Chapter 44

From the Journal of Maisie McGinty Apr. 21, 1938

Grace has been dropping hints for days that Pritchard and I ought to become an item. I hate to disappoint her, but Pritchard's smile doesn't make my heart spin like a top and his touch doesn't make me weak-at-the knees. Being with him just feels comfortable. When I told Grace that today, she just smiled and said that some of the best romances have started as friendships. She winced when her mother innocently asked, "like you and Ollie?"

"Maybe I had a little trouble seeing the difference between romance and friendship with him," Grace admitted, "but that doesn't mean Maisie's situation is the same."

"Of course not, dear," Mrs. Bailey answered knowingly. "She obviously knows her mind better than you did."

Grace rolled her eyes. "Think what you like. I still say that if love is meant to be, it will find a way."

I couldn't see that opening my trap would make things any better, so I didn't. I had to admire the elegance of what Grace was trying to do. If her matchmaking worked, Hub would have a clear road to the priesthood, Pritchard and I would be happy together, and Henry would have Rebecca to himself.

Everything would be neatly sorted out. Everybody would be in clover except maybe Rebecca, but I think she'd get used to having only one boyfriend eventually. I just wish I knew how to make my heart stop wanting Hub or Pritchard's stop wanting Rebecca.

Grace Mainwaring to Sally Henry Apr. 22, 1938

… My day at CRNB began with the most terrifying words I could possibly hear from Callie Cramp. "I just had a brainstorm, a wonderful new idea for a live remote broadcast."

I just stood there trying not to tremble in fear as awful memories of previous live remotes raced through my reeling brain. There was the one from the center ring of Merritt Bros. circus. No one told me Mauritz the Magnificent was going to introduce me to his lions. I don't know how I actually managed to pet Bjorn even with Mauritz keeping a tight grip on his head. I just wish he hadn't yawned afterwards, the lion, not Mauritz.

Who knew lions had so many teeth? Of course, Mrs. Cramp made it even worse by suggesting that the lion seemed friendly and maybe wouldn't mind if I put my head in its jaws. Thank goodness Mauritz was magnificent enough to explain that that trick was only for experienced animal trainers.

I admit that a number of live remotes have actually gone well. However, I remain firmly convinced that those were just fate's way of lulling me into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under my feet again. I remember all too well the profile of the New Bedford Fire Department that almost ended with half of New Bedford burning to the ground.

I managed to throw myself out of the way before the volunteers turned on the fire hose only to land on a splotch of freshly leaked engine oil. So much for one of my favorite dresses. I hope Mother followed my advice afterwards to buy more fire insurance for the house and her other properties in town.

As Mrs. Cramp explained her new idea, I could see that the dread I was feeling was entirely justified. She wanted me to interview Reenie Bigelow on her father's campaign button and poster collection. I tried to decline on the grounds that Reenie has been a bit under the weather lately.

"You mean she's been drinking," Mrs. Cramp countered. "I promise that if she shows any signs of being sloshed, we won't go through with the interview. I'll have Jim Flett standing by to do a science segment at the station if anything goes wrong."

I still wasn't convinced that what she proposed was a good idea. She refused to be deterred. "You know it's a great subject for a profile. Her father had items going back to Mackenzie and MacDonald. I'll do the interview myself if I have to, but it would be perfect for you."

I was backed into a corner. You have no idea how bad an interviewer Mrs. Cramp is. She has a hard time telling the difference between a microphone and a backyard fence with Myrt Dumphry or Pearl Disher on the other side waiting to spill the latest tittle-tattle. Letting her interview Reenie Bigelow, especially about Reenie's father, was unthinkable.

Roger Bigelow and Mrs. Cramp got along like cats and dogs. Not that that was all Mrs. Cramp's fault. You remember what he was like, the kind of man's man who could be overbearing to women who weren't meek and compliant, but especially to women who were.

Poor Reenie was as meek as a mouse when he was alive, and she's seemed completely lost since he died. It's awful that alcohol is the only support and comfort she has been able to find. I didn't think that Mrs. Cramp would hint at that fact, but you understand why I couldn't take that chance.

Poor Reenie suffered enough because of her father when he was alive. Regardless, I intended to hold Mrs. Cramp to her promise. Reenie's tippling wouldn't become a public spectacle if I could help it.

I was relieved to smell no alcohol on Reenie's breath when I arrived to set up the remote. I started to relax. Maybe Mrs. Cramp's crazy idea would turn out well after all. I should have remembered that Reenie's tongue sometimes has a life of its own independent of her brain, even at her most sober.

The disaster began when a Laurier button from 1911 caught her attention. She was reminded of Allen Frye who ran for MP as a Liberal Party candidate. "He visited every town in the riding by wagon and used the wagon for a speaking platform. That way, he could hold outdoor meetings if the weather was good. He gave a speech here in New Bedford on reciprocity under the old water tower. Didn't your brother Jack climb that once on a dare? I'm forgetting. Allen Frye. The speech. The wagon. Some boys set off a couple of firecrackers under the horses."

I could see where Reenie was going and frantically shook my head while mouthing the word no. However, she was in full flight and paid no attention. "I heard that Calvin Greeley was one of them. So was his friend Phil Hamlin. They were such terrors back then."

Mrs. Cramp was staring at Reenie in horror by this point. Greeley's Grocery and Hamlin's Hardware are two of CRNB's best advertisers. I hope that's still true. Reenie continued happily. "The horses galloped away with Mr. Frye wagon and all. He kept talking until he was almost out of earshot. That was the fastest I've ever seen a politician finish a speech in my life."

If only that had been the worst of it. Reenie noticed a 1917 Borden campaign ribbon. God spare Canada another year like that. I know that looking back on the loss and bitterness is even more painful for you than it is for me. What was happening on the battlefields was bad enough, but we Canadians can't blame the Germans for the anger and hate that divided our country before, during and after the election. We did that to ourselves.

French Canadians failed to recognize the seriousness of the war and too many English Canadians promoted the shameful idea that only British born or descended Protestants were true Canadians. Reenie described the campaign ribbon in vivid detail so that our radio audience could envision it. If she had stopped there, everything would have been alright, but she didn't. "Your mother wore one of these when she gave that ferocious speech for Borden and the Union government. It's adorable how she dotes on her Catholic grandchildren and ward." Throat cutting motions this time which she also ignored. "You'd never know that she said that French Canadians opposed conscription because as Catholics, they were … "

I tried to stop her. "That was over twenty years ago."

Unfortunately, when Reenie starts following a conversational thread, not even blasting can throw her off the trail. Instead of taking my protest to heart, she brightened. "Now I remember, 'foolish dupes of a superstitious, ignorant, and unpatriotic church.'"

May Bailey to Jessie Buchanan Apr. 23, 1938

How right the Bible is. Our sins do indeed find us out. Seeing the disappointment in my grandchildren's eyes when I came to apologize was painful. Thank heaven their mother understands that even though I still believe that French-Canadians were wrong to oppose conscription, I have moderated my views on the Catholic Church in the past twenty years.

I still disagree with it on some matters of theology and now, obviously, about Spain. However, I have learned that many Catholics, and not just the ones to whom I am related, are good people. I have seen several try their best to live up to Our Lord's teaching that we should love our neighbors and treat others with the kindness and decency with which we ourselves wish to be treated. When I look back at how I once treated even members of my own family because of my former prejudices against Catholics and Catholicism, I am deeply ashamed. Fortunately, with Honey's help, I was able to explain this to my grandchildren, especially Zack and Violet.

Next week: An unwanted compliment. Reconciliation. Wanderin' Zeke returns.