by Mary James

15. Lat. 16″ 26′ N; Long. 69° 31″ W; Dist. 326 mi.; Av. Speed 13.78 mph, ie At Sea, Nov. 14-21, 1937

Doesn’t 13.78 mph sound SLOW?? Let’s see… if one went forward 24-hours a day at 13.78 mph, that is going 330ish miles a day. And it was 23 days from NOLA to Cape Town. That comes to 7,590 miles, which is pretty much the exact milage between the two ports! Who knew??

So chug chug, little freight boat, you’re just on time (if my math is right).

To refresh, we’re about four days into a five-month ’round-the-world trip. We are currently snaking through the Caribbean Isles, soon to be spit into the Atlantic, where we will then see no land for 20 days. But we will see a lot of sea.

The journal:

While Helen is busy in her Navigation 101 class, she takes detailed notes – lists, definitions, illustrations, scribbles, and diagrams (some not in her handwriting!). I will scatter those around.

Like now:

Intel she is gleaning from the ‘prentices, such as Plimsoll Marks (ie ship load lines)
7:30 p.m. — to Engr. Deck for first lesson in telegraphy. All 'prentices there, wireless op., Shad. 

Shad, Foster and I talked until 10. Shad is interesting — he & Foster want to take a diesel auto trip from Capetown to Cairo. For conversation they asked me to go. Wonderful pipe dream. 

Capt. begins to call me Helen.

Side note: The telegraphy lesson is likely Morse Code. This was definitely on her ‘prentice wish list.

And most importantly… drum rollll… IT’S SHAD. Shad = Roy (Shadbolt), sometimes also referred to as Shag. She seems intrigued by him, no?

I thought at first ‘Foster’ was a job title on the ship. Like a deckhand or something. The Captain hollers, “You there, Foster, fetch me my telescope post haste!!”, or something. But no, Foster is a person.

Roy and Foster invite Helen on a 10,000 kilometer roadtrip, from South Africa to Egypt, in a diesel car (a brand new type of car in 1937 that takes a different FUEL than other cars, so how do they get the gas? So many questions). Ten thousand kilometers is almost three times as long as the United States. And in 1937, it would probably take at least a month, if not longer. And where would they sleep. Hm… Flirting alert!

The Captain was likely calling her Miss. Skinner before. How informal for a ship Captain, who are typically so upright and salute-y. Hours of radio soaps and variety shows with someone nice, smart, and cute will do that!

Capt. reads my character in handwriting "Tact, diplomacy, modest, not forceful, religious tendency, non-informative, hopeful, ambitious, gentle, cautious, head rules emotions."

Side note: Most of those things, yes, but religious tendency, not so much. And what is non-informative? Like coy? Whatever it means, flirting alert!

Sun. Nov. 14: Today I am a passenger — no lessons. Large dinner — fried oysters, chicken, asparagus, potatoes browned, celery, olives, tomato, orange ice & Nabisco, walnuts. Listened to Jack Benny on Capt.'s radio. Foster on the bridge from 12 - 2.

Side note: I leave in some of the food lists because her relaying mundane meals in the midst of daily wonder and so many once in a lifetime experiences is fun. One’s gotta eat.

Jack Benny, at the time, was slinging witty banter and Jello to all corners of the world. And which 12-2 is she with Foster?? The day time or nighttime one. I think the latter since she mentions him last. Hm.

Mon. Nov. 15: 

10 — 11:30 Light begins to dawn on a few matters. Talked to Shad. Worked on my hammock, annoying the passengers with my hammering. Sun bath on the monkey deck. 

7:30 — 9 with Shad, hearing in outline, a sketch of his life.  

10:30 — 12:30 — with Jimmie. They are interesting youngsters. We can all learn a lot from each other. A most gloriously beautiful moonlight night, clear as crystal. Clocks have been advanced 20 min. each day. The European members of the crew are quite a lot, I gather. Know their jobs, but nothing else. Wine, women, smut fill their days and nights. A sensitive lad like Shad, with beauty in his heart and a keen inquiring mind is like a man in a diving helmet at the bottom of the sea, with an octopus just about to close a tentacle on his slender air line. Jamie with a brain, but so young and untouched by the world. What will this apprenticeship leave them? Have been asked to teach Jimmie to dance.

Side note: There is a lot to unpack there. It’s all one day, which starts off a complicated… ‘Light begins to dawn on a few matters’… that must be about Shad and has an undertone of trouble, no? They have had a talk.

Perhaps because of this talk, she hammers forcefully on things and bothers fellow passengers.

Then she rests.

And Shad’s life, from what I know at that point involved art, culture, travel, engineering, a doting family. So even at 23, he had a lot of stories. Did I mention before he was 23? And that she was 34?

A sensitive lad like Shad, with beauty in his heart and a keen inquiring mind is like a man in a diving helmet at the bottom of the sea, with an octopus just about to close a tentacle on his slender air line.

And if she mentioned Europeans before, I didn’t notice it. These particular Europeans I picture a pale, freckled, red-faced hooligans.

But Shad. My goodness indeed. He’s an artsy man. An intellectual man. A funny man. A manly man. And super cute and single. What?! 

Nov. 16: Capt. received a radiogram this am. saying a son was born on Nov. 12, his second. Chief has a child a year old he hasn't seen. 1st Mate has one 2 1/2  he hasn't seen.

Side note: Most of the crew is married it seems. Despite all these men flirting with Helen, these aren’t necessarily the type of men who hoot at ladies from the rafters. These are not party boats, everyone is working, and they probably were just not used to a passenger like Helen on board. So she got a lot of attention. And she loved to flirt. No one is saying anything happened, but it’s easy to read into things. Throughout though, she speaks fondly of almost everyone (except a few civilian passengers, who just seemed annoying) so I hope all happenings were above board, so to speak.

Problem #1: Roy precipitated tonight. Vessel burns 37 long tons (2240 lb.) of oil daily. Leak in ammonia pipe at 4:00 a.m., Roy dashed up for the gas masks.

Side note: Roy precipitated? Like he did something bad? She is with Roy at 4am to see this rushing??

Tue. Nov. 16: Barbados on the port bow early this a.m. Finished setting the grommets in the hammock. Found today's navigation problems came very much more easily. Began Emil Ludwig's "The Nile", the description of the source is striking, vivid. Roy and I stood on the after deck in the moonlight. Up at 3:30 to see the silver lining of the clouds where the moon illuminates them from behind. 

Wed. Nov. 17: Jim showed me how to crown and splice a rope — for the hammock. At this rate it will be done by Christmas. Jim gave me a lesson in Morse until he went on the bridge at 8. Talked to Shad until 9. Talked to Jim 11 — 12:30. Full moon, but storm clouds all around the horizon. 

Thru. Nov. 18: Found a Latitude. Capt. says I may shoot the sun tomorrow. Finished splicing the rope for the hammock. Life boats are going to be painted, began taking out the rig today. 7:15 - 9 - with Shad. Coffee at 4 a.m. with Jim.

Side note: Sometimes I’ll just shut up and let her talk. But here I must interject. I wasn’t going to complicate things with too many people, but now this ‘Jim’ keeps being mentioned and I don’t remember him from the last time I read through this. What I know of him thus far: he is one of the ‘youngsters’ and probably a ‘prentice. She was asked to teach him to dance. She seems to be with him when she’s not with the Captain or Roy or Foster. So let’s watch out for him going forward.

Fri. Nov. 19: Shad and I took pictures of the boat this morning, starting aft. Worked some problems of Lat. And then at noon, I had my first look thru a sextant, and figured the Latitude of the boat. Very exciting for me. Lesson in Morse, tried sending. Read some western Canada plays Shad has produced and acted in. Jim gave me a picture of the ship, which will help in explaining to the family.

Sat. Nov. 20: Big card game on tonight, ending in hot words. Came down at 10 to find everybody frothing at the mouth over Mrs. S_____, who is a poor loser. I hiked them round and round the deck until they cooled off. 

Side note: maybe this is why she doesn’t spend too much time with the civilian passengers.

Helen Skinner, with Sextant, upon the M.S. Silverwillow, finding Latitude, 1937
Still not so good at arithmetic but I found another Latitude today, taking the corrections from the nautical almanac. Foster supervised the completion of the hammock. Put on the battens and tied up the lanyards. Capt. came down and hung it for me in the aft-starboard corner of the deck. It's wonderfully comfortable, and I'm proud of it. Slept out about 4 hours tonight. 

Called topside after dinner. Capt. pasted stamps in his album. He has them from most of the strange ports of the world.

Side note: I love that she’s proud of her hammock. She should be, but it’s nice to recognize the feeling. And how awesome must it have been being cradled up in the air in a sling you made, outside on the deck, alone, moon out, a big black vastness in the distance punctuated by the stars of that sparkly chaotic roundabout in the sky, the Milky Way? I would say VERY awesome. 

Sun. Nov. 21: Almost the coolest a.m. we've had, and nearest the equator. Watched the `prentices do their weekly house-cleaning, very efficient. At noon Jim snatched one arm and leg, Thompson the other. Threats of the tar and feathers, but took it all out in hot air and so, I crossed the equator.  Came up from lunch to find Capt. in my hammock. Another visit to the boat deck, started "Silas Crockett". 4 passengers, and several from over yonder, doing the backhouse trot.

