My Peculiar Family

by Les Rosenthal

  Mary Frances would never know exactly what happened in the Crown Bar that night. She was already on a ship bound for New England when the police arrived to find the bodies of Ferguson Williams and Theresa Flanagan, who had paid the ultimate price for her revenge. There was also a ring, which many of the spinners could verify as having belonged to one Mary Frances Dimsdale, who was never seen again. Older spinners in the mill began to use the story as a cautionary tale against being too friendly with their coworkers and to focus only on their work.

  Management liked it best that way.

  Crowninshield’s Apothecary

  The story of:

  Calvin Crowninshield, an Apothecary

  Rob Watts

  January, 1898

  There was a light dusting of snow coating the cobblestoned streets of Boston’s Beacon Hill neighborhood. It was a few short weeks into the new year of 1898, and Bostonians braced themselves for another long winter season. The gas lit streets of Beacon Hill were alive with an abundance of residents hurrying home to avoid the frigid evening air.

  Just outside the southern foot of Charles Street, a fine-dining restaurant named Appletons overlooked the snow-blanketed Boston Common. Inside, at the restaurant’s finest table, sat four gentlemen who were about to order their meals. They were Dr. Charles Bacon, a Harvard professor, Philip Perkins, a constitutional lawyer, Leverett Saltonstall, a banker, and Calvin Crowninshield, an apothecary whose store was located a few doors down from the restaurant.

  Calvin and his wife Abigail had a nine-year-old son named Oliver. Soon after his son’s birth, Calvin had opened up the store along Charles Street. There he had formulated and dispensed herbal and patented medicines. One of Calvin’s recent formulas, a mixture of honey, bergamot oil and cranberry, was used in the successful treatment of bladder infections. Over the years, Calvin had created many unique and helpful remedies, and the store’s popularity grew. It was Dr. Charles Bacon, the Harvard professor, who came to discover the work of Calvin and his effective medicine. He was impressed with Calvin Crowninshield’s innovation and devotion in keeping the community healthy. In time, he got to know the enterprising young man better, and found him to be a suitable candidate for entry into The Club. After some persuasion, the other members of the council agreed that Calvin was indeed, a good fit.

  As the four gentlemen raised their glasses, they recited in unison a toast, “And this is good old Boston, the home of the bean and the cod. Where the Lowells talk only to Cabots, and the Cabots talk only to God.” They clinked their wine glasses and shared a laugh before their table captain approached to take their order.

  Charles Bacon ordered first, “I’ll have the Shellfish Soufflé with Steamed Head Cheese.”

  “Very good, sir,” said the server, turning his attention to Philip Perkins, “and for you, sir?”

  “I would like to try the Dried Cardamom Paste with Roast Beef and Apple Fondue.”

  “That’s an excellent choice, sir. And what may I get for you, sir?” facing Leverett Saltonstall.

  “I shall have the Oyster and Frankfurter Puree with Sweet Sea Urchin Drippings.”

  “It’s the best in the city. And finally, what may I get for you, sir?”

  Calvin pondered his decisions for another moment. He replied, “I can’t decide if I should have the Tepid Abalone and Tangerine Gravy tossed with Aged Ham, or shall I try the Greenish Swordfish and Hazelnuts on a bed of Flame-Broiled Kielbasa and Trout Noodles?”

  The server replied, “If I say so myself, sir, the Tepid Abalone is remarkable. And don’t say I told you so, but the governor comes in and orders it every Friday night.”

  Calvin handed the menu to the waiter and decided on the Abalone, if it was good enough for the governor, a longtime member of The Club; it was good enough for him. Charles said to Calvin “Not to worry, Calvin. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to taste everything on the menus of Boston’s finest restaurants. Just you wait, my good friend, just you wait.”

  “Here, here,” toasted the other gentlemen, as they raised their glasses once again.

