Chapter 1
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
It isn't often that I find myself nostalgic for the days of my youth, lived as they were in the shadow of the Great Depression, the rise of fascism, two world wars, and my domineering mother. Throw in a few family tragedies and a love life that all too frequently felt like one catastrophe after another and most days the comparative peace of my old age seems very inviting. Still, there are moments when a scent, a turn of phrase, or a glimpse of a dear face in a black and white photograph sets me reminiscing. Past joys and kindnesses and the sharing of them that made them all the sweeter come flooding back. At such moments, I can understand why so many of us cling so fiercely in our old age to times that will never return.
The one time above all others that affects me this way is the Christmas season. The presence of rejoicing amid the chill of winter is a needed reminder that even in the darkest of times life is not all hardship and sorrow. It is always a treat to have so many of my loved ones visit. However, even in their welcome company, my mind turns sooner or later to friends and family recently and long since departed. Honey, Max, Jack, Bob, my parents, Toppy, Ollie, and so many others fill my thoughts. Sometimes, I glance at Van's photograph on the mantle. The sight of him, handsome and vigorous in the uniform of the Abraham Lincoln Battalion, is all it takes to carry me back to a time when one of his infectious grins could make my heart flutter like a sparrow. For a moment that same heart casts off weariness and forgets that it is no younger than the aged, wrinkled body that contains it. I think back to the day Van first came into my life, and more than fifty years vanish as though they had never been.
Grace Bailey to Sally Henry, April 1, 1936
… I have just had the most bewildering April Fool's Day. Toppy and I were just leaving CRNB for lunch at the tearoom in the New Bedford Inn. Jim Flett came up to us on the sidewalk. Right then and there, he finally got around to talking seriously to me about the two of us. As you know, I have become very fond of him over this past year. When we had that beautiful moment together last Valentine's Day, it seemed as though our friendship could possibly grow into something more. Unfortunately, what he had to say was not what I hoped to hear. He told me that it was still too soon after the death of his wife and that he just didn't feel ready to make the kind of commitment to us that he felt I deserved. I could feel my heart drop to the pavement when he suggested that we let things cool off between us for a while.
I don't mind admitting that as he walked away I was confused and hurt. I knew that he could be timid and hesitant at times, but not to this degree. I wondered if there wasn't something wrong with me. What kind of a woman loses four boyfriends in as many years? Still, it wasn't my fault that Judd Wainwright jilted me after rekindling our old romance or that Del Sutton wouldn't reply to my letters after he had to leave town to find a new job. On the other hand, I still feel ashamed whenever I think of the look of heartbreak on Ollie Jefferson's face after I finally got up the nerve to admit to him that I could only care for him as a friend. That's no way to treat someone you've known since third grade.
That was when things got goofy even for April Fool's Day. A stranger with looks like a movie star came running across the street towards me from Ollie's Garage. The first things I noticed were his broad shoulders and his slightly tousled blonde hair. It was only after he stopped right in front of me and stayed still for a second that the look of astonishment and embarrassment on his boyishly handsome face came into focus.
I have to admit that the awkward sincerity with which he asked me if I believed in love at first sight was very appealing. I was even touched a little by what I saw in his warm blue eyes as he told me that he thought it was happening to him. It was a look of joy and surprise as though he had found something precious which he had thought was lost forever. I felt just as surprised when I accepted his dinner invitation later that day. Don't think for a second that I'm getting sappy over a crazy man whom I just met. I know his company may not be the best thing for me, but it can't be worse than sitting around moping over yet another failed romance. His name is Van Mainwaring. …
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
I still wonder what would have happened if I had tried to talk Jim Flett out of his decision to break off with me. Would he have reconsidered? What if he had? My life as a science teacher's wife would certainly have been far easier and less turbulent than the one that lay ahead of me. There are so many moments in a lifetime when one different action or circumstance can change everything. Perhaps this was one such, but it was over. There was no going back.
I had no way of knowing when I first noticed Van running towards me that the last days of my youth were about to begin. They were days when the glory and the misery of life were at their most intense. They lifted my heart up like notes of song and dashed it down like an angel cast out of heaven. They took from me much that I had cherished but gave me much that I cherish still. I did not always live them as well or as wisely as I could have, but they were the days of a life and not empty motion waiting for time to bring it to a halt. For that I have no regrets.