Side note: Playful equatorial-themed flirting is always fun. The pull-a-person-apart game, so as to exist in both hemispheres at the same time. Captain in hammock = flirting alert! I thought that ‘doing the backhouse trot’ was a dance, but it is not. It means what might happen if one ate bad food. 

Mon. Nov. 21: Slept out in my hammock all night delightful. Reading about setting a course on a chart. Shad furnished a pair of coveralls, Capt. came and took movies of me climbing board and beginning to paint the inside of #4 life boat. I had a fine time wagging the paint brush, got my arms and nose some what burned in the equatorial sun.
Helen, in her new coveralls, and presumably Shad, left, working on the deck of the M.S. Silverwillow, 1937 (other dude must be Foster or Jim or the other one) 
Lesson in Morse, and listened in astonishment to Shad, who quoted poetry, play, sang, ran from the sublime to the idiotic and back without a change of pace. He's really gifted, if he wanted to do anything with it.

Side note: Oh, to have those movies. The personal movie camera had just come out that year. Someone was a gadget head!

And also, more Shad intrigue. And he sounds intriguing.

So much going on and we’re still at sea, but we’re another eight days in. There’s still another 10 or so days to go til Cape Town.

What else was Helen doing aside from the above, you ask? Learning about how engines work. The below is NOT her handwriting. I’m gonna guess it is Shad.

Soon, Helen will know all this stuff like the back of her hand.

by Mary James

14. ON A BOAT! NOLA to ‘at Sea’, Nov 9-13, 1937

By now I thought we’d already be to South Africa, if not further. But here we have just shoved away from The Big Easy’s decadent docks. There are just so many good bits to share.

From a distance, we are now steaming steadily ahead, eastward ho, on the three-week salt-water-y trek to Cape Town, South Africa. Shall we peek in?

The Letter

(As a refresher, we look at the passage from the nice and concise after-the-trip letter and then the corresponding bits from the day to day journal.)

The passengers were left to themselves to get on as best they could. I chose to take part in the daily routine of the ship. During the 23 short days on the Atlantic I studied navigation with the Captain every morning, painted lifeboats with the apprentices, peered into the intricacies of the engine room, learned to send morse signals, sewed canvas with the quartermaster, made myself a sailors hammock and slept on deck under the southern stars. 

End Scene!

Kinda like a movie trailer, right? Just giving the highlights. But then the lights go down, and we watch it all unfold, one morse signal at a time.

The Journal

Lights, camera, action! 

[Present location:] 

Lat. 26" 57' N 
Long. 87° 52" N 

Wed. Nov. 10:  

8:30 — Breakfast — prunes.  

Wander over to watch the apprentices work and get a job setting grommets in a piece of canvas that's to enclose the Captain's deck.

Side note: She did wait until after prunes to find the engineers and land a job, but this was her first morning at sea, so she certainly didn’t waste time.

The apprentices are the ‘clean, intelligent looking youths from Canada’ from the last post, mind you. We will get to know (at least one of) them plenty. 

After lunch the Captain tells me he has discussed with the Mate my studying navigation — decided they'd experiment and see if an inexperienced person of normal intelligence can really learn how to steer a course in five months.

Side note: Normal intelligence. Pfft. Her two degrees from Columbia U would beg to differ! But maybe five months is a short amount to learn to navigate a freight boat? So if she could do it she was not just of normal intelligence, but extra?

Sadly, this was probably the only way she could learn ship navigation. Women weren’t navigating boats in 1937 (and barely even today). I looked this up, and a few women were ‘allowed’ to navigate when they got stuck at sea because the Captain became incapacitated or dead. And a few women disguised themselves as men and got to navigate… until they got found out. You may read more about it here.

But Helen got to learn while dressed as she pleased and while all the men on board were at full capacity. Good on you, men of the Silverwillow!

She was clearly meant to maneuver ships, as you can see:

M.S. Silverwillow, 1937, with its Captain and with Helen Skinner, learning to navigate with a sextant (this must be the Captain she went dancing with in NOLA??). 
Listened to "One Man's Family" and the Chesterfield Program on the Capt.'s radio.

Side note: I love when she mentions movies, politics, radio. It puts a timestamp (era-stamp?) on things. One Man’s Family was a radio soap opera, that, like the soaps still do, ran forever (silly me didn’t know they had soap operas before TV!).

The ‘Chesterfield Program’ means ‘Chesterfield Time‘ radio variety show (named after their sponsor, Chesterfield cigarettes). And I’m listening now to Chesterfield Time, and I suggest you do too, as it is leg shaking, fast talking fun. Era-stamps are important.

And then note that she is listening to these programs ON THE CAPTAIN’S RADIO — I hadn’t caught that before. Nice mood music, too. Hm. 

Weather: wind force 4. 

Sun in a.m. It may just be the day, but there is almost no sensation of motion of the ship. The engines throb through your conscience, but unless you look at the water you can't be sure you're moving. 

Inspection of after deck with Capt., the ship's potatoes are kept in a huge bin. News: Ramsay McDonald is dead. Brazil set up a dictatorship on the Nazi pattern.

Side note: a lovely thing about random journal entries is how they jump from topic to topic so effortlessly. From throbbing engines, to potato storage, to Nazis.

You can almost hear the staticky Walter Cronkite crackly type voice, more static, and then ***ATTENTION: We interrupt this programming with breaking news out of Her Majesty’s England. We have just learned that the former Prime Minister, Ramsay McDonald, has died. I repeat…***

Maybe they wouldn’t break in for Ramsay? But you can still hear the voice, can’t you?

And on November 10, 1937, Brazil’s Getúlio Vargas did indeed make for himself a new constitution and cancelled elections. Not good.

The bath procedure: Bucket of hot water, placed in rack in tub, sponge off or dump it in the tub. For a rinse fill the tub with sea water.

Side note: like I mentioned, a no frills trip. 

Present location: 

Lat. 22" 22' N
Long. 85° 04" W

Thru. Nov. 10

10 a.m. at the Captain's desk — I am set to work learning definitions for my first lesson in navigation. Study until 11:30.

Side note: For what she’s gonna be learning, this eighth grade level short on nautical navigation was way too much for my brain.

At dinner lettuce cooked with a fried onion and tomato sauce, artichokes. 

Pacing the Capt.'s deck after dinner. Learned how the Dutch are displacing the English in South Africa, since all in govt jobs must be bilingual — Africans and English, and the English won't bother.

Capt. says I may follow the 'prentices — do what jobs I want, and he'll have them practice Morse code sending with me. 

Side note: How about the Dutch and English just leave it all well enough alone??

And now the promising young men from Canada have been ordered to teach her whatever she wants, whenever she wants. And she wants to know everything.

Nov. 11 Foster taught me 4 knots: bowline on a bite, the knot used for handcuffs, hangman's noose, crown. Capt.'s wife expecting a second child momentarily.

Side note: The ‘prentices get right to work helping her do what she wants. And again, a married captain! Hm.

Notes from journal on ‘Capacity of Tanks’ and ‘Anchors’, perhaps taught to her by ‘prentices
Present location: 

Lat. 20" 23' N
Long. 30° 11" W
Dist. 330 mi.
Av. Speed 13.95 mph 

Fri. Nov. 12: I begin my pursuit of navigation this a.m., The Capt. explains the ecliptic and in a flash it is mine permanently.

After lunch — on the Engineers deck, had a try at Foster's hammock. It was a delightful sensation, mentioned it to the Capt. and he said, "why don't you make one?'. Within 5 min. the canvas was cut and ready. Service!

7:30 p.m. — "Not to be opened until Fri. Nov. 12" — so the box of candy Kay and Ann gave me made its debut in the Capt.'s room tonight.

Side note: The ecliptic is a navigational thing I just read about but don’t understand (not ‘in a flash mine’), so see the link from the beginning of this sentence.

And also, enter… the hammock! She mentioned it in the letter snippet above and here it is, happening, on day four.

Lastly, she is back in the Captain’s room, eating candy. Hm.

Helen (right) hanging out on the M.S. Silverwillow. (Yes, the woman on the left seems to be missing an arm, but I think that is a photo illusion, as Helen describes all the passengers, and with her level of detail, that would have come up).
Present location: 

Lat. 18" 21' N 
Long. 74° 48" W
Dist. 330 mi.
Av. Speed 13.96 mph 

Sat. Nov. 13: Woke at 4:00 a.m. Up and had a look at the stars, they seem so much closer in these southern skies. Up again to see the sunrise and watch the boat come to life about 6 a.m. 

In a haze off to starboard lies the mountain that looked like a cloud bank, but is Jamaica. Started figuring GMT, and am painfully dumb at it. Navassa Is. to starboard this a.m. and shortly after the beautiful slopes of Haiti loom up to port. Low banks of cumulus clouds give the effect of a volcano from the highest peak. Foster undertakes to give me some help in navigation, until tea time working problems. 

