I went to the Caterpillar dealer in St. John’s and they have provided me with quotes for larger pumps, compressors, and generators. This is essential if we are to support the new mill and fill orders. We are simply drawing too much electricity now to rely on the hydro power from Little St. Lawrence. I’m expecting a visit any day now to let me know that we are consuming too much of the available electricity for the town and region.
Congratulations on finding potential buyers for the mine. Let me know if you can revise your travel plans for mid July.
Best regards,
Don
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
May 25, 1934
Dear Mom and Pop, Howard, Edith, and King,
I have to give King special mention as I thought about him so much today.
It is a beautiful spring day and I walked out to Blue Beach with some friends and then back around the harbor with them to the church to light a candle for someone sick in the community.
The town feels like a different place as the warm air teases people out of their homes and onto the front porch, into their gardens, or down to the landwash. Children are everywhere as the possibility of summer finally hits our little town. There is a place where everyone goes to play soccer, a sport that delights players and fans alike, and it has sprung alive with the warmer weather.
It would’ve been a perfect day to take King on his lead to prance about the place in his princely way. Trouble is he would be alone as there’re almost no dogs here. Having a pet would be such an afterthought in a place where everyone is struggling. That’s not to say there aren’t animals. There are cows on every path, pigs along my usual walk, oxen, goats and chickens that all seem to know where they belong as it gets dark.
There’s also a peculiar breed of pony, like a Shetland, that is put to good use about the place. It stands about four hands high and is a tough and strong little beast. They seem to require much less food and care so they fit in perfectly.
Our seed flats are coming along nicely although we’ve been warned not to plant anything outside until the risk of frost is over. We have a swell garden space and right alongside of it runs a little brook. Don and I can smell that mint growing already.
The ice is off the ponds and the kids in town are out after the trout like cats after mice. The number of trout caught is counted in dozens and it is nothing to have a young fellow come to the door and offer us twelve dozen brook trout for ten cents. They also have land locked salmon, which Don loves. The kids just land them with their poles and Don is so intrigued he has borrowed a pole from the priest and plans to go fishing next Sunday with the boys.
So please tell King I miss him terribly, and you all too of course. Don teases me that when you next see me I will be jolly fat and unrecognizable. We will see about that.
Love to you all,
Urla
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
May 26, 1934
Dear Mom and Pop,
My first letter out in a while as we have been working hard to get another order on the wharf, this time destined for Phila. It ought to make Siebert cheerful and hopefully more benevolent. We are now getting $16 a ton, and the shipment will be over 1,000 tons.
Every letter from Siebert asks for more ore now. Since the fluorspar business is an indicator of the steel business I figured this meant the worst of the Depression is behind you. I’m sorry to hear, Pop, that is has not translated into the lamp business. I understand the decision to sell Scout, although it’s a heart breaker for me. That’s the boat that made me fall in love with sailing and I can’t imagine that she won’t be there for me always. But I understand that protecting the house comes first.
In mid-summer we will have a group from the States to look over Siebert’s property. You might remember Fred Foote who grew up near Greenwood. He has a group interested in buying the operation and I intend to push for every nickel I can get if they want me to stay on. So I hope that no one makes an offer on Scout until I can afford to buy it myself.
In the meantime, have Howard go over it and clean it up so that it shines. Make sure the bilges are clean and the engine in good working order. Any speed tests should be done without the dink as she performs better that way.
Spring is here and the levels are free of snow but all the hills are still capped with ice and snow. We are having the annual easterly winds and believe me, they are winds. It has blown for two weeks from the east, bringing everything from snow, fog, rain and sunshine. When it does deal up a clear day it sure is beautiful. In the evenings we get a long soulful sunset and the whole place takes on a purple glow, bending the pink from the granite against the blue from the sea.
All the fishermen in town are getting their gear and fishnets in order and lots of them have reserved their berths on the Bankers already. You can smell tar, pitch, and oakum all over the place and after the long winter everything has sprung to life. Fences are being fixed up, nets mended, gardens dug, and wells cleaned.
The house is shaping up well and Urla is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. It’s quite a change from being spoiled at the boarding house and quite a change from what she must have imagined. Believe me, keeping house here is not all skittles and beer. Urla makes all our own bread, and everything else that we eat. We carry our own water and wood like all the rest.
Right now the harbor is flooded with small trading schooners that come in with everything your heart could desire. We just bought half a cord of dry wood for a dollar and a half. We have to wait for the bigger boats to get vegetables but fresh meat is available any time someone butchers. We had veal the other day at fourteen cents a pound. All meat is the same price, and there is no such thing as ordering a steak or rib roast. You get the meat, and if you’re lucky you get steaks and if you’re not you get a chewing good time.
Of course there’s plenty of fresh fish, especially flounder. They spear them with pitchforks right in front of our house and they are not a popular dish here so I have all I could want. Here the only fish is the mighty cod.
On Saturday night we went to a party and what a party it was. Nothing starts here until ten o’clock at night and winds up the same hour the next morning. This was a birthday party for a neighbor and I think they spent the last two months making cake for it. We played games and danced, and I got everyone into Simon Says and Thumbs-Up—games never heard of in this part of the world.
