—3—
Although Murdock enjoyed ‘painting the town’ as much as any young man, and often did so by frequenting Pat’s with his newly made friends, he never let himself fall too heavily under the influence of alcohol, or to lose control of himself under any circumstance for that matter. Being witness during his youth in Basswood Ridge to the crazy antics of men who fell under the influence of alcohol always gave him pause and solidified his disdain for that type of lifestyle.
Similarly, Murdock was not one to arbitrarily pick up girls just for the sole purpose of obtaining quick gratification. On the other hand, he was not one to pass up an opportunity to dance with any of the many fine young ladies he attracted, or to merely strike up a conversation with them either. And Murdock was quite good at all three: attracting ladies, dancing, and conversing. Being so capable in those areas, people often wondered why he had not latched onto one of the many available young women he inevitably met. It was not because the girls who frequented Pat’s Bar were not attractive, or were not ‘good girls’, so to speak, because many of them were; and it certainly was not the case that they were not attracted to him either. Rather, it was that he wanted someday to meet someone really special, someone he could spend his life with, and so far he had not come close to meeting anyone like that.
Oh, being human, the tall, handsome lad was often tempted by some of the beautiful women he met on Hancock Street. Of course, some were more tempting than others. He met one such young lady quite by accident only two weeks after arriving in Bangor. Murdock was coming home after working late one night and, as he rounded the poorly lit corner of Hancock and Newbury, the exhausted Canadian literally bumped into her.
“Well, hello there, big fella,” she said upon seeing the tall handsome man.
“Beg your pardon, miss. I guess I should’ah been lookin’ where I was goin’.”
“You don’t hav’ta apologize, mistah. Believe me, it was a pleasure bumping into you.”
“Even so, miss, I’ll try to be more careful from here on out. Are you okay?”
“Well, I’ll be a lot better if you’ll join me for a date.”
Remembering what Bobby told him about the girls on Hancock Street, Murdock politely declined her invitation.
“Maybe another time then,” she said. “By the way, handsome, my name is Jenny. Look me up if you ever get lonely.”
“People call me Murdy. And thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”
From then on Murdock and Jenny regularly ran into each other on Hancock Street, and although their conversation was quite typical of what one might expect in that situation, the outcome was not. Indeed, the two carried on a very unusual relationship. Whenever Jenny heard Murdock coming—something that was not uncommon to anyone on Hancock Street, because you would always hear him whistling his favorite Stephen Foster songs when he walked home from work—she eagerly rushed out of her hotel room to meet him. And then she playfully teased him by doing her best impression of a sexy ‘lady of the night’, swaying her hips in a womanly manner while walking confidently up to him and asking:
“Hi, big fella; want a date?”
And, of course, he always politely declined her offer. However, before long the two became close friends, each enjoying and actually looking forward to playing their cat and mouse game.
But that was the extent of Murdock’s interaction with the ladies of Hancock Street. Although he enjoyed the playful interaction with Jenny, and a few of the other ladies he met, he had no desire to be anything more than a friend to any of them. And, despite his friendly nature and his ability to attract women, Murdock never met anyone in the barroom scene, or in any other social setting for that matter, who figuratively swept him off his feet. Indeed, it would be at his place of work where the young Canadian finally met an American girl who appeared to fulfill his concept of ‘the ideal woman’; and it was just in the nick of time as far as he was concerned.
Chapter 6
Maggie
In 1903, Murdock, now 23, had worked at the Bangor Freight Station for nearly four years, and, just when he was beginning to give up hope of meeting someone he could envision spending the rest of his life with, he noticed a stunning dark-haired woman being interviewed for the newly open job of personal secretary to the station manager. The young-looking girl had lily-white skin that made her shiny black hair seem even darker than it was. As she stood asking directions of a janitor, just inside the station’s all-glass front door, her skin seemed to almost glow in the sunlight that it let seep through. And, to Murdock’s way of thinking, she was without doubt the most beautiful and certainly the sweetest looking girl that he had ever seen.
“She can’t be much over 18,” he thought.
Although yet to speak a word to her, somehow he sensed that this angelic-looking girl could be the one he had been patiently waiting for. If she was, Murdock would surely find out, because everyone knew that there was one thing you could be sure of about Murdock Haley: the impetuous Canadian was not one to let an opportunity to meet a beautiful woman slip away, especially one as lovely as this.
Margaret Merrill Carver was born and raised in Glenburn, Maine, a small town just north of Bangor. She was a distant relative of John Carver, an Englishman who arrived in America on the H.M.S. Mayflower, in December of 1620, and who subsequently became the first governor of the Plymouth Colony: the settlement at Plymouth, Massachusetts. Almost a year after arriving at Plymouth, the Pilgrims and the native Indians inhabiting that area participated in a feast that would come to be recognized as a truly historic event: the very first Thanksgiving dinner in the land that would over 150 years later be known as the United States of America. It was at one of the early feasts that a well-respected and very handsome member of the Carver clan met a beautiful Indian girl named Princess Falling Star, the daughter of a renowned Wampanoag Indian Chief.