4:15 — Worked on my hammock with one eye on the clouds. The last view of Haiti was a soft gray mist with purple shadows on the land as a peak shone thru here and there. This morning the water was sapphire, and the waves so smooth it seemed you could slide on the surface. At sunset: puffs of pink cloud all around the horizon, and the water almost motionless, a turquoise color with iridescent reflections.

End scene!

“This morning the water was sapphire, and the waves so smooth it seemed you could slide on the surface.” – Helen Skinner

And side note: if stars look close in a good way, I suspect her heart is full (she has her trifecta of machines, travel, and men). If the stars were close in a bad way, they’d feel claustrophobic, and that is gleaned nowhere in her writing.

I’m also sure she’s not dumb at GMT (Greenwich Mean Time). They are moving around the world, slowly, so the time is constantly changing. How, without Google, would anyone know the time!?

I am ending this one here, as I believe Haiti is the last bit of land she sees for about 20 days, and that seems a good place for an intermission.

Next up: latitudes, handwriting analysis, a tiny bit more land (oops), the backhouse trot, and engineer intrigue (not just the how of it, but some of the ‘who is this smart hot cute engineer’ of it?’). Stay tuned!!

by Mary James

13. Come Sail Away, Come Sail Away With Meeeeeee! 🎵

Setting Sail

In The Helen Files, I mentioned that my uncle Bob had transcribed Helen’s travel journal from her 1937 trip around the world, with its eensie handwriting, and that it came out to 70 typed pages. When a printed version made its way to me, a smart-me would have scanned it and used a software to make it into editable typed text. But stupid-me got excited, underlined a bunch of it, circled some, and put stars and exclamation points all over.

When I went to scan it, the transcribing software got confused by my scribbling and made half of the text like *)H%%soiwue)(. But the other half was ok, and, through re-re-transcribing it, I got to live the tale again, and I noticed all sorts of new detail.

There are two main artifacts. The first is the journal, with all the daily detail and juicy bits, peppered with buried hints. That along with A LOT of particulars. And the other is a three page letter, summarizing it all beautifully. I shall section them in a juxtaposed way, in chronological order.

The Letter – Post-Trip 1938

To preface, when Helen was 34, she did a 360 degree world-loop, solo, on a freight boat, with nary a few civilian passengers (but at least one really nice crewman).

Here it is:

M.S. Silverwillow. Helen spent five months aboard, from 1937-38, going worldwide, dodging real and figurative fireworks

The letter is likely a carbon copy, and the same letter sent to multiple people. And it was written from Arlington, New Jersey, where her parents lived. By October 1938, her parents definitely would have known all that is in the letter, as she returned several months’ prior. As would her sister. So maybe she wrote this to friends and less immediate family.

See:

Post trip letter from Helen, likely a carbon copy sent to multiple people, Part I, 1938

Here she starts:

October 29, 1938 

The Motorvessel Silverwillow is heading north from Panama on her way to New Orleans again. She has been around the world since I left her last March at San Francisco, and it's nearly a year since I sailed for Cape Town and points east. It is high time I attended to some sadly neglected correspondence.

Side note: ‘Motorvessel’ must be the M.S. in the boat’s name: The M.S. Silverwillow. Google says this could mean Motor Ship and that is interchangeable with Motor Vessel. As for how she knows where the boat is located a year later after her trip, it is likely because she maintained relations with a, now former, crewman.

It was Nov. 9 when, loaded with lumber, mining machinery, asphalt, shingles, apples, canned salmon, Ford trucks (to mention a few items of cargo) and eight passengers, the freighter Silverwillow nosed out into the Mississippi and set her course for South Africa. 

Side note: November 9, 1937, to clarify. Right around when a certain World War was brewing.

My fellow travellers were a heterogeneous assortment: a retired rancher and his wife from Canada, who left us in Africa (he had fought in the Boer War, and was going back to see what it was all about)... a fluttery 70-year old spinster from Frisco... a neurotic woman of about my age who was dangling on the brink of divorce...three widows, two of them past 70 years of age, and the third, my roommate, was a dear, a good traveller, easy to live with. 

Side note: Heterogeneous for middle income civilian travelers from America with the means to travel for five months in 1937, yes. But this wasn’t a highball-up, pinky-out kind of trip. Though the Booze Cruise freight boat experience did seem quite opulent, this one was no frills. No costume parties or Gin Rickeys whilst perched on railings. The eight civilian passengers had buckets for showers, slop with the crew, and glorified cubby holes for rooms. We will learn all this…

It chipped years from my age to be the youngest in the crowd, and guess I was the 'enfant terrible’ of the voyage. Anyway I'm sure I had the best time and saw the most, even if I skipped a museum now and then. 

Side note: She absolutely had the best time.

End first scene!

The Journal – The Realtime Timeline

And over to the journal now, where we get to dive in and see what was really going on. She starts by meeting the boat. 

Present Location:  

Lat. 26" 57' N 
Long. 87° 52" N  

Mon, Nov 8 

At last — the Silverwillow. 

Captain said, "I'm glad to see some young blood getting on — it looks like an old ladies' home." A cheerful thrust for an introduction — went on board.

Side note: Cheeky captain! We learned from her last travel log that she quite enjoys a good flirt.

Wandering around the boat, C___ encounters the Captain, we all go up on his deck where he makes us at home, offers smokes and beverages. We talk for a couple of hours. He takes us back to town in his cab. Capt. asks if I want to go back to the boat or for a bit of a dance — to the Blue Room. He listens to my navigation aspirations, sounds hopeful about the possibilities. Back to the ship at 1:30 — roommate still up. The Capt. is a fine person — if only the trip may be as pleasant as the send off.

Side note: She drops off her things, and finds herself promptly on the Captain’s deck, smoking, drinking, and schmoozing, and I’m certain this is exactly where she wanted to be, as it’s the Captain who needs to make her navigation aspirations real. The place where she goes to boogie with the Captain (until 1:30am!) was NOLA’s swanky new club, The Blue Room, which would see the likes of Frank and Louis and Ella in its day.

Tue. Nov 9: 

5:30 a.m. wake when the loaders start shouting and the winches begin to creek putting aboard objects of 10,000 lb. At 8:00 and 8:30 jangling of a bell: warning and breakfast. 

Boiled potatoes are depressing in the morning even if someone else is eating them. Good toast and eggs. Stewards and cooks Chinese — food British. 

9:00 a.m. — I take a taxi to town, buy stationery, gum, some golf clubs at a bargain. 

Side note: She goes to town to get necessities for her trip at sea… like golf clubs. Hm. Also, she only had four hours of sleep due to all the dancing. And while I’m a big fan of the potato and don’t like it disparaged, this is golden:

“Boiled potatoes are depressing in the morning even if someone else is eating them.” – Helen Skinner

To the boat. Mr. Sparks introduces the apprentices and things look up. There are four, three of them and a Junior Engineer are clean, intelligent looking youths from Canada. 

Side note: This is key, as one of these youths is a 23 year old Mr. Royal E. Shadbolt of Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. And when you see what he looks like, you’ll understand why she said ‘things are looking up’. But you’ll have to wait until South Africa for that. Also, it’s too cute that she is already meddling again with the crew rather than lounging with the passengers. 

At 5:45 we cast off, the wharf recedes, we are turning in a wide arc and heading down the river. 

It has actually happened — I am starting around the world.

I feel excited and nervous for her, even though I know what all transpired.

That is the end of the pre-boat preparations! We are sailing!!

by Mary James

12. A Brother in Awe, Olympics, Barometers, Sendoffs

A Brother in Awe

While all the booze cruising and high flying was going on, Helen received a letter from her soon to be brother-in-law, Walter J. McLaren, a 31-year-old banker from Brooklyn (specifically, we think, Bedford Stuyvesant). Walt is about to marry Helen’s baby sister, Mary (my grandmother and namesake), who was 24 and had recently graduated from Skidmore College with a degree in Home Economics. Helen, like Walter, was 31.

Here are the best bits of the letter (with some commentary):

Dear Helen, 

I received your letter to Mary today and write to accept my appointment as junior postmaster for the Skinners. Your handwriting on the envelope made me feel quite guilty so I hastened to make amends with my future sister-in-law by acknowledging with thanks your Christmas card and your welcome into the family.

Side note: Always good to start humble, with an ‘at your service’ vibe, all the while flattering (he offers to work for them and compliments her handwriting, which is, though tiny, impeccable). 

It gave me a new thrill when I realized that in addition to having a lovely wife I am going to have a sister too. I have always wanted one and I look forward to really knowing you. Mary has told me a lot about you so that I feel that my new sister is not entirely a stranger but I must admit I stand in awe of your many accomplishments. I hope you will like me and feel entirely at ease and comfortable in our home. We hope to make it a place where you can breathe freely even though your breath should be scented with the enticing musty aroma of beer.

Side note: Her CV was quite remarkable already in 1935, so he’s correct to be in awe. ‘I hope you will like me…’ is about the cutest thing ever, considering they are peers. The home Walter and Mary would make was a cozy one in New Jersey, with their soon to be children — eventually three, including my mother. And if banking didn’t work out for Walt, based on that last sentence about beer, he coulda written copy for the ad business a la Don Draper. 

