Chapter 35
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
Van and I settled into the guest room for another night of platonic comfort. As long as Van was not completely recovered from his wound, we would have to settle for comfort however tempting unplatonic bliss might be. Still, comfort had its pleasures, especially our nightly talks about music, our families, our future, or any topic under the sun that struck us as interesting.
Van was in a very good mood as he settled under the covers on the solid wood frame bed where I had been born thirty-six years earlier. It seemed like a good time to bring up a subject that I had been holding off on discussing. I admitted to reading what the Anarchist and Trotskyite papers were saying about the Communists in Spain. I wasn't sure how much of what they were saying to believe, but if even half of it were true, the Spanish Republic had some serious problems.
Van listened gravely and then confirmed that NKVD agents were allowed to operate freely in the Republic and even run private prisons. There was little doubt that they had tortured and even murdered political opponents. There was an attempt to keep knowledge of that sort of thing from the International Brigades not to mention the world at large. However, you could learn a lot in Spain if you spoke the language and kept your ears open. "Don't get me wrong. Stalin's Communists have influence in the Republic, but they don't rule it and never have. They get away with a lot because the Republic is dependent on the Soviet Union for so much of its arms and supplies. However, the regular army and most people in the Republic who aren't Communists despise them."
"And you?"
"The only Communists for whom I have any respect," Van answered bitterly, "are the ones who stood shoulder to shoulder with me when the bullets were flying … and the ones who cared for the wounded. The rest can go straight to hell. I'm not the only one in the International Brigades who feels that way. Some of us deserted when we had the chance. I won't deny that sometimes I felt tempted to join them."
What he was telling me was a glimpse into a world of soldiers in a troubled land that I instinctively knew I would never truly understand without experiencing it myself. Nonetheless, in spite of the shock I felt, something compelled me to try. "Why didn't you?"
He spoke lightly, but there was a hint of grave thoughtfulness at the edges of his smile. "My men needed someone to look after them and the fascists wouldn't have quit just because I did."
As we continued to talk, it became obvious that Van's disdain of the higher echelons of the Communist Party particularly included Andre Marty who he described as "a paranoid monster. He sees Trotskyites and fifth columnists around every corner, so he terrorizes the International Brigades with spy hunts and executions on the slightest suspicion of disloyalty. Fortunately, he's mostly laid off the Lincolns and the Mac-Paps because he's afraid of bad publicity here and in the states."
I had heard rumors about Marty also, but having Van confirm them was still unsettling. "And you had to fight for a commander like him for over a year."
Van gave me a stern but not angry look. "I fought under him, but never for him."
From the Journal of Honey Sutton Mar. 21, 1938
Joe dropped in out of the blue late Saturday night. Apparently, one of my brother's fighters had been on the ticket in Northbridge earlier in the evening, so he nipped up here for a quick visit. David Doyle and two of their fighters, including the one on the Northbridge ticket, joined him the next day. We all had Sunday dinner together. David was curious to see his near double and the two of them together made an astonishing sight. He and Van look more like brothers than Van and his real brother.
It was interesting, if a little gruesome to hear them compare injuries. Apparently, David's symptoms from the beating he took in his last fight were similar to those from Van's shrapnel wound if somewhat less severe. David admitted that he had been angry with the doctor for telling him that he had to stop fighting if he didn't want to risk permanent brain damage or worse and with Joe for agreeing with the doctor. However, he was now grateful for Joe's threat to spread the word to his fellow fight managers about the diagnosis if he tried to look for someone else to manage him.
It hadn't been easy to face the end of his fight career, but Joe had been right in saying that the most important thing a fighter can know about the ring is when to walk away. At least training younger fighters and seeing them develop has been tremendously satisfying. He is very proud of how well they've done.
He mentioned later that Van would have been proud if he could have seen everything Grace did for him and his comrades last summer, not just raising money, but speaking up for them. The love and gratitude in the smile Van turned on Grace were more beautiful than any poem. "I've been proud of this woman ever since she consented to be my wife."
… With Mother Bailey's reluctant consent, Maisie put more life in the evening by demonstrating the difference between Teddy Wilson's elegant style of jazz piano playing and the more exuberant stride school favored by Fats Waller on Grace's baby grand. I can't say that I'm a jazz fan. My favorite pianist is still Eddie Duchin. I could let the sweet waves of his playing wash over me forever. Still, Fats Waller hides some beautiful melodies under his flood of notes and Teddy Wilson has an agreeable ease. After dinner, Joe made an announcement that floored all of us. He and Julie were engaged.
… There was more good news today. Van had an encouraging report from Dr. Barlow. His eyesight and peripheral vision are almost normal. The dizziness and headaches from sudden movements are much less than they were. Dr. Barlow thinks that Van is on the way to a full recovery. There was even some good news for him from Spain. According to Herbert Matthews of the New York Times, the XVth International Brigade, including the Abraham Lincoln Battalion and the Mac-Paps, escaped the fall of Caspe and remains intact, although there have been casualties.
Grace Mainwaring to Sally Henry March 22, 1938
Marjorie sends her love. You should have seen her oohing and ahing at the latest pictures of your darling children over lunch today. Of course, she doesn't think they are as adorable as her Jacob, but she was impressed.
Jacob's grandparents would certainly second her opinion of him, especially Lorna Macfarlane. He is the light of her life right now with her husband Gene unable to find his way out of the bottle and her children living away from New Bedford. To see how friendly she is with Ollie and Marjorie these days, you would never know that she was initially opposed to Alice giving her child to them to raise.
She had legitimate reasons. It won't be easy for Jacob growing up in a small town where everyone knows that his mother wasn't married when she had him. However, he couldn't have more loving adoptive parents and the way Marjorie's parents, sister, and nephews have also accepted him as one of their own is heartwarming.
Lorna dropped by while Marjorie and I were talking. While not wildly enthusiastic at seeing me there, she managed to be reasonably polite. I think since I've been lending Alice money to go to secretarial school, she has started to realize that my family doesn't actually have it in for hers.
Speaking of noses and Marjorie's nephews, Alec's nose has been pressed tight to the grindstone lately. Libby has taken Max's warning that he needs to work harder in history class if he wants to graduate in May seriously. She's making him stay at his grandparents' house after school, so she knows that he'll be studying until she finishes work. His brother has never needed to be told to study.
All those years of waiting tables at the tearoom since her husband died in order to support her boys can't have been easy, but Libby can be proud of how well they are turning out. I can't imagine what it takes to bring up even one child without a husband and father to help. I doubt I could do it myself.
I also can't imagine what it takes to make a dent in Mr. Graham's objections to working women. Before the board meeting this morning, he said with perfect cheerfulness that he hoped that now that Van was back and recovering from his wound, he'd lay down the law about me working. I told him that Van and I don't have that kind of marriage. We agree on the law between us.
Next Week: Movers and shakers. Prize interviews.