In time the handsome Pilgrim settler married the woman who was destined to become Margaret Carver’s most unique, if not most notable ancestor. Although Margaret inherited many striking features from her distant grandmother, including her natural beauty and jet-black hair, she inherited her lily-white skin from John Carver’s side of the family. She undoubtedly inherited her intelligence, courage, independent nature, and charming personality from both ancestors, since those were traits that both shared.
As Margaret talked to the station manager about the secretarial job she was seeking, Murdock inconspicuously worked his way closer to the main office with the specific intention of listening to the conversation between the two. Normally Murdock would be too busy to loiter this way, but fortunately his workload was minimal that day since no boats, wagons, or freight trains were scheduled to visit the station. Murdock’s only assignment for the day was to inventory the products stored on carts inside the building: those awaiting barges that would be coming the next day and the day after that. During the long and extremely detailed interview process, he overheard through the slightly ajar office door that Miss Carver had graduated from Bangor High School in ‘97. Further conversation revealed that she needed a good paying job to help support her widowed mother, who lived in the nearby town of Glenburn. Murdock also learned from her demeanor, which he observed through the large office window, that the young woman seeking a job was a very shy, albeit extremely affable person. Those characteristics, her mannerisms, and the sultry way in which she spoke only enhanced his growing attraction to the girl.
Even after he learned all he needed to about her, Murdock stood almost transfixed, staring at the beautiful young woman for what seemed like an hour, until his congenial foreman noticed what he was doing.
“What’s the matter, Murdy, don’t feel like working today?” the foreman shouted.
“Oh, sorry, Ray. I guess I was just a mite distracted,” Murdock coyly replied.
“I can see that,” the foreman laughed.
Caught off guard by the fore
man’s remarks, the smitten Canadian started to turn away and head back to work when he realized that he had forgotten to check out the most important thing about the attractive girl. He quickly glanced at her left hand and, after seeing that her ring finger was bare, breathed a sigh of relief. And then, having no lack of self-confidence, said to himself:
“Someday I’m gonna marry that girl.”
The curious Carver girl noticed the young man standing only thirty feet away staring at her through the plain glass window. Immediately she began to blush, and then, seated ladylike as any proper woman would be, checked her dress to make sure it was pulled down to her ankles, as was deemed appropriate in those days. After doing that, she saw a smile of amusement come across the young man’s handsome face. His charming smile brought a similar one to her ever-deepening reddened face, and from that moment forward their fate had been sealed.
Much to Murdock’s delight Margaret was given the job at the station right then and there, and the attentive Canadian kept his eyes glued to the beautiful young woman for the remainder of her first morning on the job. His infatuation was so obvious that Bobby was constantly teasing him, something his best friend was prone to do.
“Be careful, Murdy, or she’ll get her hooks into you.”
Murdock laughed, replying: “Mark my word, Bobby, she’s the one who needs to be careful.”
Bobby smiled knowingly because Murdock’s assertion was something he had no doubts about, no doubts at all. After finishing the inventory Murdock spent the rest of the day constantly thinking about the beautiful young woman, and, as a result, for the first time since working at the station he got precious little productive work accomplished the rest of the day. In fact, much of the late afternoon was spent devising a variety of clever plans that he could use to ‘accidentally’ meet the girl. But in the end the intrepid Canadian finally decided that a much more direct approach was the best.
—1—
A little after 5pm, when her first day of work was at an end, Margaret Carver hurried outside and turned right, onto Exchange Street. When she came to Washington she saw an older woman driving by in a shiny carriage pulled by a small white horse, and watched her cross over the Kenduskeag, headed toward the west side of Bangor. Coming from that direction was an empty freight-wagon driven by a clearly obese man. Just as he was passing Margaret, he spit a ward of chewing tobacco that landed five feet from her.
“Gross!” she uttered.
She turned to say something else, but instead she waited for a stagecoach to pass and then dashed across Washington. Once across the busy street, she kept straight ahead and began walking briskly along Exchange Street where, after passing Hancock and York, she would turn right onto State Street to walk or, if time was of the essence, run up a steep hill toward the Broadway intersection, hopefully to catch the 5:15 trolley to her home in Glenburn. But Margaret had progressed only about 100 feet on Exchange Street when from a few feet behind she heard someone running and yelling.
“Hey, wait up, miss!”
She turned and saw a handsome young man running toward her. Margaret realized that it was the man she had noticed constantly staring at her while she was working. When Murdock caught up to her, he introduced himself as a fellow employee of the Bangor Freight Station and asked if she wanted to have coffee with him at Judy’s, now his favorite luncheon spot. Being interested in the young man herself, she politely accepted his offer.
“I guess that would be all right,” she said. “It looks like I’m gonna miss the 5:15 trolley anyway, so I’ll have to wait until the 6:15 comes along. By the way, in case you’re interested, my name is Margaret Carver.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself more formally. My name is Murdock—Murdock Haley—but most everyone calls me Murdy.”
“Murdock? What an unusual name. I’m pleased to meet you, Murdock. My friends call me Maggie.”
