Tag / 1938

by Mary James

45. SF (and Bay Areas) and the Snowy Siskiyous, Mar 21 – 28, 1938

Mon. Mar 21: Woke up just as we passed under the Golden Gate Bridge and came abreast of Alcatraz, under the Oakland Bridge and had a vista of San Francisco apartment buildings high on the hills straining to see over the heads of their neighbors. Docked at Alameda before 8 ... took the train and ferry across to S.F.

Side notes: Floating under the 10-month old Golden Gate Bridge at daybreak would be a memorable introduction to the bay.

Alcatraz was a real prison then. 

Uncle Jack came down to meet me. To town by cable car to the dentist. Dead nerve in top, aft, port tooth. Dr. Johnson opened it, let out the pus, took an x-ray.

Side note: ‘Top, aft, port tooth’ is cheeky ship terminology for ‘Top, back, left tooth’.

I’m 90% sure that the picture below is Jack Bunyan, or Uncle Jack. So add 25ish years to him. Their families were always neighbors, near Albany and in Brooklyn, and his daughter is Helen’s cousin/bestie Betty Smeallie Bunyon (aka Betty Smelly Onion). She’ll be back in the story soon.

Helen’s mother Gertrude, top left, Helen’s Uncle Jack and his wife. And some of their children. Brooklyn, 1911ish.
1870 Jackson #503 is a beautiful apartment, large living room, two bedrooms with baths, dining room, kitchen, maid's room and bath.

Side note: That apartment survives today as one unit, per the Internet. To landlord types, three bathrooms = at least three apartments. I lived in a similarly shaped place in SF, and one of the bedrooms was clearly once a dining room, complete with painted shut sliding doors. I lived in a narrow room in the back, behind the kitchen, on the first floor of what would have been a two story house, and it had its own bath, so most surely the maid’s room.

Uncle Jack and I to Pier #54 at 9:00. No boat, wharf dark, but two men said it would be in at 10:00. Back to Hotel St. Francis, to the pier again at 10:00 - boat in bay, no one of dock. Taxi $4.50. Called Mother - perfect connection - 6 min $8.20.

Side note: In today’s money, that six minute $8.20 phone call would be $185.98. An international call back then was $50 for three minutes ($1,134 in today’s dollars). So I’m going to guess this was the first time that Helen had spoken to her mother in almost six months. What might they have covered in six minutes after a six month trip around the world? Helen’s studies of celestial navigation? Her zoom up Table Mountain on the back of a motorcycle? The moonrise over the Taj Mahal? The raucous rickshaw ride through Rangoon? The looks she got stepping out in Manila wearing slacks? Sleeping out on the boat deck in the he hammock she crafted?

That might leave a little time for news about the parents, her baby sister, nine years her junior (joyfully pregnant with her 2nd child — i.e. my mother), when she’d be back home. Then, there might be a few seconds for Helen to mention a certain sailor man, younger than her baby sister by a few, whom she is now going to marry, and oh and he lives in Canada and so will she. Six minutes over and out!

And the two nighttime dock visits… I thought at first she was waiting for her hot beau Shag on that dark wharf. But no, she was waiting on her luggage. She’ll reunite with Shag soon enough though. So here is a cute picture of him during that Table Mountain ride:

Roy (Shag) Shadbolt, South Africa, 1937. See how cute?
Got my trunk off the boat and thru customs at 4:00 and the Express Co. sent for. Mrs Dreyer's niece took us riding along the Embarcadero, then thru the Presidio, past the Coit Tower, Fisherman's Wharf, Legion of Honor Memorial. Band stand, Japanese Tea Garden. Across Golden Gate Bridge and back...

Side note: Coit Tower was a baby tower, circa 1933. Here’s a fun video of SF in the era.

Wed. Mar. 23: Rain, but left for Stockton about 9:00 a.m. Lunched at Hotel Stockton & window shopped. I bot black gloves to replace the ones that mildewed on the boat. Drove around the town - out to College of the Pacific was glad to find I hadn't forgotten to stay on the right side of the road. Started the return trip at 5:30, rain most of the way, growing harder as darkness came.

Side note: Stockton is 82 miles from San Francisco, so not a wee jaunt. 

Thur. Mar. 24: Ready to go North on the bus tonight. Called Ruth. The pictures hadn't come. I relaxed, there being nothing else to do. At 3:30 Ruth called, pictures arrived. I rushed into some clothes, to Daisy's house, sorted my pictures, was home again just after six.

Side note: That is our problem in this era. We never relax because there is ALWAYS something else to do, or at least look at. Let’s do more nothing.

Fri. Mar 25: To Golden Gate Park - Nat. Hist. Museum, aquarium, aviary. To be ready to meet "Grampy" at Hotel Fairmont for cocktails. I showed pictures, talked a great deal about my travels. Hope the public won't be too bored.

Side note: I think Grampy is Uncle Jack, so still the guy with the hose:

Flatbush, Brooklyn, 1911ish
Sat. Mar 26: To Jack's office and lunch ... at the Stock Exchange Club. Drive ... thru Menlo Park, Tanforan, Burlingame, San Mateo, Palo Alto. Visited Allied Arts. To Stanford, thru the Quad to the chapel, mosaic pictures outside and inside, handsome windows.

Side note: I worked near the Stock Exchange Club building in 2006ish! 

Sun. Mar. 27: Uncle Jack ... put me on the bus for Portland at 6:45 p.m. The seats were very comfortable. I had the whole seat to myself - the driver excellent - the road smooth. It was dark before we crossed the Oakland Bridge, we stopped frequently, and there was no sleep. Tried Ovaltine at the 2:00 a.m. rest stop and after that I dozed some.

Side note: I’ve never heard such pleasant words associated with bus travel. 

Mon. Mar 28: As it began to get light we were in snow covered mountains in the Siskiyous, the pines and firs lined the road - it was gorgeous. Weathered a dozen snow storms, some rain. Vista after vista of snowy peaks - a lovely morning. By afternoon we were getting down into flat country, dull, uninteresting, drab towns, small ugly houses. Lunched there and changed buses. Reached Portland at 5:35 p.m. and Betty was at the station to meet me. So good to see her - had a grand visit in the evening.

Side note: If you have to be on a bus, that part of the country is the place to do it. Now she’s reunited with her very best friend, childhood neighbor, and cousin: Betty Bunyan (Grampy / Uncle Jack’s daughter). She is the unhappy looking older child below (the one with the striped shirt):

Next up, Shag arrives in Portland and meets the family. How will he do??

by Mary James

44. A Lap Around La La Land, California, Mar 19 – 20, 1938

The After-the-Trip Letter

After five+ months of zigzagging the planet, Helen is back on U.S. soil. 

A longshoreman's strike gave us one day instead of the five we'd expected in Los Angeles. I was taken on a mad dash across county to see everything at once: Hollywood, the Troc, the Brown Derby, Wilshire Boulevard, the University (U.C.L.A.), the oil derricks, the beaches. 

Side note: Unthinkable that a person could mad dash anywhere in Los Angeles, especially to so many places in one day. That, and they first had to get to LA from the port in San Pedro or Long Beach, and then go back to the ship (about 25 miles each way and in 1938 cars didn’t go very fast).

Dots are all the places Helen visited in and around LA, in one day, in 1938, back when traffic wasn’t hell

Here’s a cool aerial view of UCLA in 1938 and look how tiny it was! Also look at the creepy oil derricks she likely saw. Their more recent iterations are no less creepy though, as oil derricks are creepy by nature.