  April, 1898

  The winter season had taken its leave from Beacon Hill. In the few months that had passed, Calvin nestled nicely into Boston’s elite society. Business in the shop on Charles Street was booming. As the store’s favorable reputation spread, locals visited regularly for Calvin’s special remedies, also for periodicals, sweets, sundries and tobacco. It seemed that Calvin’s customer base had nearly tripled since being welcomed into The Club. The secret fraternity of the elite had a way of encouraging its own.

  One afternoon, in late April, a mysterious gentleman unknown to Calvin entered the store. At first glance, it was obvious that this man was not from Beacon Hill. His coat was tattered, and the derby which rested on his head looked like something that might have been found in the rubbish bin. He was short in stature. The man’s filthy derby was eye-level to Calvin. The stranger’s appearance made it obvious that he hadn’t come from a world of privilege, unlike Calvin’s regular customers. For several minutes, Calvin watched as the man browsed through the store, flipping through the newspapers, until Calvin approached him. “May I help you?” Calvin asked.

  The man looked Calvin up and down, and asked, “Are you the druggist?”

  Calvin smiled and replied, “Yes I am. May I help you with something?”

  The man looked up at Calvin for a second or two before responding, “Yes, I heard that you’re good at treating a variety of problems. I was hoping you could help me.”

  Calvin smiled and nodded his head, “Yes, that’s correct. Perhaps I can help you. What say we walk over here and discuss the type of problem you have?” Calvin led the man over towards the counter, where from behind, were displayed a large variety of herbs and blends. “Now, what sort of problem do you have?” he asked.

  The man looked Calvin over and replied “I have a problem with deception. It’s a very big problem, and I was wondering if you had a remedy for it.”

  Calvin, looking very confused, asked “What do you mean deception? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you?” asked the man. He continued, “You see, deception is a big problem, and it seems to get worse all the time. Now I know you’re a man who likes to treat problems, so I was wondering if you could help me.”

  Calvin was puzzled by the man’s line of cryptic questioning and he was beginning to get annoyed. Teetering on the verge of an outburst, Calvin stood silent for a few seconds more before raising his voice slightly and saying, “Listen, friend. I’m a very busy man. I’ve had quite enough of this. Either you tell me who you are and what you want or I’ll be forced to throw you out of here.”

  The man cracked a grin and backed away from Calvin, turning to walk out the door. Stopping before he walked out, he snickered, “Whatever you say, Calvin Crowninshield, if that’s your real name.”

  Shock washed over Calvin’s face, and before the man could exit the store, Calvin yelled, “Just a minute. Come back here, now!” The man stopped and turned around. He walked over to Calvin and settled both his hands inside of his pockets as to imply that he had all the time in the world. “Now tell me who you are. Don’t hold back on me!” Calvin abruptly demanded.

  The man looked away from an incensed Calvin, and around the vicinity of the shop. Impressed, the man nodded his head with approval and said “You’ve got a really nice business here for yourself. I’ve been watching this place for a while now. You have a lot of customers and you have an even more impressive bunch of new friends.”

  The man paused as he looked over at the counter, where fountain drinks were served. “Say,” said the man, “it’s getting pretty warm outside. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind making me an egg cream.”

  Growing increasingly annoyed at the man’s stall tactics, Calvin lashed out at him, “I’ll make you nothing, except sorry for coming in here and making me upset. Now I told you to tell me who you are and what you want. Well, go on!”

  Th
e man took a seat on the stool in front of the counter. “All right, but I think you’ll want to lock your door. I don’t think you want any of your customers to hear what I have to say.” Calvin took a deep breath and walked over to the front door, turned the sign over to CLOSED, then locked the door. He walked back over to the man who was still seated on the stool in front of the soda fountain. “Do you think I can get that egg cream now?” he asked.

  Calvin acquiesced to make the man’s egg cream, but he insisted the man start talking while he prepared the drink. Calvin placed himself behind the counter. As he began pouring egg yolks, cream, seltzer water, sugar and cinnamon into a saucepan, the man began to speak. “So I know you don’t know me, but I know you. Well, actually, I don’t really know you per se, but I know who you were before you met your lovely wife, Abigail.” Calvin stopped what he was doing and looked sharply at the man. The man met his gaze, and said, “Step lively, I’m very thirsty.” Calvin reluctantly returned to his task. He brought the ingredients to a warm temperature, whisking rapidly until the mixture was light and frothy. He poured the concoction into a glass and placed it in front of the man. He then gestured to the man to continue.

