BOAT HOUSE
H. C. Heartland
Clancy Rose brought his wife Julia to America when life in the states was at the height of grandeur. The year was 1922 and the ship they sailed on was called the Franconia.
The life of a German immigrant in America was not the same as the life where one had come from. In Germany, Clancy had worked as a university professor and was a genius in several fields of the arts. But the economy was wanting. It was 643 marks to one U.S. dollar when he arrived.
A cousin on his mother’s side had found work. This would mean leaving his former occupation and finding something of a more humble means. The job was in a northern town of America. And he would be a gardener for the owner of a mansion which was situated on the farthest point of a lake named Frost. This home was one in a series of larger homes, equipped with servants and grounds keepers. Clancy rose was very happy to find a job that enabled him to have his wife and children with him on the property. In the land of freedom, he hoped that the struggle of his children would be less than that of he and his family had endured.
They arrived in Detroit, Michigan via passage through the Great Lakes. Clancy and Julia got off of the boat after 5 months of travel from their home. The line leading into the immigration office lasted one and half hours. It was cold and wet outside, and inside the office it smelled musty from the hundreds of immigrants that had entered that very day and had traveled the long distance away from their home port. The other immigrants were also trying to make their way into the new world.
Clancy Rose brought his wife with him in hopes that they would be able to start a better life for their family. His real name was Rosenberg but it was suggested that upon arriving he ask to have it altered to Rose, a common name both in Germany but also in England and better excepted by the American people he was told. He wanted nothing to stop him and his wife from a good start. A cousin, who had settled in the Chicago area and helped them pay his fare, found him the job as a Gardner and wrote him with advice the months prior to their departure.
“It is best for us to forget our former life, Clancy. I know this is hard for you to understand, but when you step foot on American soil, it is best to become American as best you can. If you waste time dreaming about the life you used to know, you will end up bitter and unwelcomed here. It is the land of opportunity, but only for those who are willing to fight for it. And it will be a fight my dear cousin. At times you will want to give up and go home. But I trust, having the same blood as I, that the determination you feel now will sink deep inside your bones, and not be something easily forgotten.”
Clancy kept this and other letters in his travel bag, to remind him of what he had to do. The owner of the property where he was to work owned a large estate. He had only written to Clancy once informing him of what the job entailed and what would be expected of him. The property had many servants and grounds keepers on the property. Although a far cry from the work he had done up until this point, he found himself optimistic. With the state the war had left his country, he didn’t feel there would be any future left for his children. To give up his fine job for a more menial employment was something he and his wife were willing to do.
“Name?” called out a middle aged man, sporting a large mustache. Clancy twisted the sides of his own thin blonde mustache feeling that it was sadly lacking and finding himself intimidated by the man’s lack of eye contact as he stamped and wrote on a piece of paper.
“Clancy Rose and this is my wife Julia,” Clancy nervously pulled her to the front. She was still feeling queasy as she had done for the past three months on the ship, and had to excuse herself several times after being in line so that she could go throw up out back in the ship yard. Her large blue eyes were obviously hollowed from not having eaten since morning. Her curly, long hair, that had been so carefully pinned up was now falling down the sides of her face loosely. Seeing the forlorn look in her eyes, the disheveled state of her hat, and the wrinkled black dress, that must have at one time been very beautiful, the man decided to let them go through without too much questioning. Clancy picked up his and Julia’s bags and nodded at the man with a thankful smile. After months of preparation and worry, they were just steps away from being able to start their new life.
There wasn’t much room on their ship for luggage and things. Some passengers had paid extra to have crates sent over but Clancy and Julia had scraped together every last mark they had just to buy their passenger ticket. Clancy had brought his family bible that his mother had leather bound when he was born, two suits, and one pair of work clothes with boots. Julia had two work outfits, 4 dresses, 2 hats, nightwear, several medicines in case of sickness during the voyage, some photos from home, and her wedding dress, that she hoped one day might be worn by their daughter should they have one.