Day-to-Day Journal

Sat. Mar 19: At 6:00 a.m. the anchors groaned up and we went inside the breakwater. I got up and pressed some clothes before the doctor and immigration officer came aboard. Everyone keyed up at being back to U.S.A. 

At 8:30 we were piloted in to Long Beach. Ruth's husband, Mr. MaGuire's son, the Dunhams were waiting on the quay. There was a gardenia corsage for me with instructions to get in touch with Virginia Lyon.

Side note: To alert people that you would be arriving from across the sea in 1938, did you send a letter or telegram from your last stop (in this case Manila, some 20 days earlier) with a guesstimate of your arrival? Maybe the recipient could call some ship whereabouts number to find out if it was on course? Or maybe there was a ticker? The internet won’t give me a straight answer.

Had my bag packed to leave the ship when the word came around that on account of the strike we would stay only long enough to take oil, and would leave for San Francisco tonight. Gnashing of teeth! What to do? 

Drove, can I begin to say where, places whose names had become very familiar during 5 months among Californians. Santa Monica, Wilshire Blvd., Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, Beverley Hills, Ventura Blvd, saw the Troc., Grauman's, The Brown Derby, Clara Bow's "It" Café, Westwood, some Africa­-ish looking hills, an observatory. Lunched at a curb service place - chefs salad bowl and a tall glass of milk.

Side note: Perhaps the observatory she visited was the famous Griffith Park Observatory… the super-cool art deco dome, perched up in the Hollywood Hills, that had just opened three years prior?

The curb service she mentions was likely a drive-in restaurant. 

Called George Bunyan and found him home. To a dentist to have my tooth cemented back on the plate. Away again to ... marvelous food: thick steak, real vegetable soup, stewed tomato, deep dish apple pie.

Side note: After 5.5 months away, I bet even the most worldly traveler would miss some food from home, if only for the familiarity. In 1938, you could not yet sneak off to a McDonald’s whilst traveling, and then pretend you didn’t.

George Bunyan was Betty Bunyan’s (Helen’s cousin / bestie) younger brother. As children, his family and hers lived side-by-side, first near Albany, and later, in Brooklyn. George was about 8-10 years younger than Helen and Betty so likely a pest.

Below is a picture of George in his Flatbush, Brooklyn backyard, circa 1914. The picture below that is of what looks like two grandmas flanking George, Betty (scowling), Helen (about 12 years old), Mary (my adorbs grandmother), and then below that it’s the same folk, but rearranged and minus one grandma.

George Bunyan, Flatbush, Brooklyn, New York, 1912ish
Above: Grandma, George, Betty, Helen, Mary, Grandma; Below: Betty, Grandma, Helen, Mary, George


Dash back to the ship for 6 p.m. sailing, to learn it would not leave before 10: Took Shag uptown to get a haircut, came back to the "Pussywilllow", chatted with Sam. Brot oranges on board, super colossal's for 25¢ a dozen ... the man had large, jumbo, mammoth, colossal, and super colossal sizes! Stayed with Shag until sailing at 1O. Mrs. MaGuire learned her 2nd son died in Feb. Helen D. found her oldest sister dying. Sam gave me some advice.

Side note: Helen noted earlier that Mrs. MaGuire was a widow from Portland who had three sons. And one of them was there waiting for her at the dock. How horrid.

Large, jumbo, mammoth, colossal, and super colossal are a very American range of sizes. 

Sun. Mar. 20: At sea again, the 1st day, chill breeze, salt spray, California hills on our starboard side. Spent all off watch hours with Shag. Wrote 5 business letters and a long one to the family. Everyone dead as dodos, lolling around all day. Kept in the air as much as possible. Jim came over at 10:30. Anchored early in a.m. and rolled all the rest of the night. Had a toothache to help matters.

Side note: I wonder if the long letter home to family is the one I’ve been transcribing. That one doesn’t end on March 20th, but she could have added more later. Oh, I bet she was drafting a letter, like by hand. People used to do that. For college papers, too. Olden times.

Next up, Golden Gates and Stockton!

by Mary James

43. It Is A Warlike World We’re Going Back To… Eastward Ho, March 12-18, 1938

Day-to-Day Journal

Side note: Helen is floating east at 14.21 miles per hour, towards San Pedro, California, with six days of Pacific Ocean to go. This sea seems angrier than the ones before: literally, with its heaving and burbling waters; and figuratively, with warships all over South East Asian harbors. And then news from abroad is heaped with literal dread.

At 5:00 at Shag's listening to the news from London, Nazi troops are pouring into Austria, Schusnieg has resigned. France is hastening to form a new Cabinet and she and Britain have sent strong notes of protest to Germany. The insurgents have captured more villages in the Saragosa district, China is bombing Nanking. It is a warlike world we're going back to.

Side note: March 1938 was just plain crap, but if you were headed towards a country not about to be embroiled in crap — at least not on its own shores (Hawaii wasn’t a state yet when it was hit a few years later) — you were lucky. Her timing was pretty impeccable. Ships like the Silverwillow were used in the war and many, including the Silverwillow, were blown up by U-boats.

*Also, Saragosa aka Zaragoza is in Spain and this was during the Spanish Civil War, Franco, and the Aragon Offensive. Case in point about all the crap.

Heard the first radio program from the States - it was Paul Whiteman's orchestra playing "Rhapsody in Blue". We grabbed each other and shouted "home" and when realized that "Rhapsody in Blue" is the perfect theme song for us.

Side note: That is my favorite part!! I knew it was coming, because I’ve read her journal before (more than once), but in my memory, Rhapsody in Blue happened when they were docked outside Singapore watching war planes buzz about. My brain blocked out the ‘first radio program from the States…’ part, which is key to the story. The first time they hear U.S. radio in five months, and Gershwin’s 1924 mega hit Rhapsody in Blue, with all its legs-akimbo frenetic jazz-age energy, is blaring.

Katy's 73rd Birthday. She and Sam get into a hot argument at dinner. He claims the masses ought not to be raised up, that environment may work wonders - with Shag until 9:00. Sailed from Cebu some 10 T of water short. We're using distilled from sea water for washing - it's hard and horrid.

Side note: Sam is a passenger they picked up in Java (and whom I picture as Indiana Jones) and here he is arguing with a feisty senior citizen named Katy on her birthday, but I’m not sure we know which passenger is Katy. There are four female senior citizens out of eight civilian passengers. One is named Helen so she is out. At the beginning of the trip, Helen notes that one female passenger is 72 and one is 73. The 73 year old is also out. So it’s between the 72 year old and the a woman of unnamed age. Who of these would be likely to get in a fight about the rights of workers with a man hitching a ride across the Pacific in 1938:

  • The 72 year old, Mrs. Sigrist, is a woman who Helen liked early on, but about a month into the trip, said was ‘a hag out of a Dickens novel’. So maybe it was poor Sam who was being picked upon!
  • The other contender is Mrs. Cargill, who is noted as a “Prototype of the pioneer woman, has known hard work and back breaking toil – is sweet, serene, friendly”. Though she is sweet, a pioneer woman might not take sass from a young freeloader crapping on the working class.

So it’s a toss up. 

[Present location:] 
Lat. 31° 34' N 
Long. 160° 41" W
Dist. 335 mi.
Av. Speed 14.21 mph 

Sat. Mar. 12: Had good luck with Lat. And Long. Today. Capt. was pleased. Had no help and came out just like the bridge. Typed from noon to tea. Wound yarn. Looked at Shag's pictures. Want dozens of them. Talked to Jim for hours.