  The man took a healthy swig from the glass, placed it down and said “Now that is a delicious egg cream. It’s very well done, indeed!”

  “How do you know me, and more importantly, how do you know my wife?”

  The man took another sip of the egg cream and without any further hesitation; he made it clear to Calvin what the purpose of his visit was. “I know a great deal about you and your life Calvin. I also know that you wouldn’t want your new high-society chums to know what I know, or should I say what you’re hiding.”

  Calvin grew nervous. He knew exactly what the man was referring to. He didn’t know how this man had come by it, but it was clear that he had privileged information that could destroy Calvin’s reputation and social status in an instant. As the man sipped his beverage, he went about telling Calvin what he had had on him. As the man spoke, he revealed a tale that was all too true. Calvin had dreaded this day for a long time.

  Calvin didn’t come from a life of privilege and opportunity. He was born to an unwed mother and cast aside to an orphanage. By the age of thirteen, he had taken to a life of crime, stealing from inattentive travelers, church donation baskets and local merchants. Two years later, Calvin found himself serving a prison sentence for the murder of a clothing store owner. Calvin had stabbed the man during an attempted robbery. Before long, he escaped from prison and had gone on the lam.

  After being on the run for the better part of a year, Calvin had relocated to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where he had taken on a job in the bridge building industry. The owner of the construction company felt pity on the young Calvin as he could see that he was in desperate need of a job. He appeared haggard, was visibly starving and his clothes were in tatters. With no intention of handing out charity, the stern owner insisted that Calvin work hard or else he’d have no choice but to fire him.

  Calvin jumped at the opportunity to pull himself from destitution and avoid capture. He was a still a fugitive. Calvin worked very hard for his boss. He worked extremely long hours constructing what was to become the Smithfield Street Bridge in Pittsburgh. Many grueling winter months passed as the young Calvin struggled through the hardship of bridge building for honest, yet meager pay. When the impressive bridge was finished, Calvin had proved himself to the owner of the company. He had been a valuable asset to the project. He had worked harder than any of his co-workers.

  That February, a chance meeting between Calvin and the owner’s daughter, Abigail, occurred and before long the couple was secretly seeing one another. As the relationship was sure to be met with disapproval, the pair shrouded themselves in secrecy for as long as they could, that is, until the young Abigail discovered that she was pregnant. After some time had passed, Abigail insisted that they reveal their relationship and pregnancy to her parents, as she no longer wanted to hide their love and happiness.

  The pair shared the truth with her parents, and the news was met with hostility and shame. Calvin was thrown out of the house by Abigail’s father. The next day, Calvin was fired from his job. Abigail’s hopes of a happy future were dashed. After many days of crying, begging and pleading, Abigail and her mother persuaded her father to allow Calvin back into their home. A meeting was arranged to discuss the possibility of the young couple marrying and raising the baby, as a family.

  After arguing for many hours, it was decided that Abigail could marry Calvin, but there was a caveat. In order to protect the family name and their social standing in their community, a wedding was to be arranged immediately, well before Abigail began to show signs of pregnancy. If their daughter’s conception out of wedlock were to be discovered, it would have devastating effects on her father’s construction company, and the family’s social status within the community.