The party started off with French liqueurs. Then came games followed by round dances, and more games followed by square dances, then cake and coffee (real coffee too). The dances and games were eventually followed by ice cream and more cake, before all hands gathered round the piano and sang the old favorites. It all ended with “God Save the King” and we started for home. We had such a long walk that we didn’t get home until 5 a.m. (the party was next door).
It was a lot of fun and we both feel that if the rest of this world would return to the simple easy times of games and dances we would all be better off. I don’t think anyone here has ever heard of a nervous breakdown or kindred ills.
That’s it for now I’m afraid. I have to go get more kelp for the box we keep the lobsters in. At ten cents apiece I wouldn’t want any of them to die.
Love to you all,
Donald
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
June 12, 1934
Dear Mother and Dad,
Thank you so much for the seed packets. I will start them right after I plant out our first crop of seedlings. I am committed to forcing what I can from this rocky soil. There are very few if any planted flowers around town, so the zinnias and petunias should draw crowds. Right now there isn’t much of anything as it is still cool and the fog is relentless. Here it is called “capelin weather,” after these small fish that roll in on the rocky beaches to spawn.
Don and I noticed groups walking past our house, headed out to Blue Beach, with buckets and containers of all kinds. I thought they were harvesting kelp for their gardens as they tend to do here but b
ack they would come with buckets overflowing with tiny fish. If the wind was southerly you could smell them before you saw them through the fog!
Once we found out they were good for the garden, Don and I joined in the fun. At first, the site of all these fish struggling on the rocks was a little unsettling but then I discovered that females were laying their eggs in the rocks where they become fertilized by the males and die anyway. Kids are squealing and gathering them for their parents, some are even eating the eggs straight out of the females, but most bring them home to fry up and to fertilize their gardens. Most importantly, it is a sign that the codfish will follow and summer is coming.
I’m feeling very well and full of energy. Don and I went to the dance in the church hall last night and we had a wonderful time. The hall is just above the two-room school, which is next to the church, and forms the activity and power center of town. This also includes the soccer field. Apparently, the only excuse accepted by the priest for missing mass is if you were playing soccer. Don has become quite friendly with the priest, which is highly surprising given his fondness for religion! But Father Thorne is an avid cribbage player, having learned when he was studying in Ireland. I have also discovered that Father Thorne had the first radio in St. Lawrence so Don has been catching up on Amos and Andy when I thought he was furthering his religious education.
I am happy to see him have some time off as he is working so hard on this mine. I am so proud of what he has achieved. If you could see those oxen pulling wagons of ore to the wharf you would marvel that any of this could happen. We celebrated with French brandy when the first boatload left the harbor. I haven’t been very happy with Walter Siebert but I will say he has worked magic in finding customers for the fluorspar. Don has a good crew of men now and they seem to like and respect him.
Ivah has written me about your summer plans at the Jersey shore and I’m so pleased Daddy will finally close the pharmacy for a few weeks and take a break.
Can I be a terrible nag and remind you about some wool for baby clothes? Don’t forget to make up a false receipt for very little so the customs officer doesn’t make me pay.
That’s all from our foggy end of the world.
Love,
Urla
St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
Room 1116, 120 Broadway
New York 5, NY
June 10, 1934
Dear Donald,
Happy to report that we are filling the orders as required and I’m working on some new contacts.
I’ve arranged with the Newpont boys to come in early July as you suggested. Fred has indicated that he was thrilled to keep you on there, and probably as manager since I suspect that Doc Smith will leave when I do. But of course the choice is yours to return to the U.S. as well.
I would hope to get five days of salmon fishing while I’m in that neck of the woods. Would you be able to arrange accommodation?
I’ll wait to hear from you before confirming my travel arrangements.
Best regards,
Walter
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
June 28, 1934
Dear Dorothy,
How wonderful to get your news yesterday. We are all bursting with joy at the arrival of Edward Thomas and that you and baby are doing fine. I can hardly wait to see you both. Mother says it was all without incident, but I never trust her Scottish stoicism to accurately describe anything! I hope, darling Sis, that is closer to the truth than not.
I hope your doctor visits were a little easier than mine. Last week I joined the coastal boat in its run along the coast of this peninsula to the town of Grand Bank where there is a small hospital and a doctor. I was nervous about climbing back on a boat, my first since we arrived. Mrs. G brought me down and before I boarded I could smell cabbage coming from the stack. That almost finished me, but Mrs. G gave me a squeeze and on I went. I’m determined not to look so weak in front of these strong women.
Don had arranged for someone to meet me and take me to the hospital and everything went well from there. The doctor says I’m healthy as a horse or maybe it was a house or a mouse. He is straight from Ireland so I am mostly taking my cue from how quickly he dismissed me. Then I was treated to pea soup, fresh bread and butter, and delivered back to the Argyle making its way to St. Lawrence. Thank God no one was cooking cabbage on the return.