Side note: For someone who kept so much pertaining to this trip, there are probably only a dozen pictures total. That’s still pretty good for 1938. Here are most, if not all, of them.

[Present location:]
Lat. 31° 42' N
Long. 154° 21" W
Dist. 324 mi.
Av. Speed 13.74 mph 

Sun. Mar. 13: Finished choosing Shag's pictures, was late getting topside. Did a long. - made a mistake as usual. Lovely warm spring-like day, seas smooth, everyone out on the weather deck after lunch. Sam and I sunbathed. Typed until tea time. Started the sweater on my suit. S. and I got a bit reckless after dinner.

Side note: For all her knowledge of health and the human body, she should know that recklessness on a full stomach could cause a cramp. Throwing caution to the wind!

(I am sure the S. is Shag, even though there’s now another S. on board — Sam)

Jim has his apprentice exams today and this evening a final lesson on another subject. Sam and Kate had a blistering argument on killing senile and insane, and on capital punishment.

Side note: I’m gonna guess that the person who didn’t want the masses to have power (Sam) is also pro-execution for the ‘senile and insane’. But one cannot be sure. 

[Present location:]
Lat. 32° 02' N
Long. 147° 32" W
Dist. 348 mi.
Av. Speed 14.78 mph 

Mon. Mar. 14: Did a longitude in the a.m. Sam and I had a little hop-scotch after lunch and then a deck tennis match on 4 Hatch over the boom. Most exercise since the trip began. Figured out my declaration for the customs. Best morse I've done but much too slow yet. Sam read another chapter from his book. Had several G and V's and came to the point. Beautiful moonlight, and a following wind swung my hammock and slept out - until a shower drove me in. Shag in the depths with jealous notions.

Side note: Are G and Vs navigation terms or booze, like they would be with me?

I do not blame Shag for being jealous. Helen is with this Indiana Jones type doing hop-scotch and tennis and book reading. Who wouldn’t be jealous?? 

[Present location:]
Lat. 32° 26' N
Long. 140° 45" W
Dist. 345 mi.
Av. Speed 14.65 mph 

Tue. Mar. 15: Rolling seas, the glasses began to slip at lunch time. Did another Longitude. The sun came out at noon for a moment for a sight. Ruth castor-oiled my head. It's frightful with dandruff and not getting it clean in our distilled salt water. Threw some paper over board and was surprised to see it blow forward instead of back. Strange to have a following wind. We're blowing toward land altogether too quickly. Had boards around the table at dinner. 

Full moon, silvery seas. Shag and I made a wish — I'm sure it was the same one. Jim writing an assay for his exam. Took my pictures up to Capt to choose.

Side note: Helen is the least ‘make a wish’ person I can think of so she must be so ga ga.

[Present location:] 
Lat. 32° 49' N
Long. 134° 37" W
Dist. 336 mi.
Av. Speed 14.26 mph 

Wed. Mar. 16: Up on the bridge for my first Longitude sight, with 3 Mate, Capt. standing by the chronometer. At nav all a.m. 

A gloriously beautiful day, but cold and snappy, didn't get really warm until Sam and I had our game of deck tennis after lunch, and then found #3 Hatch warm enough for a sunning. Got my negatives ready to send for reprints. Morse after dinner. Visit with Shag. Grand radio music from the States. Still rolling.

Side note: The chronometer! Remember from the last post, a chron tells a lat.

[Present location:]
Lat. 33° 14' N
Long. 127° 25" W
Dist. 338 mi.
Av. Speed 14.35 mph 

Thru. Mar. 17: The days are too beastly short. Had good luck with my Long. and started on Azimuths. Just when it's getting exciting I have to quit. Had a washing session, then had Jim borrow me a bucket of soft water to wash my horrible hair. Finally got the soap and the castor oil out. First time in two weeks it has been free of soap.

Side note: Azimuths looks like scary graduate level math, and certainly not exciting.

Helen is constantly fighting with her hair, on ship or not. My mother (Helen’s niece) said Helen got the bad hair of the family, in Helen’s own telling, while her sister (my grandmother) got the good hair.

The news tonight was not reassuring. France is mobilizing, Germany has sent 400,000 troops to Spain, Russia is preparing to march thru Poland and aid Czeco-Slovakia if Germany moves in that direction. 

Had a thrill this afternoon when I heard a plane. Dashed out to see a pursuit job swoop across our stern, another across our bows. Last night at sea — feel blue to think it has to end. Jim and Shag do not help lift the depression, what with war talk and good-byes. Up writing letters with Capt. until midnight. 

Side note: War and bittersweet woe pervades, but there must be comfort in blowing towards peaceful shores.

[Present location:] 
Lat. 33° 43' N
Long. 120° 47" W
Dist. 333 mi.
Av. Speed 14.24 mph 

Fri. Mar 18: Found a Longitude which will probably be the last on the S-willow — and made a mistake because ship's time went on 38 min. to Pacific coast time and apparent noon was ahead of ship's noon. 

Sighted land on the port bow just after noon and the gulls are white ones today. Cold and clear, about tea time it was warm enough to sit on Hatch #3 to take a sunning. Most passengers had been cooped up in the saloon with doors closed and heat on, so I stirred them all up to get out in the air. 

Had tea outside, and Ruthie read knitting directions to me while I typed them on Sam's machine. 

Took some star sights as sunset. Visit with Jim and Shag. Dropped the pick at 9:00 with the light of San Pedro ahead. 

Well, California, what are you going to do about it.

Side note: Indy is traveling with a typewriter? This adds a new dimension. What we know about him: he was ‘acquired’ in Java. He is sporty, playing tennis and hopscotch. He likes to sunbathe. He thinks that the ‘senile and insane’ should be executed. Shag is jealous of him. He is writing a book. But who travels from continent to continent with a typewriter?? Not an Indy type, I don’t think. That would slow down the adventures.

Anyhow, we’re almost back on U.S. soil!! Just one more leg to go. But not before a grand tour of Los Angeles. Shall we?

by Mary James

41. Sextants, Mast Climbing, and Hop Scotch, The Philippines to At Sea, Mar 1 – 6, 1937

The After-the-Trip Letter

When we reached Manila we felt as though we were practically home, and the twenty days across the Pacific were the shortest ever, in spite of the extra Wednesday after we crossed the International date line. 

Side note: Twenty short days for pondering big questions. To recap: a super young smart and accomplished race-car driving hottie has asked (more than once) for her hand in marriage.

Unfortunately, we don’t know much about her feelings about all of this because, in her journal, Helen only goes into detail about every single thing except her thoughts about said hottie, so we must ponder as well.

The Day-to-Day Journal

[Present location:] 
Lat. 15° 30' N 
Long. 129° 21" E 
Dist. 297 mi.
Av. Speed 12.54 mph 

Tue. Mar. 1: Seas somewhat less turbulent, tho the Mate got one over his head on the fo'castle head this a.m. Ruth still seasick. James and I did a little Morse this a.m. first time in months.

Side note: Fo’castle is the shippy-ist ship term ever. It is also known as fo’c’s’le, which is vaguely shippy (to a Canadian-American who knows little about things).

[Present location:] 
Lat. 17° 26' N 
Long. 138° 38" E
Dist. 330 mi.
Av. Speed 13.95 mph 

Wed. Mar. 2: Took my first sight since Ceylon. Very busy with knitting, reading, ironing. Had a session with J. on navigation, and later one on Morse.

Side note: Taking a sight has to do with navigation and probably involved the sextant. So let’s look at a picture of Helen with one:

Helen and sextant, at sea, 1937 or 1938
Came from Shag's at 9 and Sam read me the first chapter of his book. On deck to sleep out and found my hammock gone. Captain had borrowed it, since his room is being painted. Stayed out 'till midnight, J. left at 11. Plenty of hills in the sea tonight.