May Bailey to Jessie Buchanan April 14, 1936
It is beyond me how Grace could have become so smitten with this insufferable American in less than two weeks that she wants to marry him. John Bailey took the better part of a year to court me before we became engaged. Yes, we both knew within a week that we were right for each other, but back then this sort of thing was done properly. There was none of this unseemly modern rush to the altar that usually ends in a quicker and even more unseemly rush to the divorce court.
I will admit that this Vanaver Mainwaring has a certain charisma and polish when he isn't being unbearably impudent to me. However, these things, even in tandem with wealth and good looks, are not enough to make him a suitable husband for my daughter. John Bailey was always a little rough and ready on the surface, but there was a good heart and an honest soul underneath. I wish I could be sure that the same things are in this new beau of Grace's. She deserves no less.
Grace Bailey to Sally Henry April 14, 1936
… How can Mother be so infuriating? She's improved so much since Jack brought his family back to New Bedford in the summer of 1932 and everything began to change for all of us. She took his children, Hub, Fat, and Violet, into her heart. She eventually accepted Honey as part of the family. After Jack died, she came to terms with Honey's remarriage to the boys' teacher Max Sutton. She even accepted their new baby Zack as an honorary grandson. Of course, it helped that Max is the original stand up guy. He was magnificent this past year, looking after the kids while Honey was recovering from her lung trouble at the sanatorium. I was so proud of Mother when she arranged for Honey's care and paid her bills.
I was even more proud of her when she took Maisie McGinty into her home as her ward after her longtime friend and Maisie's grandfather Leo McGinty died. My engagement to Van may be sudden, but she should at least give him a fair chance. She has no right to treat him as though he were some shady character hiding a terrible secret. Still, she doesn't believe that my job as a producer and announcer at CRNB means that I'm serious about work, so why would she believe that I'm serious about marriage.
I suppose that eventually she'll come to see that there is more to Van than money and charm and stop being irritated by his refusal to be cowed by her. It always takes her awhile to let go of her conviction that she alone knows what's best for everyone else, especially me. Van is so easy to talk to. We hadn't even finished the appetizer at our first dinner at the New Bedford Inn Tearoom before I was telling him about how hard I had tried in the past four years to make a life as my own person and not my mother's unpaid housekeeper. Working at CRNB and moving out of Mother's house have really made me feel self-sufficient.
Van listened avidly to what I told him of the ins and outs of radio work. He paid me the compliment of saying that I'm a capable and intelligent woman, not like the social butterflies he usually meets. Even more, he understands my need for independence. He has an overbearing parent of his own. He wanted to be a financier, but his father insisted that he make a career in the army. Apparently, there is a tradition of Mainwarings in the U.S. military going back to the American Revolution. Van refused to be part of it. I can see him now telling me that, "if there's one thing I'm never going to be as long as I live, it's a soldier."
When Van couldn't be moved, his father only paid for his university education at Yale out of duty and never spoke to him again after he graduated. Even worse, the man used his influence in high finance to try to keep Van from getting a job. Apparently, he hoped that unemployment would drive his son into the military if nothing else would. Isn't that awful? I didn't think that there could possibly be another parent in the world more unreasonable than my mother, but apparently there is. Van didn't do too badly as an investment advisor once he finally got some traction after his first year out of Yale. He actually managed to avoid losing too much in the 1929 stock market crash and even made money during the depression afterwards.
You would think that someone who's had his kind of success and can afford every luxury would be happy as a clam, but you would be wrong. He confided to me that in the past few years he has become more and more disenchanted with his way of living. Two days after our first meeting as we walked along the river, he said, "what was adventurous and exciting at twenty-one seems rootless and hollow at thirty-five. When I look at my life, I ask myself what I've actually accomplished. I don't make anything. I don't build anything. I just move money around so that some of it ends up in the pockets of myself and my associates. I can't help wondering what I would leave behind if I were to drop dead tomorrow. You and your family have built not just a business but an entire town. All you and your mother have to do to see dozens of people whose lives you've bettered is walk down the street."
"That was mostly my parents' doing," I contradicted him. "I was president of the Silverdome Mining Company for a short time, but only as a figurehead to reassure the bank and the public while Mother recovered from an illness."
"You underrate yourself. From what I've heard from people who should know, you displayed a fair amount of intelligence, dedication, and business acumen."
"I'm afraid most of that compliment belongs to my advisors, George Murphy and the late Leo McGinty. They were first rate."
"I'm sure they were, but the ability to listen to good advice may be the most important skill you can have in business. For instance, I'm looking at a number of possible business opportunities-mines, factories, a lumber mill. I would be very grateful for your thoughts on their potential to become something like the Silverdome."