  There was one more condition that Calvin had to agree to before being given their daughter’s hand in marriage. He had to agree to take on a new last name, one that projected success and family wealth. Abigail’s father knew nothing about the tattered looking drifter he had hired. Calvin had shown dedication on the job, which had impressed him; however, his lack of any family was detestable. At the work site, Abigail’s father had oftentimes referred to him as, “The poor gutter rat”. Calvin had proved himself worthy of more than his birth through his hard work ethic, but the young man hardly deserved his only daughter’s hand in marriage. Abigail’s father decided if his daughter’s groom hadn’t been born into a reputable family, he would give Calvin a name that he could work to live up to. Her father recalled a time when he’d met a wealthy man from New York City when traveling by rail. The man’s last name was Crowninshield. That was the name Calvin would take on as his own, and if anyone were to ask, Calvin was to refer to himself as one of the New York Crowninshield’s. The couple would relocate to Boston, where they could begin their new life. In Boston, when needed, Calvin could connect himself to the wealthy family in Manhattan; it would project the image that their daughter had married into a respectable family.

  The couple married quietly surrounded by only her family. And in the months before the baby was born, Calvin’s time was occupied with learning a new profession. Needless to say, he couldn’t return to his job at the construction company where his cover would be blown by his former co-workers. Instead, he was trained to be a druggist by Abigail’s grandfather, who had worked in the profession. He taught Calvin the fundamentals of formulating and dispensing herbs and medicines. Before long, Calvin could pass himself off as an apothecary in Boston.

  Soon their son Oliver was born, Calvin and his young family arrived Boston, where a home was purchased for them by Abigail’s father. The small mansion was atop the hill on Higginson Street, and a storefront was secured on nearby Charles Street for Calvin to set up shop. Calvin’s home and business had been purchased for him, and once again, Calvin (now Calvin Crowninshield) had to comply with her family’s demands. Abigail’s father instructed him to not only work extremely hard to provide for his daughter and grandson, but he was to gain access to Boston’s elite society and secure business connections for his construction business. Expansion into the Boston marketplace could have a highly lucrative effect on his company.

  If Calvin failed to keep his daughter happy, couldn’t climb the social ladder after a suitable period of time, or allowed his secret to be revealed to anyone, his good fortune would be ripped away from him. Calvin’s father-in-law threatened to take away the home, the business, and ultimately, his family if he failed to live up to their agreement. Calvin agreed to his father-in-law’s terms and worked diligently to make good on his promises. Calvin was determined, as he never wanted to be destitute and alone, ever again.

  Just as Calvin had predicted, this unkempt stranger in his shop knew all about his jaded past. He listened to the man with disgust as he had revealed everything he knew about Calvin’s dark past. Aft
er all these years, he didn’t even feel like the same person. He had become Calvin Crowninshield. He had worked very hard to make the lie real. The love and devotion Calvin felt for his family was never a lie. Calvin was determined to keep them safe. It took every fiber of restraint in his body to not do harm to the man. His instinct was to throw him out of the store and pretend that the knowledge he had was untrue. But that would prove ineffective as the man did, in-fact, have accurate information that could potentially damage Calvin’s reputation, Calvin had to think of a way to keep this man quiet.

  The Calvin of the past would strike the man with a blunt object, rendering him dead and unable to ever reveal the truth. That impulsive Calvin was long gone. Calvin Crowninshield, respected new member of The Club, knew that disposing of a dead body proved to be troublesome, not to mention the severe consequences he would face if he were to get caught. Calvin’s best course of action was to hear the man out as to what exactly it was that he wanted.

  “As I said, Calvin, this is a nice business you have here. You have a steady customer base and they like spending money in your store.” He stood up, walked over to Calvin and got to the point of his visit. “Now, I know you’ll want to continue doing business with these fine people, and I’m certain that you want to keep your identity as a boulevardier intact. What I’m offering you is my silence, but it will come at a cost. A cost of a hundred-and-seventy-five dollars a month, which I will pick up from you on the first Monday of the month, right here in your shop. My first payment will be due in three days.”

  Calvin had no cards to play. He decided that the best course of action was to comply with the man’s demands. He didn’t speak; instead, he stared defeatedly at the man who looked at him with a smug expression. The mystery man concluded his conversation with Calvin, “I think you’ll want to open your store back up now. You’ll need those customers able to spend their money, now won’t you?” As he walked towards the door, he left Calvin with one final demand. “Oh yes, and I’ll also require one of your delicious egg creams, upon my visits. Good day to you, sir.”