Side note: Though there were salt water peaks and valleys heaving and collapsing around them, they were leaving from a warm place near the equator so pleasant enough for deck sleeping. 

[Present location:] 
Lat. 19° 26' N
Long. 139° 45" E
Dist. 315 mi.
Av. Speed 13.31 mph 

Thur. Mar 3: J. woke me at 6 a.m. per instruction. Back to study navigation this a.m — no enthusiasm for work. Knit some. Pouring rain at intervals, very hard after dinner. Morse — Shag. 

Have a dog as cargo, Jim and Alec have monkeys, the rabbit is forlorn.

Side note: Firstly, this schedule and work she frets over is 100% self-imposed.

Secondly, the animals: the rabbit was mentioned near the beginning of the trip as belonging to the ship’s crew (and if it was meant to lure the female civilian passengers to these men, it was doing its job). The histories behind the dog and the monkeys are unknown, but in my version they befriend the sad rabbit, have fun adventures, and live happily ever after.

[Present location:] 
Lat. 21° 07' N 
Long. 145° 23" E
Dist. 330 mi.
Av. Speed 13.97 mph  

Fri. Mar. 4: J woke me at 6 a.m, I turned out to find it was damp and gloomy, went back to bed until 8:30. By that time it had warmed up, sun up brightly, ocean gloriously blue. Sam and I walked, Capt. came along. I broached the subject of a climb up the mast, he didn't say no. 

Went up on the crosstree, our world looked very small. Sam came up. Shag and camera arrived just as I came down. Sam gave me some snaps, he took over 600 study "days work" and the fog begins to lift once more.
Taken perhaps after mast climbing. Helen is on the right. The other person is likely Miss Sparks, who is about Helen’s age, and I’m absolutely she sure has a second arm. Miss Sparks was the one lured by the rabbit. 
Think now I can get back into the study habit. Took a sight at noon. Dictated numbers for Chief's abstract — 4:00 p.m. — 5:20 p.m. Morse with Jim. Conversation with Shag. Capt. putting up my hammock when I came back. Both feeling restless — I went topside — his room is back to right, looks fresh and nice. Had some Lion Brand. To bed in the hammock but too windy, in at 12:30 a.m.

Side note: I think Lion Brand is tea. And I wish she would spill some of it! Also, since she’s taking sights again, now’s a good time for another sextant picture.

Helen and Capt, Silverwillow, 1937 or 1938

[Present location:] 
Lat. 22° 46' N 
Long. 150° 57" E
Dist. 328 mi. 
Av. Speed 13.88 mph 

Sat. Mar. 5: Sam and I felt the need of exercise. We laid out a hop-scotch on the After Deck and jumped around for half an hour. He and Shag climbed a cable, but I can't hold up my weight on one. 

Finished with a Shandy in Shag's room and it was suddenly 11:30. Studied, knit, read in p.m. Read numbers for chiefs abstract. Morse. Shag. Reading.

Side note: Swirled a shandy at Shag’s… touche.

The Chiefs Abstract is like the boat’s deed.

Here is a picture of part of the deck if you wanted to visualize the hop scotch.

Helen and crewmen (likely Shag standing), deck of the Silverwillow, 1937 or 1938. I bet she did not arrive on the ship with grubby workmen coveralls.
[Present location:] 
Lat. 24° 12' N
Long. 156° 51" E
Dist. 336 mi.
Av. Speed 14.23 mph 

Sun. Mar. 6: J. woke me at 6 but I couldn't struggle up before breakfast. Sam, Shag, Mitchell, Alec, Bill and Spectators had fun with a glorified hop-scotch game. Glorious warm sunny day. Sun bath after lunch. Jim started me on longitude this p.m.

Helped chief finish his abstracts after tea. Morse after dinner. Shag and I listened to music from Germany until 9:15. Came back to find lights out and everyone in bed. Took my book up and read with Capt, until 11:00.

Side note: Google won’t tell me how they were listening to music from Germany. A marine radio? A record player? While trying to find out, I learned that the Nazis had two designations for music: The Reich Chamber of Music (music deemed German enough by Nazis) and Degenerate Music (Jewish and Black musicians). I hope what Shag and Helen were listening to until exactly 9:15 was Degenerate Music.

by Mary James

40. Popped Questions, Contraband, and Mr. X — Opon and Manila, Philippines — Feb 24 – 28, 1938

The day-to-day journal

Be sure to read all of this one, as it has some extra juicy parts. But they’re peppered about, so don’t skip.

Thur. Feb. 24: Talked to the new passenger — been mining engineering, new mining laws giving Gov't right to confiscate mines and equipment is scaring out foreign capital. Large gold mines, very large manganese and chromate (used in autos) mines, the former shipped to Japan. 

Says Quezon asked for independence to keep his bread buttered on both sides, is now afraid his bluff will be called. As soon as U.S. moves out, Japan will move in.

Side note: The Philippines was (and is) a land of mineral richness, and grabbing hands near and far have wrestled for it. This new passenger, the mining engineer, could be one of them. She could maybe find out by mining him for information. Get it??

When you Google ‘Quezon’, a place pops up first, but in 1938, Helen and the mining engineer were discussing a person named Manuel L. Quezon, who was the first Filipino president of the commonwealth of the Philippines, and who was very popular. And because of him, there is also now a place.

And Japan did indeed ‘move in’ a few years later, as they did a lot of places in the region then, but certainly not without a fight.

Sailed about 4:30. Had no escort like the Army transport that went out at noon with a bomber circling. Took some pictures of the harbor, warships, submarines. 

A U.S. sub came up asking who we were, were going (our 'not under command' signal was up).

Side note: I envision a Nessie like submarine scope slowly breaching the waters; its face slowly turning until it stops… and then zooms in on the M.S. Silverwillow, who is guilty of having a not under command light on. Wait though, how would an underwater vessel know if an abovewater vessels’s signal was up??

I don’t have the pictures she took, but the one below is from the same time and place.

Helen in the Philippines, 1938. I have very similar shoes
Sat. Feb. 26 

Reduced speed last night to time arrival in Opon between boats, for there's only one wharf at the coconut oil refinery. Slid alongside before 8:00 a.m. Coconut oil hose into the deep tanks at once. 

Serenaded before breakfast by native boys with ukuleles — who sat and played most of the day. "Milk from contented coconuts, I suppose". Uke's from Y 1 up.

Side note: Is the ‘milk from contented coconuts…’ lyric part of their serenade?? Or a saying of some sort? The Internet is not being helpful.

Shag and I went ashore between raindrops on a picture taking expedition. Opon is a small village (3 towns on the island — Mactan where the Magellan monument stands). 

Bamboo houses, coconut trees very short, got an orange blossom (much sturdier and larger than U.S. ones) from a 7th day Adventist Mission. Pony carts, the train of small boys, "Beautiful Lady in Blue", "Maternity Center and puericulture".

Side note: Opon is now Lapu-Lapu City. 

The coconut refinery: take in 250T. copra daily, produces 170T. oil (storage tanks hold 340T.), 500 employees in 3 shifts year around. Buy whole nuts on % oil and water (by chemical tests). Climate here damp, 10% water, not millable. Kept under cover a month until lose 5% of water. Split nut, keep for month, crush twice, 2nd time to powder. Heated, oil pressed out in hydraulic press, refuse pressed into cakes, (removes extraneous matter & color) packed & shipped to Europe, cattle feed. For soap, oil mixed with 1% fuller's earth, 3% F.E. for white oil, shells for fuel.