Don was expecting a more elaborate report from the doctor, even a written one, but we have to remember having a baby around here is as ordinary as hanging out the wash. Plus the hospital is busy with so many cases of tuberculosis. This little country has a very high rate of what they call the white plague, or sometimes “consumption.” There is a big campaign to inoculate young ones, but I’m not sure they have control on things yet.
Anyway, I don’t want to taint this joyous occasion with any news of sickness. We are celebrating after all and Don and I could not be happier for you and Bill. We can’t wait to join you in the world of babies and no sleep.
Lots of love to you, Dorothy, and to baby Edward.
Love,
Urla
Oak Beach, Long Island
June 25, 1934
Dear Donald,
Well as you can tell we have moved down to the beach. Opening it up after all winter was quite a chore and your father seems more concerned over his Jeep than helping with musty rugs and furniture. But the flag is flying high and we are at home. Most of the families have moved down by now so we’ve enjoyed catching up after all winter.
It’s been quite hot already and I’ve been swimming every morning and evening to keep cool. I hope by now your dreadful fog has lifted and you are getting some warmth on your winter bones. Everyone here thinks you have gone to Greenland and I haven’t bothered to correct them. It isn’t that far away anyway, is it?
I’m hoping the change brings Pop out of the doldrums. He keeps going on about Roosevelt’s New Deal and will it finally translate into demand for his wrought-iron products. I’m afraid ARHEPO Gifts has not had a great year. I was hoping you could help us out, darling, by paying the property taxes on the beach house this year? They are due at the end of July and we could simply take it out of your account in Nutley. Let me know if this is okay with you.
Wish you could join me for a swim this evening. I see Robert Goldman from your engineering class from time to time. He tells me he has a good job in the city supervising some new transit system. Certainly there are more jobs on offer than when you left.
I must go and find your father for a sundown drink. Please give my love to Urla.
Love,
Mother
St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
July 12, 1934
Dear Howard,
How wonderful to get your letter on the last mail boat. Mom and Pop have kept me up to date with your job hunt. You have to remember that being a new graduate in a tough economy is a mighty challenge, so don’t despair. Someone very soon will be looking for a business graduate from Rutgers with a handsome older brother. Keep a good stiff upper lip, kid, and don’t let the “come back next week” boys get you.
Yes, keeping house in this burg is great, and one never has any spare time on their hands to go motoring or anything. It is a case of get up with the birds, start the fire, carry the buckets of water, take out the ashes, rebuild the fire again, as it is sure to go out while you were doing the other chores, and then maybe you eat breakfast.
Spent quite a while today and built a chicken coop. Have bought one hen and I’m going to tie it up in the coop and leave the door open. We use the hen as sort of a decoy, and try and get some more. There is a law here that all hens have to be yarded now that the gardens are sprouting. But some of my neighbors haven’t heard of the law, heh heh heh.
Two rooms in the house are shared by an old lady and her sons. It is quite separate from us, but it brings me no end of entertainment. The old lady is half blind (one eye) and can’t hear a thing. The boys come into her
place at night and make funny noises and she thinks it’s the radio. In the morning, she comes to tell us how much she enjoys the programs on our radio when of course we haven’t had the radio on. She is intriguing though: she is the center of the web of communications in St. Lawrence although she never steps outside her house. They have one hen, and she has it trained to come in the back door and lay its daily egg in the lid of an old trunk. It saves her looking for the eggs that she can’t see, but her son doesn’t like the idea of leaving the door open, and so they argue over it all the time.
Our neighbor on the other side of the fence is a cousin to the above one and can neither see nor hear. The trucks have more trouble with her than they do with the cows on the road. She refuses to use her own lane as it goes out past her other neighbor who she doesn’t speak to, and so she insists upon using our lane. The worst of it was that her husband built a nice picket fence between our places, and every day she comes out and pulls it down, and every afternoon her husband rebuilds it, and not without quite a few misgivings, and believe me, Newfoundland misgivings are ones that invoke all the deities I ever heard of.
Around 5:00 pm every day, all of these characters forget their individual grievances and arguments and come into our kitchen to gather around the radio to hear a broadcast out of St. John’s called The Doyle Bulletin. This is an experience not to be missed. A local purveyor of medicines and confectionary provides the radio hour. He uses the hour to advertise but also to promote songs from Newfoundland. Included in the broadcast are announcements about individuals, so people gather around just to catch up on the news of someone who has been sick or traveling or whatever. “Mr. Percy Cavanaugh of Grate’s Cove would like to advise his family that his operation went well but he needs some clean pajamas.” “Mrs. Effie Walsh advises her sister that the train is late leaving Lewisporte but to keep supper for her anyway.”
Was out on a trading schooner to bargain with a captain who came down from Prince Edward Island with livestock. I want to buy a pig from him, but he wanted $6 and I can get them in Saint Pierre for $3. I am going to build a pen way up in the meadow, and the fellow next door is going to feed him. Please write us and suggest a name for it. I’m sure he will be a little black one, sex unknown, and if you can tell me how to tell the sexes apart please whisper it to me in your next letter.
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