“I can assure you, Maggie, the pleasure is all mine. Have you eaten at Judy’s before?”
“Oh yes. I used to eat there all the time when I went to Bangor High. In fact, the Judy that the restaurant is named after was a classmate of mine. We’re real good friends. Her parents used to give me a break on my meals. Still do, come to think of it. But take my word: even if I had never met Judy, I would have eaten there anyway. The food tastes almost as good as home cooking.”
“I’ll second that,” he said. “I found Judy’s the day I moved here from Canada. Been eating there regular ever since. It’s not quite like my mom’s cooking, but it’s more than adequate for my tastes.”
“So you’re from Canada, huh?”
“I’m afraid so. When we get to Judy’s I’ll tell you all about it; and then maybe you’ll tell me all about yourself.”
“Maybe? We’ll see,” she responded.
And off they went. After coming to the massive Exchange Building and starting to turn the corner onto State Street, Margaret spoke.
“This is where I found the job at the freight station.”
“Me too,” Murdock said. And then he joked: “Wait a minute, Maggie, I must go in and thank the employment company for sending you my way.”
Margaret laughed and said: “Maybe you should wait a bit, Murdy. When you get to know me better you may want to curse them instead of thanking them.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much. But I suppose it doesn’t hurt to wait,” he joked again.
And then to play it safe, he winked and smiled at Margaret to make sure that she didn’t take his remark the wrong way. To emphasize that he was indeed joking, he nudged her sideways with his elbow, knocking her slightly off balance.
“Be careful, Murdy. You don’t know me that well, yet,” she said with a shy smile on her face.
On the way to Judy’s the jovial young couple made more small talk: mainly about the weather, about working at the Bangor Freight Station, and about the city in which it resided. They did so while briskly walking uphill along the east side of State Street, toward Oak and Broadway. About halfway up the hill they crossed French Street, and by the time they reached the top of the deathly steep hill, and were across the road from the trolley stop on Broadway, both were out of breath. After a few seconds, Murdock spoke.
“Climbing that hill is hell! In fact, I think I’ll call it Purgatory Hill from now on.”
“That seems like an suitable name, Murdy. Well, it looks like the trolley’s a little behind schedule today. I suppose if I scooted across the street I might be able catch it before it leaves,” Margaret said jokingly, while trying to catch her breath, all the while hoping that the handsome Canadian would take the hint and try to talk her out of it.
Fortunately, Murdock sensed that she had no great desire to catch the trolley just then, and since he wanted to spend time with her, he said: “It looks like it’s about to leave, Maggie. I don’t think you can make it; and besides, it appears to be full. Even if you did get on, you might have to stand. Perhaps you’d better wait for the next one.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I’m so exhausted from walking up Purgatory Hill I certainly don’t have the energy to be standing on the ride home. In fact, I think I need something to eat now, just to get my energy back.”
“Good, it’s settled. Judy’s it is,” a visibly relieved Murdock said.
The twosome smiled at each other and continued along State Street.
Chapter 7
The Right One?
After crossing Broadway Murdock jokingly spoke to Margaret.
“Well, we survived Purgatory Hill, so it’s all downhill from here.”
Margaret looked up and saw that the sidewalk ahead was slightly uphill for the next 200 feet and by no means downhill after that, but she knew what the Canadian meant.
“Thank God,” she said, “I’m so faint thanks to that hill, I doubt I could take another step. Of course, my skipping lunch today pro
bably didn’t help either. But I needed to shed a few pounds.”
“Are you serious, Maggie?” he responded. “You don’t need to lose any weight; you look great!”
“Thanks for the compliment, Murdy, but I’m thinking you’ve got your rose-colored glasses on today. Either that or you’re daft.”
Murdock just laughed, shook his head, and said: “Women!”
Then suddenly, he burst out laughing again, this time a louder and more prolonged laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Margaret asked.
“I just remembered something my brother Harry used to say to Edith, our extremely skinny sister.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“He’d say: ‘You’re so thin you’d disappear if you turned sideways.’ I always thought that was sooo hysterical. Edith would roll her eyes and then shake her head at Harry.”
Margaret smiled and kept walking, all the while being both amused and delighted at Murdock’s boyish playfulness. Since Judy’s was only two blocks from Broadway, it wasn’t long before the new friends crossed over Pine Street and saw the tiny restaurant waiting for them just up ahead.
Anyone who saw the restaurant from a distance would describe it as a small, nondescript, two-story house sitting on the corner of Essex and State Street, not as a thriving eating establishment. The only indication that it housed a restaurant was the small sign above its door—JUDY’S: YOU CRAVE IT, WE’LL COOK IT—and two large windows in front that gave witness to hungry people sitting at small wooden tables, just on the other side; and even those indicators could only be seen clearly if you were standing on the sidewalk in front of the small white structure. Upon entering, one would see that the inside was no more alluring than the outside. But looks or even ambience was not what Judy’s was known for: food was; and word-of-mouth made it the most popular restaurant on the east side. The throngs of noisy people that inhabited it attested to that.
Journey With the Comet Page 4