Side note: Coconut Refinement 301 (it’s like graduate level).

After lunch Sam, Ruth and I hired us to the town wharf, took an outrigger catamaran with blue sails (25 ft. long, 10 ft. outriggers, sail with 2 booms). Sailed across the bay to Cebu in an hour. Stood on the outrigger and dangled a foot. Grand sail.

Side note: Dangling a foot off an outrigger catamaran whilst casually sailing off the Philippine’s in 1938 (at least the part before the war started) does sound grand.

To a club for some refreshment, shortly the Silverwillow arrived. First time I've seen her under way when I've not been on board. 

Sauntered around the town, saw the cross Magellan planted, the P.O., Int. Harvester Co., Shamrock Hotel, Colon St., the oldest in the Philippines, endless rows of shops with odds and ends of trash, narrow St's., Spanish architecture, iron grill work. 

Rain, but not enough to delay loading much. Copra arrives on truck in bags in slings, dumped into the hold, is removed in port by suction. The whole town smells of it. Breeds flys. Chief says they eat all the oil out of the winches.

Shag and I went walking, found a bollard to sit on and talked for hours. He proposed to me again this morning. Sign on a movie house, "Nothing Sacred" and good added shorts.

Side note: Proposed AGAIN?? She failed to mention the first time. All this news and her handwriting, in her personal journal, remains the same as everything else… all measured.

A robust paragraph about coconut refineries, followed by seven words about a marriage proposal, all the same type height, width, angle, and pen pressure. That and she mentions it calmly, right after a story about smelly winches.

The below isn’t the same text, but it shows the same consistency.

Alas though, we only have context as much as what’s in the journal, so nada about her feeeeelings about being proposed to AGAIN, so we must forge on… (but an element of romance and suspense makes for a Hollywood story, so thank you to Helen for keeping it coy).

Sun. Feb. 27: Walked ashore with Chief at 7 a.m. Very hot and glaring water and copra still loading. Lord Cochran, London, abaft us, has just been to Odessa under sealed orders. No pilot met the boat, "Mr. X" boarded when they landed, took on a cargo of guns, ammunition, planes, to Indo China, with each man receiving a bonus: Capt. $5000, Mate and Chief $4000, etc. thru each member on crew.

Side note: The USSR and China and Mr. X and guns and ammo and payouts?!?! The HMS Cochran (nee HMS Ambrose) was British. Just that year the boat went from being a passenger boat to a destroyer depot ship… one apparently up to shenanigans. Pirates??

Stopped at the race course — 8 a.m. to 6p.m. every Sunday — a dirt track in the stix, bamboo shelter for a grand stand, moth eaten looking ponies. 

Bridge of signs — natives brot out from the walls, dug their graves were shot so their bodies toppled in. The Spanish were full of tricks like that. The cemetery next to the hospital (for convenience, I suppose). 

The house on the hill started by an American, blatant and ugly, Y 30,000.

Side note: Each port stop in this story could be a case study in why colonialism is absolutely a beyond monstrous endeavor. Yet almost 100 years later it’s still in the dialog. 

Back to the ship at 10:20, and Shag got what for not being on board at 10, tho we didn't sail until after 12 — passed Opon during lunch, tho I went out in time to see the Nordmark from Berlin drawing up for some coconut oil. She's a big freighter, fine looking ship. Last look at tropical islands with sundown for tonight we go thru straits, the last land before Pedro. Toward dinner time we ran into rain and fog... and we crawled thru the night.

Side note: Pedro is San Pedro, California, which will be their next (and last) stop!

Mon. Feb. 28: Hard rain and rough seas. Capt. on the bridge all night, sleeping today. Knit and read. Stopped rain except for showers, but the jack staff wavered up and down all day and into the night. 

Jim had p.m. off, got some information about Lloyds Registry Pimsoll marks, capacity of various tanks, etc. Discovered a Wodehouse in the library and read some to Shag in the evening. During the hardest rain our canvas protector on passenger deck went up.

Side note: Ah ha! We have discovered the context to the notes and illustrations below. So it was Helen as student (that is her handwriting) and Jim as professor. But then she’s sheltering with Mr. Shag (the repeat proposer of marriage) later, during the hardest of rains.

Onwards!

by Mary James

36. War (and Peace), Dutch East Indies, 1938

The Dutch East Indies was (and now Indonesia is) made up of 17,000 islands, I’ve learned. The Dutch had been taking up space on them since 1600. Their time was almost up though, not that the local population would benefit, as they were next occupied and indentured by the Japanese. After World War II, an independent Indonesia was born, free of colonizers and occupiers.

In February 1938, while countries in every direction fortified their armies, Helen slipped into her boat deck hammock and cracked opened War and Peace.

Day-to-Day Journal

Thru. Feb. 10: Tegal 

Anchor at 5:30 a.m. — everything very damp. Wrote all a.m. Hot and muggy, no one went ashore — usual round of visits on boat deck. Started Tolstoy's "War and Peace".

Side note: What a book to be reading as war is percolating. I mentioned the Napoleonic Wars in the last post, since they were the reason the Dutch East Indies briefly had an English governor.

So Napoleon is the ‘War’ in War and Peace, but though I minored in (Russian) literature, I never read the book, and I don’t know what the ‘Peace’ is. My husband read it last year (I harbor both jealousy and pride for this feat) so I could ask him, but will instead suss that ‘Peace’ is the class of those mostly unaffected by (at least the combat and blood of) ‘War’.

Anyhow, Helen’s gonna be reading A LOT about the Napoleonic wars.

Semarang’s volcano purplish against a graying sky, at sunrise beautiful cloud masses with just the suggestion of light shining thru

It was decided we'd drive to the Borobudur, but the agent changed our minds. Said in the West monsoon it is liable to be very rough in the afternoon and we'd have to be prepared to go on to Sourabaya by train. 

Sigrist frothed at the mouth, but wouldn't risk the expense, so we went in to Semarang on the Agent's launch. The driver took us up on the hills into the residential section, charming homes, grand view out over palm, banana, acacia, flamboyant trees to the ocean.

Side note: This frothy Sigrist, mad because of a monsoon, is a 72-year-old widow whom Helen liked at first, but now does not, and she’s probably only currently traveling with her because of limited options.

I’ve mentioned that we do not learn much about the other few civilian passengers on the freight boat (eight total I believe) because Helen is focused on the ship and its men. But she does give her impression of the passengers for the first few weeks of the trip. Here are Helen’s journal notes about Sigrist:

Nov. 10 - Stolid, but spry for her age, widow, rises very early, reading Shakespeare, walks on Engnrs. deck an hour after each meal. White hair, stooped, a strong, kind face. 

Nov. 12 - has traveled much, keen, fine sense of humor, widely read. 

Dec. - stubborn, dirty, rude, determined to have own way, does not know how to play, is mad if she does not win. Am in doubt about sense of humor. The engineers have dubbed her "Old Corrugated" and it fits her like a glove. Mrs. D. calls her Queen of Sheba all the time. She's a hag out of a Dickens novel. Would rather walk a mile than spend a nickel.

Side note: The December note doesn’t even get a date. Sigrist is just a plain old pain by then. Moral: rudeness trumps your good qualities so don’t be a Karen.

Stop at a Batik factory — under a shed a man drawing designs on white cloth in pencil, freehand, two women squatting waxing the intricate patterns with a tiny brush. Bot 2 pieces of hand block work @ f2. each. 