The next and last man that they had to speak with asked a few more questions regarding their health. There had been no serious reports of illness on the boat they came in on and so the worry for disease was minimized. Stamping Clancy’s well organized papers, he sent them off to the quarantine room where they would be checked for lice. When the last inspection on their health was approved, they walked out of the gates into the streets of Detroit and breathed what Julia called, ‘The air of freedom’ for the first time.
“Look at it Clancy,” Julia exclaimed wide eyed watching everyone moving to and fro on the busy streets not even noticing the existence of the two immigrants who were by now hoping their contact would have found them.
Clancy put down the bags he had been carrying and said confidently, tipping his black hat back on his head, “I’m sure they’ll be here any minute to pick us up. Hans was very clear when he said they would be here before we arrived and to wait just outside the gates.”
It was almost nightfall before the electric model 90 Cadillac pulled up to fetch them. An older gentleman, sporting a black hat and matching driving gear got out of the car to welcome them. “Are you Mr. Rosenberg?” he asked extending his hand.
“Yes, but it’s Mr. Rose now, we have had it changed. Are you Mr. Davidson? We were told you would be coming for us today. It is a relief; we aren’t sure where we would have spent the night had you been any later.”
“I’m terribly sorry about my tardiness. But my name is Wilson; I am Mr. Davidson’s main house servant and also driver. I left early this morning but encountered a problem with the vehicle. It’s fixed now, and if you’re ready we can begin our journey. We won’t arrive for another three hours.”
And with that introduction began Mr. and Mrs. Rose family history. Determined to leave the life they knew behind them, and to move forward, that was the most they would ever see of the surrounding area. For the rest of their lives, their days would be spent mostly in the north of the state, caring for the estate of Mr. Davidson.
Mr. Davidson’s home was a mansion of large proportions. In the salon, there were large white tiles. Even the fireplaces that were located in every room had matching tile borders framing them. There were cast iron ivy banisters and tapestries six feet tall adorning the walls that depicted scenes from the renaissance period. Large cabinets made of cherry wood and painted with gold trimming held every sort of glass one could want to drink any sort of cocktail or cordial.
Fresh plants and flowers could always been seen in the entryways along with several coat hooks for the butler to use to hang the guest coats on. There was old furniture that had been refurbished, and a bar that had stools for people to sit on as they drank. The salon was separated by arched doorways. One part was more of a smoking room, although at any time one would be served champagne from Paris France should they ask. Off this room was another room with a sitting area where lively conversations would take place either before or after dinner.
It wasn’t just the people who sported crystal Australian beads; even the lampshades had them. When the lights turned on it was like the sky was lit up on a starry night.
The outside of the house was made of brick. And the fron
t door had two large stained glass doors.
If it were cold, then the ladies would sport cute hats that covered their ears with matching gloves. In the summer time they had scarves that detracted from the low shouldered dresses that were donned with ribbons at the hips and often ended at the knees.
They would often host large dinner parties. This wasn’t difficult to do with the large kitchen which was floored with Oak hardwood that led into the smaller of the two dining rooms. The pantry room was lined with Linoleum and had an indoor water pump and a second cold box for vegetables and meats that wouldn’t be used that day.
The women would wear fur collars or cloche hats and flapper dresses that in Julia’s opinion were far too short. The waistline of their dresses dropped to their hips making them look tall and thin as they danced and pranced around the room. Julia had never seen such snuggly fitted hats and wondered why the women wore them tilted even when there was no sun. Their hair was short and styled flat to fit under their hats. The hats covered their ears which would only show the tips where diamond studded earrings would hang. Some women opted not to wear dresses, but rather wore pants. This was something even Clancy with his open mind, didn’t yet approve of. Their ankle strap button shoes were sequins and sparkled as they walked. The new world of freedom, it seemed in Clancy’s opinion was nothing more than excuse for some to spend their money wantonly.