If my writing isn’t legible or coherent, blame it on the pen which occasionally imagines itself a syringe and discharges its ink with a startling effect. Personally I think it’s ashamed of me and belches with embarrassment.

Side note: If he wrote ads for the pen industry, he coulda easily taken down a competitor.

Now that I have done the polite thing of introducing myself in somewhat stilted style, of making my apologies, of giving my thanks and explaining my eccentric manner of writing, I am free to devote the rest of this letter to my one subject, Mary.

Side note: SO CUTE! 

As I think you realized I have been in the past no better than I should have been and posed as a professional cynic. I suppose that judged by strictly Presbyterian standards I am condemned to burn in the everlasting fires of Hell but instead it seems that I am to be warmed by happiness of a true perfect love. I shall always be grateful to Mary for teaching me a new way to view life and a promise of a beautiful future.

Side note: I’m not sure what that first part means. That he was on the wrong track until he met Mary? Not sure, but before seeing this letter, I’d only known my grandparents through pictures and tales of a quiet family home, with the three quiet children and a beloved cocker spaniel, CoCo. That Walt was so emotive about his bride-to-be is excellently sweet. ‘A true perfect love…’. It just makes me want to squeeze them all. And we don’t often squeeze. 

I am writing to you of these things as I feel that you will want to know and I am sure that you will understand. I also realize that if the ravings of a love blinded boy bore you a perfect defense is open to you. I don’t usually warn my victims but I feel friendly toward you. I wish you could have seen Mary at Christmas you could then understand me. Mary radiates a halo of joy and love that causes people to look at her with a soft light in their eyes. Do you believe I love her?

Side note: I do! I do! He’s so gushy, but without hyperbole, I think. He just seems straight up smitten.

I do a great deal of thinking about what our life together is going to be. I want Mary to have a full life and her own life. I do not intend to imprison her with rules and restrictions and I am afraid that I shall resent outside interference with her choice of living. You no doubt can advise me about this point as my Mary is a poor diplomat I have found. That trait seems to be characteristic of the Scotch. I think I had better close this letter and reserve something for the future. I want to repeat my invitation to make our home your home and our garage your garage.  With hope for a genuine understanding, I am. 

Your brother, 

Walter
Walter McLaren (Helen’s soon to be brother-in-law) introduces himself in a doting letter, 1935

Too sweet. And bitter sweet. From what I know, they lived a happy life, raising the three children in Essex Fells, New Jersey. Walter was the Vice President of a local bank. Mary was a homemaker. I unfortunately never met her, as she passed away of heart disease at a far too young 58, and I had yet to come along. I was however named after her, including her middle name, Elizabeth). Walter I met once, if you call an adult meeting a two year old ‘meeting’. Evidence below.

What’s been told of them is that they — like the rest of us — were not timid or shy necessarily, but words were not wasted. But then in the Booze Cruise post, Helen is a social butterfly and this letter, my grandfather is being silly and emotive. So everything is topsy turvy. But in the best ways. We all have our moments.

I’m getting off track, as this is not about Helen, but you will see soon how I circle back.

Some visuals of Mary and Walter and fam to go along with all this:

The first picture, of the child in the white hat, fancy coat, and boots, is Walter. Hehe.

Then they grow up, meet, have kiddos, and then, in one of my favorite photos of all time, likely taken in the 1950s, they appear to be opening presents on Christmas morning (they look so perfectly disheveled in such a 1950s way).

Though I don’t have pictures of Helen and Mary together aside from when they were children, I found this from a letter Helen wrote in the 1980s about their relationship:

"Mary and I scarcely knew each other when we were growing up. I was away at school, or away teaching (U of Cincinnati, U of Kentucky, Smith College, U of Minnesota, Purdue, Gulf Park College (a junior college in Gulfport Miss). But from 1946 we saw each other more often. She and Walter came to Vanc and we went east and we became devoted to each other. She and Walter were very active in community affairs and were much revered and admired. In 1961 M had an open heart operation and she felt after that she was living on borrowed time. But she had eight good years after that and never stopped her activities."

Helen would outlive her baby sister by over 30 years.

III Olympics

And now a few final items I found from her teaching era, before we set sail around the world. I have framed on my wall two tickets to the 1932 Winter Olympics, in Lake Placid, New York. These were the III Olympic Winter Games, and they were the first Olympics held in the United States. The competing countries, not surprisingly, were mostly in North America and Europe. In attendance there were 17 nations, with a total of 252 athletes (21 of them women). Curling was played even! How very Upper North American.

Though the world was still suffering from a global depression, attendance was low and the games were almost cancelled, the show went on.

The top ticket (at double the price of the second one) was likely for the closing ceremonies. How fun.

Helen studied, lived, and loved athletics and I hope she enjoyed the games as much, if not more, than the did the Jai Alai game she attended in Havana a few years later.

Barometer Reader

Another item in my possession is a cool looking barometer. It resides next to our front door, and is always set as it appears below: Rain with a chance of Changeable. The mechanics inside the thing do not move on their own, but I haven’t fiddled with it to know if they might (not that me fiddling with it would help, but perhaps one of the many engineers in the family could help — and if they’re reading this then the pressure is on!).

There are two ‘hands’ to the barometer. The gold one moves around manually via the knob in the middle. The blue one is controlled internally (or would be if it worked). And what I probably once learned but had forgotten is that barometers measure atmospheric pressure, and that’s what they were used for in aviation. The webs explain it better than I can.

The little blue plane on top seems an add on. The back is engraved: Helen Skinner, Gulf Park A.A., 1933. Perhaps this was a gift after she got her pilot’s license.

May your days be forever Fair, my friends!

A Long Goodbye

The card below reads: “Dear Miss Skinner, may every hour of your trip give you joy and the fulfillment of your most roseate dreams. You deserve every cherished blessing and every supreme happiness. All of us here at Gulf Park love, admire and appreciate you. Sincerely, Elizabeth Maddox Cox.”

Roseate is a word I either forgot (most likely) or never knew. But it is my new favorite word. A nice sentiment, but Helen would certainly not need roseate colored glasses where she was going.

The note above isn’t dated, but we will be assuming that it was written from Gulf Park College to Helen before she left on her freight boat trip around the world. It would mean she was taking time off from teaching, as the trip would last five months. I am not sure if she resigned her position at the school before she left, but if she didn’t, she would right after she returned. The trip truly turned her life on its head, because afterwards, she’d never lived in the U.S. again.

So now, for reals, we’re gonna start the next chapter. Leave your roseate colored glasses behind!

by Mary James

11. Aviatrix, Sir/Madam, and The Ninety-Nine’s

In the last post, we established that Helen was way more foot loose and fancy free than her outward persona would indicate. My husband commented about the cruise post and how strange it must have been, in 1934, to meet a single, 31 year-old woman, traveling alone, who flew planes, wants to know all about boat engines and navigation, knows all about sports, has an M.A. from Columbia, is wearing slacks, and may or my not be perched on a railing of a freight boat, highball in hand — not to mention she is funny, flirty, and one sweet patootie to boot (that meant pretty back then, and I say that it is true, objectively, as an impartial Great Niece). Here she is:

Helen Skinner, circa 1934, Gulf Port College, looking good and hiding her cray cray side

Below are some additional flight artifacts from the 1930s.

Beep Beep, Aviatrix on Board!

I swear I posted this one already, but now I can’t find it. Helen taught Physical Education in summers at Purdue University in Indiana, and luckily they had an airfield (perhaps that is why she taught there Amelia Earhart also taught at Purdue at the same time, but it seems not in the summers. Helen logged many air hours there and got a nice shout out and photo in the Lafayette Journal.

High flying Helen, featured in the Lafayette Journal (which still exists)

Note it says she was the FIRST WOMAN on the Purdue faculty to fly solo from the airfield. And that she is popular (among the male flyers, heh). The Capt L.I. Aretz, who is mentioned in the snippet, has lots of press with Earhart. Not that it’s a competition or anything, but still, Helen was first to fly solo from their airfield and not anyone else.

Dear Sir Madam:

The below letter is fun if you look closely. Do that. You’ll see it is a template. There is preprinted text with salutations and addresses and such (the preprinted text is darker — look at the numbers after ‘license No.” for instance). Then look at the salutation and see the XXX typed over the word ‘Sir’ and ‘Madam’ is typed in after it. The 1930s was an era of Sirs doing official things that needed letterhead. So it made sense then that Sir was built into the template. But not for long! Here comes Madam Helen, swooping in after a perfect wing over! The letter uses both Miss and Madam, as seems appropriate for the time, since Ms. wasn’t around just yet.

(I just looked up the Mr./Mrs./Ms./Miss. history and it is a hoot. Google about it AFTER you are done with this post.)

Letter containing Helen’s Pilot License and ID, from the Department of Commerce, 1936

Now I am looking up details about the letter:

J. Carroll Cone, who penned it, or at least dictated it, was a bigwig in aviation and became an assistant director for the Air Commerce Bureau under FDR and others. Robert R. Reining was Chief of the Bureau of Air Commerce Registration. He’s named several times in a journal article from the The International Group for Historic Aircraft Recovery alongside picture of Amelia Earhart.