Read all afternoon. At 5 to listen to Shag's radio and again in the evening (it rained cats and dogs), best music in months. 

I wanted to dance and Shag was inspired to draw a charcoal stage setting for it.

Side note: When I search about radios on boats in 1938, most of the hits are about War of the Worlds and how Orson Wells would scare the bejeezus out of people later that year.

But Helen and Shag would have been listening to offshore radio and I bet it sounded something like this, but all staticky. I don’t know if young men commonly learned to dance in 1938, but even if they did, I bet Helen was leading. She taught dance as a P.E. instructor, as it was part of physical education for women then. She also notes in her timeline that she attended dance seminars and conferences over the years. And dance doubled as a flirting mechanism and tripled as a way to judge men.

But back to the boat, the dance, Shag, and charcoal drawn-stage… ballroom dances were Helen’s favorite. Those tend to take up quite a bit of room, but I’m quite sure they made due, dramatically dipping in front of the chalky stage outline. Let’s remember how cute they were.

Thot I was back in Calcutta when I came along the starboard alleyway. Packed like sardines with sleeping figures — the stevedores stay on board here until the job is finished. They were sleeping on bamboo mats on the iron deck with rain pouring in on them.

Side note: We are back in the real world now, witnessing more of the ravages of colonialism.

Sat. Feb. 12: Capt. and the male passenger went ashore today, while the rest of us stayed aboard and I for one enjoyed just sitting on a beautiful green sea, reading, writing. Sat in Capt.'s new chair all a.m. The hammock was most comfortable in the p.m. 

Jim had cut off a pair of white ducks that had worn out at the knees, I did a little hemming and there are now shorts.

Side note: White Ducks still are around. They were and sometimes still are very wide leg dungarees that sailors/navy men wear and imagining them as shorts is fun.

SOERABAJA - MALANG

Sun. Feb. 13: Pilot came on at 5:20 a.m. and we were alongside by 7:30. 

On to Malang — 95 km. Distant volcanoes and mountains all around us — a resort town, Tretes, on the volcano on our right. 

Here the rice fields are in every stage, much of it like seas of green grass, some of it headed and ripe. 

Passed some carts carrying rice shocks. Teak trees blooming, creamy white plums. Miles of sugar cane, several sugar factories (work 8 mo. in the year). Kapok factories, and many coolies carrying big baskets of kapok pods. 

Numerous Durian markets, the fruit tied in banana leaves, baskets of tapioca root and several tapioca factories. An unfamiliar plant growing like tapioca which the driver said was used for color for Batik. 

Off the main road to look at two stone Buddha's and a Hindu monument. Saw ducus, pomelo, oranges, papaya growing, mango trees, first I've seen to recognize them since Burma — much smaller than African tree.

Side note: She keeps mentioning durians but does not mention the smell. All I know about durian is that they smell and are banned from Singapore markets (or were in 2015). 

To a park in the heat of the day to feed the monkeys and strikes me as being too too ridiculous — were almost overwhelmed by a dozen girls with bananas and peanuts to sell who climbed all over the car and shouted for us to buy. 

Into Malang, quite high and very new and modern, a beautiful town. Resort for people from the coast, soccer, hockey fields, tennis courts, race track.

Side note: Malang was popular among the Dutch and other Europeans so made to be all swanky.

To Palace Hotel — Dutch, tile scenes of Jaye around the dining room. Had my first ricetafel, a typical Dutch dish of the country: a soup plate of rice, followed by seventeen dishes (some places use 17 waiters), some go on a side plate but most go on the rice, then stirred up in it. Prawns, fried chicken, bamboo shoots, bean sprouts, onion, fish. All of it very hot, topped by a poached egg - delicious. For dessert avocado pear mashed with coffee extract poured over it. Must have some more one day. Coffee in the lounge — coffee extract, hot milk. During the drive back it poured a deluge — got quite wet.

Side note: The Palace Hotel is still around and looks very fancy.

In Soerabaja to a Batik shop, but found nothing I especially wanted. To a wood carving, silver, etc., store, bot nothing. Saw several things I'd like if I had money and a home. Return to ship at 5:30. Shag and I found a grassy bank in the moonlight on the canal. Saw strange boats with queer sails.

Side note: Helen is right that she doesn’t have a ‘home’ home, as she likely lives in teacher housing during the school year, and at various summer camps, where she also teaches P.E., during warm climes.

Her timeline doesn’t have an address for her between when she first goes to college 1919 and 1938 (that’s foreshadowing…) and she fully appears to have wanted it that way. She was scouting for jobs on this trip after all, which woulda meant a lot more temporary housing.

Helen would get a home soon though (I kept you in suspense after that foreshadowing!), one where she’d have a place for all her travel trinkets, and someone to admire them with.

Is that someone with her now ‘…in the moonlight on the canal’ on the grassy knoll? Read on to find out!

by Mary James

28. India, Part III: Before the Taj Mahal: The Journal, Jan 11-14, 1938

“But we just left the Taj Mahal”, you say. And you are correct. But before we move forward, first we must circle back a little.

The last post presented passages from Helen’s post-trip letter to family, all nice and curated. But remember there is also a corresponding day-to-day journal, that was for her eyes only (at least until I came along)*, with fun detail and juicy context that doesn’t always make it into the letter. I’ll pare to the best bits.

*Helen gave all of her records to family, with the idea that someone might turn it all into a story and here I am doing that; I assume that she would have (and maybe did) pluck out bits she didn’t want anyone else to see.

The Day to Day Journal

Side note: We left the journal when Helen was luxuriating in a hotel (after over two months sleeping — by choice — primarily in a homemade hammock on a boat deck) before heading inland to the Taj Mahal with the ladies from the boat. But first, Helen networks a bit.

Tue. Jan. 11: Jack Frost came for me at noon, as darling as ever, to Ballygunge to her lovely home — high ceilings, airy, comfortable. Deep chairs covered in soft turquoise, a luscious Persian rug, fine silver and lined — a lawn tennis court, two dogs: Jack & Jill.
  
Sherry, then lunch: cold baked eggs with whipped cream & catsup, fish, peas, hot grapefruit, Kashmir English walnuts, figs, stuffed dates, Turkish coffee, Greek cigarettes.

Side note: I picture Jack & Jill as a regal, but derpy, long dogs, like Borzois. And I won’t comment on the cold baked eggs with whipped cream and catsup. 

Drive with Jack about Maidan, Victoria Memorial, Fort William, cricket grounds, Gov. House, race track, 200 (Indian day, with band, hundreds listening, wrapt.) Hippo-elephants, giraffe, birds of color.

Side note: Hippo-elephant sounds like something to come out of a World’s Fair. I think she must have meant hippos and elephants, like she saw both? She’s too science-y to confuse the two (and yes I Googled whether hippo-elephants exists or have existed… no they don’t/didn’t).

To Tollygunge Club (1000 members) — race track where gentlemen jockeys hold 4 race meeting a year open to public, pays club expenses. 

The house was owned by an Indigo Planter — lovely: yellow-orange bougainvillea, enormous cannas, swim pool, golf and tennis. Had tea on the lawn, a restful spot. Thru Alipore, the other residential district (Viceroy's house) past Jodphur Club. 

To 1st Empire. Ronald Coleman and Madeleine Carroll in "The Prisoner of Zenda". Nearly everyone in evening clothes. Strange to come out from the American picture to the squalor of an Indian street.

Side note: She might be again job prospecting thru YWCA connections. This sounds like a lovely spot, tea on the manicured lawn and all, but lordy the disparity (see the last two posts).