The men would wear long evening jackets in every shade of color, blue, black white. Each jacket matching the trousers; obviously not something one wore every day but rather something they would wear when the occasion called for it. Others wore more casual ware in public which was something of the latest fashion. Leaving off their full length suits with long suit jackets for special events, they would wear shorter suit jackets for afternoon events. The suit lapels were narrow. The trousers were cuffed, making their pants to flap much like the women’s dresses. Most men had at least one pair of winged tips. But for dinner wear it was black patented leather.
The boys of the families wore short knickers pants along with slip over sweaters. And their shoes were made of canvas, which made sense when it came to washing in Julia’s opinion but didn’t make sense for people to wear shoes made of cloth when they could clearly afford leather, in Clancy’s opinion. Although most of the young men didn’t look to Clancy as if they would wear their shoes out anytime soon by having to walk or work, so he supposed it was more of a fashion statement than practical.
One part of the house was a theater equipped with a stage. There they would invite all sorts of vaudeville acts. There were fiddle players, who danced. Piano players who sang. And of course, more exotic acts from the middle east like women with tattoos who could breadth fire, or tight rope walkers who would go from one end of the stage to the other only to fall on a bed of nails should their feet slip. Sometimes the house and ground servants were allowed to watch. And watch with wonderment they did as a finer time had never been seen by their eyes or in the eyes of most of their guests, who for the most part were wealthy land owners from the nearby counties. Although the cream of their class, they too still lived in small quiet northern towns like this one, where the bustling city life had not yet infiltrated. The mansion estate provided all of the Davidson’s friends with the opportunity to see the modern things of the outside world and play their part as they would if they had lived in the bigger cities.
Some nights they would even have moving and talking pictures. The cowboy pictures were Clancy and Julia’s favorite. Ever since they had been young they had heard stories of the cowboy adventures of the old west. Every time a man in black would go to harm the bar maiden, Julia would jump and grab onto Clancy. And every time the hero would come and fend him off, Clancy would lean towards Julia and give her a kiss. The Davidson’s would usually serve hot cocoa after they played a cowboy film and there was always enough left for the servants to have some too.
If girl dancers were invited Julia didn’t prefer to go and watch as their skirts were always obscenely too short along with their haircuts. Julia still kept her hair long but only wore it down in the evenings when there was no chance that anyone would see. The rest of the day she wore it pinned up in a bun. She had two house dresses and one dress she wore on Sunday’s when they went to church. And then of course, her wedding gown, which she kept, tucked away in an older cedar chest they kept near the entry way of their home.
For garden parties, the Davidson’s would put out tents so that all their guests could nap if necessary. The party would last from morning to morning. With guests coming from all over the tri-state area and sometimes from faraway places like New York or Pittsburgh. The house was equipped with 20 bedrooms for guests and two dining rooms. Each guest bedroom had elegantly carved cedar Queen Anne dressers with matching chiffoniers. Most guests had nice homes of their own, but not to the level of the Davison mansion. They might be used to sleeping on a simple metal bed frame with two-inch posts that came with mattresses and springs. But these beds were double beds and the frames were carved wood. The sheets weren’t off cotton but silk. For those guests who may have had children, a servant would be sent during the day to stay with the children as they played with the toys that were provided. These included dolls, Teddy bears, Tinker Toys, and Kaleidoscopes. The lawn even had kids pedal cars, which Clancy always secretly wanted to try out being that he himself had never yet put his hand behind the wheel of an automobile.
When the Davidson’s hosted dance parties, the halls were filled with jazz, and music from such talents as Duke Ellington, George Gershwin, and many new artists playing music for such dances as the Charleston. Clancy and Julia could sometimes hear the music from the boat house, and would often get up and share a waltz together content with the candle light that filled their little one story home.