The enclosed license and ID are shown back in this post.

The address the letter was sent to in Arlington, New Jersey, was not Helen’s, but her parents, as Helen was a bit nomadic, especially in the summers, and this was August.

Ninety-Nine’s

The next artifact is the card in the image below. The Ninety Nine’s are female pilots, named after the number of charter members who first were licensed. Helen was not part of that original group and I can’t find the membership history outside of the charter members, but for what it’s worth, the group was started in 1929 and Helen got her license in 1934. I have in my possession one Ninety Nine’s membership club, good from September 1936 to September 1937:

Membership Card for the Ninety-Nine’s, Sept 1936 – Sept 1937

That is business card sized and would have been tricky to roll into a typewriter, but whomever typed it was skilled. Dorothy George, who signed it, is mentioned in this newsletter about the Ninety-Nine’s from 1938, which is all festive for Thanksgiving.

Then in 1939, Helen received an invite from a Miss Jacqueline Cochran (who at the time was busy setting airspeed records — I suspect she might not have actually penned the invite) — to a buffet in honor of Bettie Gillies (this is when Bettie became president of the club, when she was a wee 31 years old). I don’t know if Helen attended the event, because by that point her life had taken a loopdeloop and she was living in Western Canada, was married, and fiddling with motorcycles and cars.

The invite mentions the Graybar Building. That is still there and very art deco looking. And Michel’s on 53rd Street was fancy and formal looking.

A room full of female pilots in the 1930s musta been something to behold.

I keep finding more things! Like a personalized barometer, tickets to the 1932 Olympics, and a syrupy letter from Helen’s soon to be brother-in-law (my grandfather, who I have been told was not a bit syrupy). But those will wait until the next post, as I don’t want to extend the title of this one more. Until soon!

by Mary James

10. Great White Fleet (Prohibition Era) Booze Cruise

In December 1934, Helen travelled, most likely from Gulf Port, MI, to New Orleans, LA, to board the S.S. Sixaloa, a Great White Fleet vessel that was part of United Fruit Company (now known as Chiquita). Like with her subsequent boat travel, this ship’s primary purpose was freight. But unlike the next one she’d take, this one had a pretty swank passenger service. The picture below is the cover from a brochure (acquired from eBay) advertising the trip, one that speaks of smoking rooms, grand pianos, sound movies, and gay soirees. And also quoits (a ‘throw a ring over a stick’ game).

United Fruit Company, Passenger Service brochure for a trip Helen took in 1934.

Though prohibition had only ended a mere few months before her trip, she comes across quite comfortable with the booze. Not that she imbibed a lot, just that it seems like she was perfectly at home schmoozing, perched on the railing of a freight liner, in slacks, surrounded by men, at sunset in the Caribbean Sea, highball in hand.

Let us travel with her, from her first impressions, to her port adventures, to post-coup presidential drive bys, to courtships (more than one even!), to highballs.

The illustration below, also from the brochure, shows her route.

Cruise Route, Great White Fleet, United Fruit Company, 1934

I should state that her notes about this trip are written in a tiny smushed cursive. All of her writing is tiny, but with most of it, if you scan it and blow it up big, you find the letters are fully formed. But with this, blowing it up helps some but not completely, so certain aspects of things will remain a smushed mystery, perhaps as they should be. Please see Exhibit A below. Also, there are several people named in her notes, but most aren’t really given much depth. Names can for the most part be ignored, except for Dr. and Nic.

Exhibit A: Helen’s ‘Cruise Log’ from 1934, on 7 x 5.5″ paper (a little taller and wider than a cell phone)

On December 15, 1934, the S.S. Sixaloa, “…slid away from the mooring at 11:15, in a shower of streamer confetti.”

Her first impression is that she is pleased her cabin has “…enough room to turn around.” Judging from my one boat travel experience, that is indeed a luxury.

She also mentions corsages several times on the opening page, and even the next morning, after they slid away, she says she is still wearing two of them. See photo evidence below.

Helen Skinner, 1934, aboard the S.S. Sixaloa, wearing two corsages

Boxed text is directly from her Cruise Log, and side notes are by moi.

Dec 16: The luxury of it. Chimes sound, but I need not pay attention to them. Had bath in warm salt water with pine scented soap, then breakfast in bed. Visited the Dr., who's been on a cruise with Mr. Cox.

Side note: Chimes to her are probably school bells, but her only jobs now are self-assigned. Also, the last part, about the Dr., is important, but not the part about Mr. Cox. Stay tuned.

_____

As they floated into Havana Harbor, someone handed her a “Pina Fria” cocktail (a pineapple and rum concoction). They cruised past Morro Castle and anchored at the Santa Clara dock.

We wandered off toward town, pursued by beggar children. Stop at Columbus Cathedral, started by the jesuits, and where Columbus remains buried. Past the President’s Palace to the Capitola. A vastly imposing structure, ceilings hand painted, the library paneled to the ceiling with mahogany. The senate chamber empty -- for congress has fled.

Side note: I don’t know if ‘for congress has fled’ meant they went home for the day or they actually fled. There had been a coup several months prior, and maybe congress wasn’t a priority to the new guy.

Next stop the Romeo and Juliet Cigar Factory. Here we saw Pres Mendieta drive by, and later saw him again.

Side note: I hope she smoked the cigar (if she wanted to, that is). Also, Mendieta was installed that year as an interim president after said coup. He had been at it for 11 months at this time, and was still doing the slow wave drive by. This would make him far too busy to put together a new congress.

To the beer garden with tropical foliage around the brewery. Free beer for all and dancing, Havana has acquired a taste for beer, it is 5 cents a glass. Impression: a beautiful city, fascinating for its Spanish architecture, clean, a New Orleans polished and bright, exquisite patios even in the poorest districts, magnificent boulevards. The palm lined streets are royal indeed. Hundreds of touring-car taxis, skittering through narrow streets, with sidewalks wide enough for one person. A polyglot population, all shades, and the fewest possible Americans.

Side note: Prohibition had been over for half a year or so, so I doubt there were many beer gardens in the U.S. at this time, so this must have been a new kind of experience. And despite their possible lack of congress and political turmoil, Havana was super vibrant at this time, and would be for a few more decades (at least on the surface).

After dinner, very tired. To Jai Alai game. The guide explained the game, bot* a ball and basket for us to see. The court is 210' long x 50' wide. Saw an elimination 6 point game and a doubles match for 30 points. It is even more fascinating that I anticipated their form, coordination, strength, skill were a joy to watch - and the spectators - cubans who come night after night to bet. And the red beret-ed [word I can't read] were a spectacle to behold. We had to tear ourselves away at 9:20, feeling high and such not the least tired, feeling exhilaration from watching a game! The car was stopped twice en route - seems seven drivers had been discovered carrying dynamite today. Another "Pina Fria" and then back to the boat, sailing at 10. The harbor was glorious at night. Had a daiquiri to celebrate the day, turned in.

*Bot means bought

Side note: Remember she is a Director of Physical Education at this time, so very into athletics. Also, she uses exclamation points extremely sparingly, so she truly enjoyed the game. A little dynamite seems like nothing after the excitement of the day. 

Dec 18 - Put on slacks, paced the deck, chatted the Capt, the Dr., the Steward, sat on the rail of A. deck in the sun. Dr. operated on my face. Goggle-eyes treated me to a glass of beer in the evening. Up until 1:30. Date with the chief to go below tomorrow.

Side note: At the time, women wore pants at home, at the beach, and for sport. And perhaps on cruises as well, unless she was trailblazing. She seems to be getting into schmooze mode now, balancing on railings in her slacks surrounded by several non-civilian men (captains, doctors, engineers).

I’m not sure if Goggle-eyes is a term of endearment. The Dr seems to be giving her skin treatment here as well. The true proof of the schmooze is the last sentence above. She does this on the next cruise as well… she talks the ‘chief’ into letting her tour the underbelly of the ship to document what makes it tic.

Dec 19 - Went to inspect the engine room. Triple drive engine, every revolution of drive shaft advances boat 20 ft. Oil burning, use 24 tons a day southbound, 30 tons northbound (on account of the refrigerating machinery). Temp 130 in furnace room. Saw the storage rooms for food, engineering quarters. Met the captain and invited myself to the bridge. Showed me the chart of our location and course. Sam at the wheel. Next inspected the wireless room. I think I have been in every cranny but the galley.

Side note: As confirmed in her next boat trip, her happy place includes flirting, travel, and machinery. This boat had all three. 

Dec 20 - The first real seas we’ve had, I would chose this time to fall off the roof, with cramps. To the Dr after and an arsenic cocktail, otherwise ammonia spirits and Midol. Did nothing all day and the dose worked."

Side note: ‘Falling off the roof’ means menstruating! So it’s not like she was on a roof and got a cramp and fell off, but she got ladytime cramps. I like how Midol was already being used for these symptoms, but she’s still given booze (arsenic cocktail has absinthe). Ammonia spirits are smelling salts, used at the time to prevent fainting.