Wed. Jan. 12: Shag and I wandered back across the Maidan for a couple of precious hours together. Sigrist came to get Dreyer's blanket while D. buys her own bedding, cheap skate! If I ever get like that!

Side note: She would get like that. Precious hours with Shaaag. She won’t see him for a whole 10 days.

Across the river to Howrah Station. Miss Skinner and party on the door of the compartment. As barren as a cattle car, narrow seats around three sides, so someone's feet are in the face of another. (R.R. & Calcutta time 24 min. different). Punjab express. We rented bedding rolls for 1 Ru. per day from Am. Ex. For 6 As. Had them delivered at station. One ladies' 2nd class compartment on each train.

To Dasashwamedh Ghat to take the boat up river first, past bathing ghats. 

Everyone bathes in the river each day, then worship under the straw umbrellas where the priests sit. Many temples and palaces with stairs leading to the water's edge. Various postures as prayers are said and rites performed. Down river, where we watched one funeral pyre and saw another corpse prepared - an emaciated middle aged man, whose widow, in white, with low-coiled shining black hair, sat wailing at the top of the steps. 

The Hindu belief: body is dust, fire, water, they bury material things, ashes burned in the fire are returned to water. On down the river past more palaces, rest houses, temples and return to the starting place.
Drive thru the city, saw the Monkey Temple, here barren women pray to Durga for fertility. If the prayer is answered, a goat is sacrificed. 

Thru narrow alleyways lined with beggars to several other temples - Siva, Goddess of Plenty, Ganesh, the Elephant God, the Sacred Bulls, Well of Knowledge, the Golden Temple whose beautiful spire must be observed from a balcony next door, so narrow are the streets. We were given garlands of the Niwari flower. Peepal tree sacred, may not be cut down.  

After lunch to Sarnath, where Buddha preached his first sermon, gained his first 5 converts. Dammekh Stupa, built in 3rd Century B. C. near Buddhist ruins more than 1000 yr. old. Modern Buddhist temple with murals of the life of Buddha done by a Japanese. 

After dinner entertained by a magician who was exceptionally good, produced a flock of live birds out of his equivalent of a hat.

Side note: ‘Equivalent of a hat…’ is a good band name, no?

Fri. Jan. 14: Tea at 5:00 a.m., left for the station in the cold gray dark at 5:30. On board the first train for Mogul Serai, our bearers carried our luggage up over the bridge to the waiting room and back again. It was 7:30 when we got away. Had an attractive young Chi-Chi girl in our compartment as far as Allerabad.

Side note: I think Chi-Chi is like shi-shi? Someone who is stylish? 

Wild monkeys, gorgeous parrots, peacocks, mud hut villages, bathing in every water hole, wells with oxen every drawing water for irrigation. 

Change trains at Tundla at 4:30 p.m., we were put in first class carriage with K.R. Dixit, professor of physics, Gujarat College, Ahmedabad, returning from the Science Congress at Calcutta, stopping over between trains to see the Taj.

Side note: Dr. K.R. Dixit wrote a paper in 1940 (two years after this trip) that appeared in the ‘Proceedings of the Indian Academy of Sciences’, which was published by Springer, which happens to be the publisher for whom I work. And we publish their conference proceedings still, almost 100 years later. La de da!

So here we bid adieu, with the ladies choo chooing along with Dr. Dixit, chewing the rag about Helen’s favorite things: science and facts.

Next time we will, again, visit the Taj Mahal, but from a different perspective.

by Mary James

27. India, Part II: Awe at the Taj Mahal: The Letter Home, Jan 1938

With ten days of shore leave at hand, Helen embarked on a complicated, multi-day side trip inland — traveling over 1,200km each way — via boat and train. She reflected upon it all quite colorfully in both the after-the-trip letter and the day-to-day journal. So much color in fact, it will take two posts.

First, the shorter after-the-trip summary…

The After-the-Trip Letter

(I mentioned in the last post about the unfortunate state of things for many in India at the time. That state of things is reflected in her observations below.)

The ship went into dry-dock in Calcutta, and while hundreds of coolies swarmed over the boat day and night, riveting, hammering, scouring, repairing, and refurbishing, the passengers had ten days "on their own”. 

Three of us, Lysol bottle in hand, braved the so-called perils of travel by train. 

“You must travel 1st class, and you MUST take a bearer (servant)", everyone said, so we went 2nd class, without bearers -- you have to take your own bedding on Indian railroads...we rented bedding rolls from American Express for one rupee ($.38) a day...the natives steal everything on the train that is not securely fastened, so the comforts thereof are negligible, if not non-existent. 

We found the trains unbelievably dirty, the sleeping accommodations thin (the berths were 2 in. thick, and the mattress...well, to be generous, maybe one-half inch...these came with the roll of bedding), the beggars persistent, the station platforms crowded with squatting Indians surrounded by their luggage, and innumerable peddlers who urged us in all the dialects of Hindustan to buy knives, bangles, brassware, guavas, betel nut (one walks the streets of India mentally holding in one's skirts, for chewing betel nut is the national pastime, and you never can tell from where he sits how far the chewer is going to spit the bright red juice whose spots give India's pavements a perpetually gory aspect). 

We wouldn't have missed the experience, and we learned to bargain, and to accept only good rupees (about half the currency is counterfeit, and you have to “ring" every coin before you take it, or they will "take" you…) and how to get off a train without tipping six porters and their uncles and their cousins and their aunts. 

Side note: She was warned! By ‘everyone’! But see… up there she says she wouldn’t have missed it.

Oh, and ‘we’ in his passage of the letter is not about Shag, but instead about her two female traveling companions on this side trip. They are both fellow civilian passengers from the boat. Which two right now I cannot recall, but they will appear in the next post in some detail.

And lastly, a public service announcement: The betel nut, like many consumables that are fun and/or frowned upon, can be addictive and harmful to the health.

In Benares we sat in wicker chairs and were rowed up the Holy Ganges River past the spectacle that is the sacred city of the Hindu (for a Hindu to die in Benares is to assure his salvation, and they come in countless thousands, pilgrims of every age, to bathe in the holy river -- pardon me while I hold my nose). It is the bath, the laundry, the medicine, the chapel, the lavatory and the crematory AND the drinking water! UGH! 

Side note: Here is a video of what she might have experienced, taken in 1937. I found some photos that aren’t all Benares, but there are great photos from India in the 1930s.

Let's escape to Agra. I'd heard so much about the Taj Mahal that I expected to be disappointed, but that evening has a page all its own in my book of memories. The setting sun shed a rosy glow on the white marble as we saw it first...then it was almost dark inside the mausoleum when we entered, and I had a momentary feeling of stepping into the past...a voice called 'Allah, Allah, Allah', and ages later the echo came back hollowly. By candle-light we examined the exquisitely carved marble screen surrounding the sarcophagi, and the wall panels inlaid with lapis-lazuli, carnelian, jade, jasper, in delicately wrought patterns. 

Side note: The Taj Mahal was built in 1631 (!) in honor of the emperor’s favorite wife. I don’t know when I thought it was built, but that is older than I expected.

And did she just know the names of those inlaid rocks and how to spell them? As a child in Colorado, I used to go to a rock and mineral shop almost weekly with my mother — each for our own reasons — and I’ve never heard of lapis-lazuli or carnelian. 

Our companion, a young Indian professor of Physics from Ahmedabad, lighted our way with a dim pocket torch up a circular staircase to the top of a minaret. We had not long to wait for the moon to cross the river. It touched the marble with a caress, softening the lines until the Taj looked like a rare old ivory carved by a master craftsman. 

