets and leggings from the Farrells and Slaneys make me so happy I can’t really explain it. I now know why I could never find any baby wool! Everyone in St. Lawrence was knitting up a storm for us.

I’d rather not talk about the trip over except to say I was glad to see Halifax harbor. I had not realized you had asked everyone on board to watch out for me, so answering all their concerned questions certainly took my mind off the rocking! I met the captain for the next leg at breakfast here this morning and he says we should have smooth sailing right into Brooklyn Bridge. One part of my brain says they all say that, but I am choosing to go with the other part that says yippee.

Your little boy or girl is kicking up a storm anyway, so it will be a rough ride even if the seas are like a bathtub.

As per instructions I will have Daddy telegraph you the minute I arrive.

I hope our little house is not too lonely for you. Just close your eyes and imagine the three of us there very soon. Promise me you won’t work too hard and won’t practice bridge too often without me.

All my love from our honeymoon spot,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 22, 1934

Dear Urla,