Dec 21 - Wakened at 4:45 as we enter the breakwater. First night of Panama by bright moonlight. Shortly after we docked, a good looking Lt came up the gangway, tipped his hat to me ‘Is this Miss Skinner?’ “I am Lt Burnett, aide of General Lytle Brown, Commander of Fort DeLeayer [?]. The general asks me to say that he has gone on an inspection trip this AM, that he had just received a cable asking him the average transportation across the canal. Of course women are not allowed to fly in army planes, but I am at your service, is there anything I can do?

Side note: A gangway, a good looking lieutenant, and a hat tip. Very cinematic no? News that she flew planes must have traveled, but a woman can’t even fly IN an army plane. Hmm. 

The airways agent came on board and 5 of us made arrangements to fly both ways. Was driven to the general’s car, which was parked on the dock (forbidden to other cars). Drove us around Cristobal, Colon, New Cristobal, and put us on the plane. Transcontinental Seaplane flight. 1650 run, 1500 ft, 90 mile speed. It gave a perfect idea of the canal and surrounding territory -- the Atlantic and Pacific sides. Saw many boats going through in no time we were landing at Balboa.

Side note: It must be something to be greeted (in a nice way) by the local military, driven around in an official car (that can park wherever it wants), and to fly over the Panama Canal in a little seaplane. She must have done some good schmoozing with someone on board.

Drove to Old Panama, en route saw banyan trees, papayas, sensitive plant. Then it rained, a tropical shower. Dashed back to the car, drenched, and slithered back to town. Went to outdoor market. Spent all my money. There are Hindus, Chinese, Panamanians. 

Then to Atlantic Cafe. Had rum, guava, and lime. Addictive drink. And then Atlas beer. Danced some to the Panamanian orchestra. The floor show was terrible, 3rd rate vaudeville, but the audience was interesting and I hated to sail away at midnight. The moon was full and gloriously bright. We bounced up and down and hither and thither all night. They drive on the left hand side in Panama.

Side note: Embedded in the paragraph above was a hard to read bit about a man who was a friend of a friend of a shipmate, a Reserve Officer who was an attractive blonde. I assume she got her flirting in with him (meaning likely talking about engines). Atlas beer still exists. 

Dec 22 - I’ve never felt more exhilarated than I did today, simply loved the rolling. Land on the port bow, and shortly after noon we came close to the shore to see tremendous green headers washing over the point of land outside Bocas de Toro. The headland covered with tropical foliage, tropic huts on the shore. At ‘Mouth of the Bull’ we took on a native gang, went on up to Almirante. There we stayed for eight hours, taking on a load. 150 men in the loading gang. Took on 4000 stems of bananas, and 2500 bags (152 1/2 lb each) of cocoa beans. There are 23,000 acres under cultivation. Beans are shelled, let to ferment, then dried and shipped in bags. The crop is ten million pounds a year. Cost to raise and ship $.26. Watched the loading process. The stem is taken from the car, lifted to the shoulder of a laborer. One with a machete cuts all the ends of the stem, another picks up any banana that is not up to the grade of the rest of the stem. Moved on the belt and each stem counted as it drops into the hold. The dock is in a coconut grove. They opened up green ones and let us drink the milk. Not so good. There is just a small town with a commissary, and a bunch of native shacks. The language is English, spoken beautifully, for many of the natives are from Jamaica. 15 nationalities in the crew. The Dr. very attractive, watched the unloading at Bocas, stood on the promenade deck to see the moon up over the rigging, the surf, the salt air were unforgettable.

Side note: Her actual description of cargo was like three times longer than the above. But more importantly, it appears the sea has wooed her. And so has the allure of all mechanisms of global freight — from the physics of a boat, to the cargo loads, to the (sometimes handsome) people who make it chug along. With whom is she watching all this loading and unloading?? Drumroll… the Dr.!!

Dec 23 - To the writing room after breakfast to catch up on the log, but the Dr. up and camped, and almost immediately it was lunch time. Up on the bridge deck for a couple of hours in the sun and found the hurricane deck the greatest spot yet. Keno games in the evening. 30 cents was enough to lose, and it was hot on the port side, so I went around to the starboard, the Dr. followed, and we chewed a few rugs.

Side note: I thought ‘chewed a few rugs’ meant talking, as it would seem in this context, but Google gave me answers ranging from Hitler’s fury to dogs-in-a-time-out, but ChatGTP tells me, it might have been energetic dancing. So she (maybe) shakes it with the Dr on the starboard side.

Dec 24 - Much agitation about a Christmas Party. The great organizer, Mr Hayes, appointed committees galore. I was on the entertainment comm. Ladies shuffleboard tournament. First time I’ve played this trip and my score was 0. Dressed for dinner in outlandish costumes - I was a man in a short throw, long shoes, a straw hat. About 8:30 we docked at Castilla, Honduras. Santa Claus (Mr Hayes) gave out presents around the tree in the drawing saloon, there was hilarity galore, and each member of the crew was given a present, too (87 of them).

Side note: I love picturing this scene, each passenger scurrying around with a role making a party happen. A ship, silly costumes, noisemakers, shuffleboard. 

It was announced that a dance was being held at the club, and that cars would take us over. We dressed in more mature looking outfits and set forth. The ‘club’ is a barny looking place, two huge rooms for dancing, pool, and a bar. Several people made it a party. Teddy had brought a quart of Bacardi. The music was over the loudspeaker, the records were recent, and Nic an excellent dancer, and just the right light. We had a grand time. One of the girls who was dancing sent word to tell me that she recognized me as her PE teach, and sure enough, a Davis was at SPC two years ago is married to a man named Cliff who works for the Fruit. She looked stunning as usual, says she loves it, life is just one cocktail party after another (and I imagine it is). So left before twelve, walked back along the waterfront under the coconut trees and a tropic mood - and Christmas Eve - wee! Nic came back on deck after he put on his working clothes, and we chatted until his watch came up, when we all discoursed until after 2. It was a 3 when the last elevator stopped and more than half an hour until we set sail. The lights of Truxillo [sp?] across the bay will always remain mysterious, for we came and sailed again in the night.

Side note: Regarding dancing… she doesn’t elaborate, but notes on her timeline show that she attended dance seminars and conferences over the years. So she knew how to cut a rug. And then this engineer, Nic, the wonderful dancer, starts showing up more in her notes. But what about the Dr.!?

Dec 25 - Christmas on the Caribbean. Slept late. Did a little letter writing. Cigarette day. After lunch the Dr came by cabin. The Chief Engineer came to visit. About 2 began to see the coast of British Honduras as we came toward the harbor - mountain rising from the sea, jungle clad. Landed toward four at Puerto Barrios, Guatemala. The Dr. took me to see Barrios [discuss ovulation - fertility 16th day from 1st of menses]. We walked out past the commissary, the native houses are mostly built on ‘stilts’ for when it rains it rains. After dinner we had some dancing on the deck - but I almost forgot the dinner - horns and other noisemakers on the tables, and a box of candy for everyone. Had a daiquiri and then ate endless round of many courses, delicious, ending with fruit cake and bisque tortoise.

Side note: She does not specify which cabin the Dr. came to visit, but I’m assuming it is hers. A check up? A flirt session? But then the Chief Engineer comes to visit as well (this must be Nic). So popular! And then to town with the Dr, where they discuss ovulation. Then more dancing, taking turns with both Nic and the Dr (this part is scribbly, but I’m pretty sure that is what is said). Then, not included above, there are some disjointed notes about a criminal trial on the boat, where she was supposed to be a witness for the defense. She says, “I was subpoenaed to appear, but Nic & I stood on deck.” Some weird role playing shenanigans among the passengers?

Dec 26 - Repacked somewhat, and felt in a little better order. Word came Nic wanted to see me. At 2:30 I went to the engine room to call on Nic. Visited for an hour. After dinner the passengers played a game and nominated a Governor amid much hilarity. Nic cam up and we stood on deck from 7-11. Heavy date!

Side note: More role playing onboard. Four hours is a long time to stand on a deck, no? And ‘heavy date’. Hm.

Dec 27 - On the wireless operator. Saw Nic for about an hour.

Side note: The game they played on the 26th seems to be spilling into events of subsequent days. This ‘Governor’ went on to have a full on campaign, involving treating the passengers sorbet. Then there was a speaker series or something and a finance scandal. I can’t read half of it, but it is going on while Helen is being courted by Nic and/or the Dr.

Someone was then thrown out of the election while Helen was visiting Nic in the bowels of the boat, in the wee hours.

Dec 28 - They woke us at 6 as we came into Havana Harbor, it took ages to get into the dock. Went then El Canto the Department Store. Bot liquor, went to the Bacardi plant and had daiquiris in the bar upstairs. To French Brothers. To Jigg's cabaret. Good orchestra, native and U.S. music, we danced and danced and he is good at that. Had to come start the engines at midnights, and we left shortly after 12. Watched an exquisite moon as we slid out past the Morro Castle.

Side note: That they had to go start the boat indicates that she was with Nic the Engineer, and they had to run back to the boat at midnight. Does Dr. know??

Dec 29 - Sunbathe. Saw many porpoises. Meeting of a committee to form an Alumni Association of the cruise. Had some rum with Doly (sp?) but he gives me a pain. Nic came up, but the Capt was on a tear, so he went down early.