In Delhi we saw acres of marble buildings inlaid with semi-precious stones, built by the Mogul Emperors five hundred years ago. 

Our eyes stood out on stems and our chins rested on our chests. It was so gorgeous we lost the power to react to it. 

Side note: We’ll talk more about this young professor in the next post, but for context, at some point her little group ends up in First Class on the train and there she meets a young professor who is headed to the same place they’re going. And the four of them then travel to the Taj Mahal together.

Another side note: The bit about the phrase, ‘Our eyes stood out on stems…’ evokes old cartoons, no? And it’s fitting. The art and architectures that humans build for their myriad gods are some of the most eyes-on-stems and chin-on-chest inducing of any, even for non-believers.

“Our eyes stood out on stems and our chins rested on our chests. It was so gorgeous we lost the power to react to it.”

The trip back to Calcutta is a volume in itself, so don't get me started on our compartment mates with their 14 suitcases, the garden flowers, the lunch hamper, the tepees, tennis rackets, basket of vegetables, raincoats, birdcage and catch terrier. 

Side note: Tepees?

by Mary James

25. Dr. Jo, and a Frolic from 8am to the P.P.M., Madras, India, Jan 5, 1938

The After the Trip Letter

We saw the hills of India for hours before we came alongside at Madras. There was only one white person, on the quay, and she was meeting me! Jo and I had  parted in New York four months before, saying, "See you in India in January!" and here we actually were! I had to pinch myself! We had a most delightful evening with mutual friends (we had been graduate students together) who teach in the college at Saidapet. 

And that aggravating boat WOULD sail that same night...cargo first, last, and whenever.

Side note: Only with kismet could two people plan to meet up on a dock several months into the future and then actually do it, right?? Nope. They organized it somehow, even while they were both be-bopping about to different parts of the world, in 1938.

And who is this ‘Jo’, you ask?! Stay tuned!

(For historical context: Madras is now Chennai and Saidapet is and was a neighborhood there.)

The Day to Day Journal

Side note: The journal starts the day before she gets to Madras and to her friend Jo. For here we start while she’s cruising alongside the lovely and lush Ceylon coast…

[Present location:] Lat. 6° 41' N

Tue. Jan. 4: Saw porpoises leaping, many ships visible, sails along the East Coast of Ceylon, mountainous. 

Took a Lat. And figured our course by dead reckoning.

1 anna - 2 ½ cents (round coin, square edge) 
1/12 anna = pie (copper)
Wed. Jan. 5: Study and the traverse tables are about to get me down. Saw India this afternoon. Could see Madras by 4:00 p.m. 

The jetty has a tricky double S curve, I thot my eyes deceived me but the glass confirmed that Jo Rathbone was standing on the quay. It seemed eons before the gangplank went down and our passports stamped — marvelous to see her. Jo's driver got a car for the other passengers and it turned out that Katy came with us, to be dropped at the Theosophical Society H.Q., drove thru spacious grounds to a beautiful building. 

Had a panoramic impression of the city as we drove thru at sunset. Stopped at the Cannemora Hotel, very swank European, many of the business buildings have domes and minarets. Everywhere flags and bunting are draped for the visit of the Viceroy next week. The members of the Indian Congress are not to be present at the reception and all Europeans are commanded to be on hand.

Side note: Jo, mentioned in the letter above, was the one and only Dr. Josephine Rathbone. In her storied career, she worked to advance physical and physical education therapy, she wrote textbooks about health; she ran a relaxation clinic, and at Columbia was into yoga waaaay before it was made hip in the west. After then, she was co-founder of what would become American College of Sports Medicine (ACSM) and was VP of American Physical Therapy Association.

How do I suddenly know so much about Helen’s friend Jo? I was fortunate enough to find an informative article, all about Dr. Rathbone, and I reached out to its author, the very helpful Dr. Carol Ewing Garber. She was kind enough to send over an autobiography Dr. Rathbone wrote, and what a life. Worth a checking out.

Herd of water buffalo with enormous horns spreading six ft, white oxen with tall horns drawing carts quite different from those in Ceylon. Indian huts rectangular, with high pointed roofs, palm trees against a red sky. 

Not so many people as I expected. New housing development, very square modernistic a la Germany. Wide main streets. (25 Catholic schools for Indians in Madras) 

Several cars at Bucks, met several groups just leaving. Mr. Buck remembered me — a charming house, paneled walls, book cases built in, every room has French doors leading out — on 2nd floor to a balcony, bedroom's have sleeping porches. The whole house is open and airy, very unusual, most livable. A young English politician was there, an Indian Rec. Director, handsome, and a Sikh, turban, beard, small clothes, small sword, bracelet - the 5 requirements of the Sikh religion.

Side note: Mr. Buck is also known as Mr. Harry Crowe Buck. He’d founded the YMCA College of Physical Education in Madras over a decade earlier. How fun.

Reading this all again, now more in slow motion…. if Helen wasn’t distracted by a certain engineer on this boat trip, would she be happily bound for one of those YMCAs?

She would, a few decades after this meet up in India, work for the YWCA in Canada, so the answer is yes, but it might have been more immediate. Seems the physical education world back then stayed tight. 

Tall, fine looking, large sparkling eyes, graceful hands. 

Finally, all were shooed away, and we five sat at dinner at 8 p.m. Larkspur and zinnias, fresh fruit, soup in lacquer bowls, chops, fresh peas, grilled tomato, frozen prune whip, celery and raw carrots, grapes from U.S. 

Mrs. B. has made a lovely lawn and garden from a rubbish dump. Came back for 10p.m. sailing after an unforgettable evening - found we are staying until morning. 

Shag and I walked on the jetty. Many stars, luminous clouds. We found happiness in one another. Coffee and toast in the mess room at 3 a.m. Very cool evening, no heat all day.

Side notes: 1) prune whip; 2) Mrs. B is composting! Also, Mrs. B = Mrs. Marie Buck, who taught P.E. and published a volume entitled “A Programme of Physical Education for Girls’ Schools in India”, mentioned here; 3) and last but not least, after an unforgettable evening ashore schmoozing with sparkly eyed men, Helen finds happiness with Shag there on the jetty, stars and clouds just so. Topped off with coffee and toast at THREE in the A.M.

Hearts are just brimming, it seems. This might be controversial to say, but, just at this port, I wonder if the brimming isn’t just for Shag, but also for the potential of far flung job opportunities. Meeting up with professional associates around the world, planned in advance, seems strategic.

And maybe Shag senses this? No one can know for sure. But one could suspect some tug of war with choices.

On these pages she seems to speak in code… like in case someone found it. The text is tiny, the names abbreviated, language often coy. But she definitely wasn’t averse to family (aka me, as it were) disseminating it, as she gave it to us with her blessing, but more like she didn’t want people on the boat sneaking it. Who can blame her? It’s a small boat with the same people on it more or less for five months. There’s intrigue happening. Who wouldn’t get a bit paranoid or revengeful?

Thu. Jan. 6: Woke at 6, saw a blazing red sunrise, standby at 6:40 - full away by 7. The harbor pilot was 1st Mate on the Palm, under Capt. Tulloch. Dozens of fishing boats — proas with slender lines, a turned up bow, rowed by shovel-shaped oars. "Day's work" is driving me nuts. 

Traverse tables still a mystery. Took a sight, got the same as bridge, found the next course and distance. P.m. and p.p.m. with S.

Side note: P.m and p.p.m indeed.

After much Googling, I found that ‘Day’s Work’ is guidance about ship navigation and dead reckoning.