The mansion not only had several stories, it had a winding stair case that wound up to the three floors. It was laminated in gold and often had fake ivy painted in silver wrapped around it, making this part of the house look like it was decorated for Christmas all year round. The candelabras stood from floor to ceiling and the servants would have to light them from the top of the star case due to their height. These were only lighted on special occasions as Mr. Davidson was in constant fear of a fire on the property and after all, what was the point of having electric light if one was not going to use it.
There were a few private parts of the house such as a living room that was near Mr. Davidson’s office. The living room furniture all had coordinating pieces. There was an arm chair, reception chair, arm rocker, tabourette, bookend, and table. There was a wrought iron bridge lamp standing solitarily in the corner. The dining set for the family was eight pieces and included a 60-inch buffet, oblong extension table with a cut-cornered edge, five dinner chairs and a host chair. The seats were covered with tapestry upholstery that matched some of the chairs that were in the living room. The draperies were made of Cretonne and Silk with the exception of the kitchen, which had swinging wooden windows that would be opened each morning to let the fresh air in and the steam out.
The kitchen was equipped with the latest innovative comforts to help the servants be as efficient as possible. They had a flat iron, washing machine, vacuum cleaners and icebox. The ice was brought twice a week instead of once as most of the town’s residences. The Frigidaire was the only one in the county. Mr. Davidson had to buy it in New York when he went out on a business trip the year before. There was a 16-inch oven and broiler.
All of this was in drastic contrast to Clancy and Julia’s home at the boathouse. They did not yet have electricity but this didn’t bother them as they wouldn’t’ have been able to afford the bill. They also did not yet have a radio, but no matter, they wouldn’t have been able to afford the antenna, the speakers, and the battery. Julia’s favorite part of their home was the portable bathtub with water heater. In reality; the water heater was Clancy as he would carry the water off the stove back and forth until the tub was filled. But Julia always talked about i
t as if it were just as fine as the real water heated tub that could be found on every floor of the mansions’ property. Instead of the oil wick cooking stove that the main house had, they had a charcoal stove. But Clancy always insisted the food tasted better this way.
The Davidson’s were generous patrons. Clancy worked hard day and night, doing mostly caretaking of the property. There were servants quarters located near the house but Clancy and Julia were given the ample space connected to the boathouse near the lake on the property. Julia mostly took care of her domestic responsibilities. They were given a garden plot to grow their own fruits and vegetables. Their private area had a spring fed well and a clean outhouse for just their use. The five years that passed went by fast, when the news came that Julia was pregnant with their first child. Clancy had now earned enough to be able to afford a midwife to come to the home and help when it was time for the baby to be delivered. Everything was going just as Clancy had planned it. The baby was born in 1928, healthy and happy. Everything was as the Rosenberg’s had dreamed it, and the Rose’s were doing it.
Clancy was unaware of Mr. Davidson’s financial situation in the year 1929. When the stock market crashed, it was all over the news. But smaller towns weren’t affected. However, Clancy’s check was getting later and later with each passing month. The Davidson’s, unbeknownst to him, had been showing a decline before the crash happened, and so after the fact, six months into it, their business had gone completely under. One day Clancy came home to his wife and son after a long day tending the gardens.
Julia ran to meet him at the door, “It’s the baby, he’s very ill, and I can’t seem to bring his temperature down. I think you’re going to need to call the doctor.”
Clancy ran out of the house immediately to fetch the doctor that was, thankfully, closer to town than most towns could boast. As with every other institution in town, Mr. Davidson had worked hard to ensure that their town would be the best equipped possible. The baby was diagnosed with influenza, a childhood illness that could prove fatal in those days. The Dr. promised regular visits until the child was back to health. After each visit he would ask for his compensation. This became increasingly difficult for Clancy to furnish as he himself hadn’t been paid in months. Normally Mr. Davidson was a fair man, but as of late when Clancy would go to him to ask for his pay, he would avoid him, asking him to come back at a more convenient time, and to see the house cook, if he needed any food items or things for his home.