Side note: More Nic, and he seems to even get in trouble. 

Dec 30 - Glorious bright morning, but the officers are back in their blues. Sunbathed a couple of hours. Nic cam up at 11:30. He showed me a picture of wife and two children. Visited the doctor before and after lunch. About 3:30 we ran into fog. Blowing of horns. Dropped anchor. We were fog bound. A bell rung every 30 sec and a foghorn did likewise. Good food and noise makers. Clarence furnished cocktails.

Side note: Nic is married!! And now the Dr is back. Twiiist.

Dec 31 - 1 a.m., still at anchor. Fog horns blowing. "At anchor" bells ringing and they rang until after 7 a.m. Cleared as we went up the river - but dull life lorn scenery. Chatted the Chief on river currents, politics and religion. He's a dear. Visited with Nic an hour - to see the Dr, and after lunch finished packing. Quarantine at 3:30, the Dr. boarded, counted noses. Adieu to Nic. According to instructions, stood on the gangplank until we docked and the luggage got off. I dressed for the party which had been in full swing since dinner. Had several glasses of champagne and walked on the beach. The firecrackers went off, the bells rang, and 1934 was gone.

The end

But wait! So many questions unanswered!! And no hope for a sequel. Did she say goodbye to the Dr? What happened on thae ‘heavy date’ with Nic the Engineer?? There’s truly no way to know. So we can only absorb what we have, and that is that she visited dynamic ports, breathed in salty sunsets, chewed a few rugs, soared in a seaplane, flirted unabashedly, bot cigars, drove in military escorts, drank tropical cocktails, and more…. and it all likely influenced her future, as she’d do this again in a few short years. And the next engineer wouldn’t be married.

by Mary James

9. Posture Parades, a Field Trip, a Binder Full of Family, & the 13 Colonies

I was wrapping up the ‘The Early Years’ section, with Helen exiting the U.S. for the first time in the early 1930s to voyage around Central America, but then two things happened. One Google thing, and the other a weekend upstate where Helen was born and spent summers.

Posture Parades

While Googling schools where Helen taught, I found a write up by her in a yearbook online. It declares, “Miss Helen Skinner, Director of Physical Education, Gulf Port College, Gulfport, writes, ‘Sailing, canoeing, surfboard riding, boat trips to Ship Island for swims in the surf, bicycle trips, long walks on the sea wall, picnics on the beach, moonlight horseback rides — these are some of the activities that make the Athletic Association at Gulf Park one of the most popular and important organizations on the campus. We are proud of our 100 per cent attendance…at our third Annual All-School Play Day…competition was keen and colorful in tennis, golf driving, ping-pong, deck tennis, horseshoe pitching, posture parade.’*

*Posture parade!

The below looks like she is dressed for one of those moonlight horseback rides, no?

Helen Skinner, 1936, Gulf Port College, Mississippi

A Field Trip, a Binder Full of Family, & the 13 Colonies

Charlton, New York, where Helen spent summers, have an historical society. I messaged them on Facebook. They wrote back, saying they would look into the names I mentioned.

I wrote again about a month later when I was planning a trip, asking if I could say hi. Unbeknownst to me, they had been digging deep into the families and had surfaced with a boat load of facts and connections going all the way back to Braintree, England in the 1500s. And found that the Skinners were settlers in the first 13 colonies.

They researched, typed, scanned, organized, printed, and presented it in a binder. It has copies of census records, wills, cemetery plots, inventories, property records, bibles, birth records, death records, etc. Thank you to Erin Miller at the Charlton Historical Society!

From the binder, in short… back in Braintree, England, in 1560ish, William Skinner worked as a yeoman (either the owner of a small amount of land or a high ranking servant). A generation or so later, the Skinners traveled across the Atlantic to live in the new Connecticut Colony (one of the 13 founding ones). John Skinner is a FOUNDER of Hartford, CT. He is even buried in the Ancient Burying Ground in Hartford. And a relative from a subsequent generation has a headstone there that’s still legible.

The Skinners moved to Upstate New York in the mid-1700s and stayed until 1904 (at least Helen’s family line) when they moved to Manhattan.

Behold this:

This is a will or inventory from John Skinner dated 1690. If I were a handwriting analyst I might say he was a bit dramatic.

In Charlton, I toured an old one room school house and church that has been turned into a museum with many items from around the time Helen was growing up. Below are two of the transportation options.

The Old Scotch Church is where Helen was made to go on Sundays. The church there now isn’t the original, due to fires, but we can pretend it is. The church is where she pilfered candies in the summer with her cousin Betty back in and around 1910. There’s a vivid description of their time at the church by a relative here.

There’s a cemetery catty corner from it filled with family names. Helen’s parents, Frank and Gertrude are buried side by side. See below.

Above are the gravestones of Helen’s parents. Though they moved from upstate to Manhattan to Brooklyn to New Jersey, here they are together near where they met.

The Skinner house is no longer, and the Mead house (where summers were spent) couldn’t be found.

Many thanks once again to Erin at the Charlton Historical Society!

Now we jump ahead to when Helen takes a break from Posture Parades to country-hop around the Caribbean and Central America.

by Mary James

8. Amelia Earhart Coincidences

Helen told friends that she’d lived in a dorm once inhabited by Amelia Earhart. I Googled about this. Amelia Earhart, who was six years older than Helen, attended Columbia University in 1919-1920. Helen was first at Columbia in 1920-1924 and then again in 1931. So it would have occurred in 1921-1924 or in 1931.

Another coincidence is that they both taught at Purdue in the same year — Earhart from 1935 to her disappearance in 1937, and Helen in 1936. Helen flew planes at Purdue 29 times in 1936 between June and July. And Amelia was uber famous by then. It is possible though that they weren’t there at the exact same time — Helen might have just been there for a summer semester and maybe Earhart didn’t stay for the summers.

Here is Helen at Purdue in 1936:

The back says, Helen, Purdue, Lafayette.
“Purdue University, Aerodrome” It was likely 1936.

Next up: Leaving familiar shores.

by Mary James

7. The Early Years, Phase II. (And a Moral: Always Look for Letters)

Helen didn’t have the final version of letters that she sent, but being such a detailed person (with foresight), she had drafted them first and kept the drafts (at least a few of them). And she had received some letters as well. There is one from her father, Frank Skinner, on wafer thin airmail paper, from 1940, about the family:

A ‘From Whence You Came’ Letter from Helen’s father, Frank Skinner, Sept, 6 1940

The evolution of Frank’s Skinner line, as he notes, ended with him. I like her father’s non-sequitur self-disparagement about Braintree and a lack of brains on the tree (though it is more a family-disparagement than a self one).

Frank and Gertrude Skinner, likely Arlington, New Jersey, 1940ish (around when the letter was written)

Halley’s Comet

The letter below doesn’t indicate to whom it was written or when, but based on the bit about Halley’s comet, it was after 1986, so she was at least 82. This is from Helen to someone who knew of Menands (where she was born, near Albany). To paraphrase:

Only once have I met anyone who knew where MENANDS NY is located.... My parents, Gertrude and Frank Skinner, took their daughter Helen to live in New York City when I was six months old.... One summer in the early thirties I drove through Menands on the way to somewhere else. So much for one’s old home town.

Side note: Somewhat strange that they moved from a super small town upstate New York to the great big Manhattan with a six month old baby. Perhaps for a job? Family? Regardless, when I picture the little family in NYC, I envision people dressed up in complicated looking long black attire with big hats, scurrying about super fast, like in those old choppy black and white videos.

I have never known where or how long we were in NY but next we moved to Brooklyn. The Skinners occupied the second floor of a house and mother’s brother Jack Bunyan, his wife Jessie and their new baby Betty had the lower floor. Two things I remember: There was a dumbwaiter which could be pulled up or down between the two kitchens and at some point Betty and I rode up and down on it (well supervised) to visit each other; 2) one night I recall mother taking me to the bathroom, closing the toilet lid and standing me up on it so I could look out the window (it was the only window on that side of the house) where the sky was bright as day -- a blazing light. She said to me ‘remember this: you’ve seen Halley’s Comet, and it won’t be back for 75 years.” I regret that while I was still around for the comet’s next appearance, it was performing in the Southern Hemisphere, and I missed it.

Side note: I’m not sure where the dumbwaiter duplex was other than it was in Brooklyn. Haley’s comet made appearances in April 1910 and April 1986. She would have been seven for the first one, 82 for the next. The next next one is in 2061, fwiw. And I love the imagery of the comet ‘performing’ in the Southern Hemisphere, like it was on tour.

The Bunyans and Skinners bought houses next to each other at XXX and XXX Stratford Rd. Our two backyards fenced around the outside made a wonderful playing space. The back of our lots faced on Coney Island Ave where streetcars went to that destination and in summer... Bathing suits were jumper like garments which came just below the knee, elbow length sleeves, black bloomers and black stockings and sneakers.

Side notes: Stratford Road is south of Prospect Park and is now the Flatbush/Kensington neighborhood of Brooklyn. Zillow told me the house remaining (one was an empty lot) was still the original house, so the same one that she (or Betty) lived in. 

I went to Kindergarten at PS 139 (rah rah rah the rose and the pine. Long live, long live 139).

Side note: This school exists and operates and is a few blocks north of the house on Stratford Road. Some sleuthing shows it was built in 1902. And I hope that is still their fight song.

The school looks like an old East Coast educational facility, and one that I imagine is purported to be haunted. It was built in 1902 and it looks old, so some of it must be original.

P.S. 139, Brooklyn, New York, 2021, at 11:20am ET

Draft Letter II – this letter was written by Helen in the late 1970s. The draft letter is five and a half handwritten pages and details family history from early 1800s – 1990s, but only a little is about her childhood and I’ll just include that (for now…). After a quick intro, she starts:

I never had the slightest interest in ancestors until most of the people died who might have helped to fill the family tree... However, if you prefer to have your ear bent, I’ll bring you up to date on the ones I know. In 1916-18 I went to St Paul Minn to stay with my mother’s half-sister Mary Mead Cavert, while I was in my first 2 years of high school. I then returned to Brooklyn to graduate from Erasmus Hall High in 1920.

Side note: This was not a short trip. It’s an 18 hour drive by today’s standards. Erasmus Hall High is still standing.

I don’t know where you dreamed up ‘at college in Missouri’ for I went to Columbia in NYC - I admit I wasn’t home very much, for I lived in a dorm, camp in the summer, I was a counsellor at varsity camps.

Side note: this is the only time she mentioned Columbia, and I still think it’s strange she didn’t brag more about it. She says the family moved to Arlington, New Jersey in 1920, which is when Helen started college and never went back home to live. I’m not sure if the cousin’s family moved with them so they could continue being neighbors.

The letter picks up again in the late 1930s and everyone will have to wait to hear about that.

Online Account – a remembrance of things past

Through Googling, I found a bit more nostalgia about young Helen. The material is from Chapter 6 of a book called The Mead Family, written by Jane Mitchell (the names Mead, Cavert, and Bunyan all appear — all on the mother’s side). Helen contributed to the book, and writes about her time with her cousin and bestie Betty:

Betty was known to her best friends as Lizzie Smellie Onion (her full name was Elizabeth Smeallie Bunyan). We were brought up almost as twins. We would shout between our houses (we didn’t have a phone) “What are you going to wear?’ by way of starting the day. She was in our house as much as in her own. We spent many summers at the Mead farm until I was sent off to St. Paul for 2 years in 1917.1

Smellie Onion is a very fun nickname (Betty is the girl scowling in the pictures in the last post, but that she allowed her best friends to call her smelly onion indicates she did indeed like fun). The pictures of the kids in the last post were taken at this Mead farm in West Charlton, New York. Betty comes up later in Helen’s story as well, and it seems they stayed very close (not geographically though).

I recommend that you to read the description of the Scotch church in the link above. It paints a picture of a colorful congregation in their Sunday best, crooning away to hymnals in a small old musty house of god, with Helen and Betty pilfering candies and trying not squirm. You can kind of picture it (and smell it).1

Now we will move onwards and upwards to the 1930s (literally upwards, as there are airplanes).

References

1 – http://charltonnyhs.org/2017_Mary%20Mead%20Cavert.pdf

by Mary James

6. Helen – The Socials, The Box, and The Early Years, Phase I

The Early Years are broken down into two phases — Phase I is the ‘Going through all the documents in order…’ phase.

Exhibit I The Birth Certificate

Certificate and Record of Birth, Helen Grace Skinner, Born Sept 7, 1903 in Menands, New York

Helen was born September, 7, 1903 near Albany, New York. As you will see at the bottom of the document, this is a ‘true copy (photostatio)’ – I cannot find the word ‘photostatio’ even in Google, but the document looks to be an official mimeograph, ordered in 1935, with a raised seal and stamp on the back that says in red “New York State, Received 3 Aug 1904, Department of Health.” .

But Menands, noted above, is in Upstate New York near Albany.

The document says, at the time of her birth, her father, Frank Skinner, from Charlton, New York, was a 31 year old Civil Engineer; and her mother, Gertrude Skinner (nee Bunyan), from Saratoga, New York, was 27. Helen was their first child.

The tiny picture that accompanies the birth certificate at the bottom, which had become unglued, must have been part of a photoshoot that also produced the pictures below, as her shirt and hairdo are the same.

Exhibit II: Baby Photos

Gertrude and Helen Skinner, early 1904. Note Helen’s stylish middle part. It says ‘Age 5 Mo’ in the bottom corner.

A baby book, titled ‘Baby’s Red Letter Days’, also includes a picture from the same photo shoot along with lists detailing milestones and such.

Exhibit III: Baby’s Red Letter Days

A page from Helen’s baby book. They lived at the time on Brookside Ave in Menande, NY., very close to Albany (and close to both Charlton and Saratoga, where her parents were from, respectively)

A look inside the baby book:

Pages from Helen’s baby book, completed by her mother, Gertrude, 1903-1904

Some of the notes inside include (with punctuation/spelling intact):

  • Christmas Has Come – “Went to Ballston to spend the day. Very good girl all day.”
    • Side note: It’s hard to be very good all day, even for adults.
  • Short Clothes – February 24, 1904 – “our Baby dons short cloths”
    • Side note: In the baby book, ‘Short Clothes’ has its own page like the ones above, but with illustrations that look like mini adult clothing.
  • Cute Sayings – “At the age of 19 mos Helen exclaims to the astonishment of Dady and Mother, “Oh, my sakes.'”
    • Side note: this is adorable, proper and intelligent, all with a hint of theatrics.

The more juicy stuff is housed in the back of the booklet in a section called ‘Mother’s Notes’:

  • Feb 15 – First played with rubber ball intelligently
    • Side note: my high standards theory, validated
  • At 7 1/2 months Helen begins to say da-da-da and ma-ma-ma-ma and ba-ba-ba
    • Side note: Google says this would give her an A+, age-wise
  • At 8 months Helen can get around on the floor quite well. She does not creep but hitches along
    • Side note: hitching, I learned, means kind of crawling but with one foot on the ground that is pulling the body forward, and it’s something that is corrected today
  • June 29 – I find my baby standing behind my chair
    • Side note: if worth noting it must have been a milestone and/or startling
  • Helen begins to be very orderly. At age of 14 1/2 mos she picks up her daddys slippers and shoes and puts them in the closet and shuts the door
    • Side note: an astrology minded person would say she was a Virgo through and through
  • 18 mos – Helen gets loaf of bread and knife and comes upstairs and says ‘piece’
    • Side note: this might also be startling

What was the world like then, outside of Menands, New York? Some highlights: Teddy Roosevelt was president; the Ford Motor Company formed and released the Model A (also known as a horseless carriage); the first silent film was released; and, more apropos to Helen’s future, The Wright Brothers had their first flight on the Kitty Hawk. And refrigeration and electricity were not yet widespread. In other words, it was a long time ago (at least in American terms).

There are two pictures of houses in with the childhood photos.

Phase I, Exhibit III: House Pictures

Skinner Homestead, Charlton, N.Y.

The back of the picture of states:

Back of photo of Skinner Homestead, Charlton, N.Y. picture.

The house above was where her father grew up (and many Skinner generations before him). The Van Dam Hotel in Saratoga, Springs, N.Y. mentioned above, still stands, but under a different name.

The other house picture:

Henry Mead Home – West Charlton, N.Y.

The 2nd house was owned by some combination of different branches of her mother’s side of the family, with names such as Mead, Smeallie, Cavert, and Bunyan. The back of the picture (which is actually an unsent postcard), says “Helen Skinner (and later Mary), and Betty Bunyan spent summers on the farm until it was sold in 1918. Grandma Mead moved to Brooklyn and lived with The Skinner Family.”

Phase I, Exhibit IV: People Pictures

This is the only other baby picture of Helen, and it’s a cutey.

Back says: Helen Skinner. [This was likely 1904 in Menands, N.Y.]

Maybe the clothes in the picture above are Short Clothes, even though they are long? That little sweater looks quite sophisticated. I can’t tell what the black thing is to the left of her. I first thought a loom and then perhaps a croquet set stand.

Then jump forward a few years and there are three more pictures. The first one isn’t labeled except for her name, but she looks maybe eight?

Helen Skinner, circa 1911

I thought the above might be a school uniform, but nixed that idea after some Googling. But what I did find is that it was a sailor dress popular in around 1910, made by the designer Peter Thompson. So she was on trend.

Pictures of Helen, her sister Mary, cousins, and grandmothers – West Charlton, N.Y., likely 1913

Both of the above pictures were taken at the 2nd house in West Charlton, NY. The cute little girl with the bowl cut is Helen’s sister. Helen is the taller of the older girls (the one not in stripes). The other girl and little boy are their cousins, Betty and George Bunyan. The two women are Grannie Janie and Grandma Mead (one from each side of the family).

Betty looks unhappy in both pictures, but I was assured they were best of friends and partners in crime for decades.

And that was all I had from the childhood years based on chronology. Later I found a trove of additional detail.

Next up: The Early Years, Phase II.