This worked for a while but the time came when Clancy needed his money to pay the Doctor. When the day finally came when he wasn’t able to pay Dr. Cummings, he asked him for just one more visit and he would promise to get him the money somehow. Dr. Cummings who was not known to allow people to acquire a debt, reluctantly allowed it but warningly said as he walked out the door that day, “If I don’t have my money by tomorrow I won’t be able to come back until I do. There are many other families in town who have lost children for less, there is nothing I can do about it. These days it isn’t a wonder why so many children die, but it’s a wonder how so many can live, what with the negligence of immigrant families who don’t know any better about how to properly raise a child.”
The words burned in Clancy’s ears. If his child died, and he would be made to be held accountable for it, he would never again be able to live with himself, nor his wife. He walked up to the house and forced entry into the parlor room. No one was there; he then began to walk down the hallway towards the kitchen where the cook was hovered over a large pot of boiling chicken.
“Where is he?” said Clancy with a look of gloom over his brow.
The cook, a woman in her 60’s, who had been with the family from the time she was 19, was standing in front of the Frigidaire with the door open, exposing nothing more than 2 eggs and a bowl full of carrots. She turned to Clancy and said, “What do you mean coming in here uninvited like that? Get out of here!”
Clancy seeing that he was to receive no help from the likes of her, stormed out and turned to the right of the kitchen where he knew Mr. Davidson to keep his office. He could see a light glowing inside the room signifying that he must be inside. The large doorframe was wide open. Seeing Mr. Davidson sitting there at a walnut veneer desk, which unbeknownst to Clancy had replaced a solid oak roll top desk, he firmly shut and locked the door behind him in case the cook had decided to follow.
Mr. Davidson looked up at him through his bifocal glasses with a look of quiet preservation. It was as if he knew what Clancy wanted to say before he even said it. Now feeling humble in the presence of Mr. Davidson in a part of the house he had never been before, he took his hat off his head and said softly, “Sir, I must beg for my wages that are due me. My baby is sick, and if I don’t get the Dr. the pay he needs, he won’t come back and help and my baby will die.”
The old proprietor took off his bifocals and stood up showing Clancy to a pine chair, which unbeknownst to Clancy had replaced the once large leather bound chair that sat adjacent to his desk.
“Sit down Clancy. I have something I need to tell you.”
“No, sir. I thank you for the offer, but I have no time to talk. I know that you might have to go to the bank tomorrow to get the funds but I need your word that you’ll have it.”
His voice was now getting louder as the look on Mr. Davidson’s face was not revealing to him that his wishes were going to be granted.
“I can see you’re upset Clancy and understandable so. But the truth is I cannot pay you. I haven’t been able to pay anyone for months. The crash has taken everything from me.”
Mr. Davidson’s voice broke and he sat back down at his desk putting his head in his hands not able to look up at Clancy any further. For the last few years, Mr. Davidson had been slowly selling off and replacing items in his home, selling off parts of his business that he could sell, all in hopes that the economy would begin to rise again before he had to let the last of his faithful servants go. Still holding his head in his hands, he said again, “Clancy, I am so sorry, but there is nothing I am going to be able to do for you.”
In a panic, Clancy jumped up slamming his hand on the desk, “No! That can’t be! There must be something you can do. You could sell furniture, you could do something! I need to get the medicine for my child. Surely, you can find a way?”
Knowing that the façade of a large house was keeping Clancy from understanding the depth of the situation, Mr. Davidson pulled out his books to show him. “Do you see this Clancy? I couldn’t even sell the house if I tried. I could give you everything I have, and it still wouldn’t give you the medicine you need to take care of your baby. You will do better to go back to the old world than stay here for another moment longer.”
“I have no world!” shouted Clancy at the top of his lungs, “I gave everything up to be here, to settle here. You promised me if I worked hard you would always care for me and my family. And what are you telling me I should do now? Go home and watch my son die, while you sit here in your home with all of your fancy things and tell me you have nothing?”
Mr. Davidson pulled out a paper and began writing. In between writing he would say things that Clancy couldn’t comprehend in his panic.
“I’ve never had a son, Clancy,” then he would write some more. “You’ve become very close to me these past 8 years.”
And he would scribble something out and then re-write it.
“My family came to America, much the same way you have done, in hopes that life would be better.”
He wrote for about 20 minutes and Clancy just there hoping it was something that was going to get him the money he needed. When Mr. Davidson handed him the paper, he cried out in agony, “Your home? You are signing over your home to me? That means nothing to me! You just told me it is worth nothing, I would rather rip up all the cherry wood from that cabinet and try to sell it for fire kindling than hold this piece of paper that means nothing!”
With that, he threw the piece of paper on the ground and ran out the door.
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Clancy knew he couldn’t go back to the house where Julia was waiting for him. So he went to the local ‘ice house’ in town. It consisted of a wooden shed where people could get ice. But in back was a smaller room, which no one thought the police knew about. Here one could get any number of whiskeys and local moonshines. Hoping to find some comfort. Who knows, maybe someone in town would have some work he could do; Mr. Davidson surely couldn’t begrudge him that opportunity.
Clancy wasn’t the only person who was prone to drinking that night. For some months now the only thing that Mr. Davidson could get to dull the pain of his present situation was a bottle of rye he used to keep by the crate full in his office. Now having only one bottle left he took it and gave it a few good healthy slugs. He grabbed the paper off his desk and walked down towards the boat house. As he entered he could hear the baby crying and wheezing for breadth. With every gasp of air he swallowed another gulp of the bitter drink. Slipping the paper under the doorway he walked down to wear an old rusted bench sat that he had often visited as a boy.
In the house Julia couldn’t hear much from the wind that had been blowing in and out. Despite trying to fill up the gaps in the wood the best she could, the wind off the lake always seemed to come in making the curtains move constantly and the fire on the stove stoke itself. Thinking she heard something outside, she stepped over to the window to look outside. Opening it just for a moment, a large gust of wind entered the house, lifting Mr. Davidson’s paper out of the door way and under and old wooden dresser that sat next to the window Julia was gazing out of.
Shutting the window tightly behind her, she didn’t hear the tree branch snap outside. She didn’t hear the sound of a body plunging into the water below. And she didn’t hear the footsteps of the servants searching the house the next morning, because when she awoke all she could see was her newborn baby sitting there limp in its bed. Clancy hadn’t come home that night. He wouldn’t know that the influenza epidemic would begin with the life of his son.
It was two years later when their son Richard was born. The Rose’s had moved off of the property and Clancy found work in a hardware store in town. The mansion went vacant as Mr. Davidson had disappeared and all the assets when back to the bank. All the servants were left to fend for themselves during one of the darkest times in American history. The Rose’s had heard that when the stock market crashed Mr. Davidson lost everything. In the town where they lived unemployment rose to 30%. Clancy was grateful he hadn’t come to America hoping to be a farmer as those were the people said to be suffering the most. A drought had come to make matters worse, and so the crops weren’t growing and there was no money to reseed crops for the next year. The Rose’s in all of this never thought of returning to their homeland. They had left everything behind to start a new life and word was that the depression was spreading worldwide and talk of war would soon change everything.
Julia never got to see the changes. She died of pneumonia just before Richard made four years old. Clancy did his best to raise his son. He went off to war, came back, and settled down in the same town his mother and father had meant to raise him in so many years ago.
Clancy never spoke of the old country, but often spoke of the days when the mansion was in its height of glory. Becoming nothing more than stories his father would tell him at night, Richard grew up knowing nothing of what really happened the night Mr. Davidson left this world and life on Frost Lake changed forever.
FANTASY
Write On Press Presents: The Ultimate Collection of Original Short Fiction, Volume II Page 9