Afterwards, when Van wasn't showering me with kisses and compliments and importing Gypsy violinists to serenade me, we talked over the possible business enterprises he mentioned. By the way, forget what the movie magazines say about "the kiss that kills." His kisses make me want to live forever. We looked over prospectuses and other documentation. I asked questions and offered suggestions. I admit that I was flattered by his confidence in me and impressed by his determination to make something better of his life. The more we considered the possibilities before us, the more something like a future began to take shape. Were you this excited when you and Mark were planning a life together in the days before he changed your name from Brewster to Henry?
Just three days ago, Van told me that all he needed to make his dream of a more useful and worthwhile life perfect was someone to share it with. Someone warm and loving and true, but also challenging with a mind of her own. Someone with whom he could share a lifelong romance and a partnership between equals. My heart echoed the longing in his eyes when he said, "Am I dreaming to think that something like that could ever be real?"
There was only one answer I could give him. "If you are, I'm dreaming too."
Robert Bailey to Grace Bailey April 16, 1936
… I wouldn't miss seeing my little sister get married for the world. I'll be there on whatever date you set even if I have to stay at the New Bedford Inn instead of at home. I appreciate your efforts to get Mother to forgive me for going to work for Hugo Gerrard after I left New Bedford. He shouldn't have tried to take the Silverdome Mine and the Bas Lake nickel strike away from the family. However, that is the past and he has abided by his promise not to interfere with the family business interests again. I wish it were enough for Mother that if this weren't the case, I wouldn't work for him no matter how generous the compensation he offers.
I have tried to be a better person. I returned to New Bedford last fall to apologize to Toppy for my shabby treatment of her. I made it clear that I was willing to go back to our original agreement to wait until a case could be made for desertion for our divorce to be finalized. Mother can hardly blame me for the fact that Toppy decided to go through with a quick divorce for adultery anyway so Doris wouldn't have to spend any more time as the girl whose parents were getting divorced.
I still can't believe that you started the whole thing by taking a train all the way to Montreal to confront me. I hardly recognized the holy terror with fire in her eye who told me that she was tired of making excuses for me and of always being the peacemaker between me and the rest of the family when I behaved badly. I couldn't see any sign of the timid girl always in her mother's shadow that I remember from before I left New Bedford. It shook me to the core to realize that you meant it when you said that I could forget about ever seeing you again if I didn't treat Toppy decently.
So did my Diana telling me after overhearing us that her love for me was no longer enough to make her go along with things she knew in her heart were wrong. I felt lower than dirt when she told me that if this was how I treated my first family she wasn't sure she wanted to start a second with me. There are moments in life when a man has to face up to the worst in himself and do something about it. That was one of them. If you hadn't lit a fire under me, I'm not sure that I would have done the right thing or that I would be married to Diana today. Thank you for that. I truly hope that this Vanaver Mainwaring makes you as happy as Diana has made me. …
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
I was pleased that Bob was willing to come to my wedding and very appreciative. It hadn't been easy for him to return to New Bedford since he left with Toppy and Doris after resigning his position with the Silverdome Mining Company. Most of the townspeople, not without some justice, blamed his impatience and heedlessness for the explosion at the mine that took Gene MacFarlane's sight. Their hostility made it impossible for him to stay. I wish that they could have known how deeply he regretted that mistake or understood the tremendous pressure he was under at the time to find a new vein of ore to keep the mine from closing.
Running the Silverdome Mining Company has never been an easy task. Having to return to that job after Bob's departure didn't do anything to help Mother's poor health. She performed magnificently and saved the business from the bank once again. However, I am sure the strain contributed to the stroke she suffered while Van and I were enjoying our honeymoon in the wake of a hasty elopement. I wish I had been more patient with her efforts to run our wedding to suit herself however unreasonable her objections were to my choice of venue, my wedding gown, and my intention to invite Bob. I had no idea how frail she really was.
Van was wonderful about cutting our honeymoon short so that we could return to be with her. Honey, Max, Maisie, Toppy, and the rest of the family rallied round. Bob wasn't with us. When Toppy asked him over the phone to come, he told her that Mother had made it very clear just a few days earlier that she didn't want to see him again even at my wedding. I wasn't sure that I wanted to see him again when my repeated efforts to make him aware of the seriousness of Mother's condition failed. However, when she began to recover, he did visit New Bedford and made one more attempt to reconcile with her. When she rejected his overtures yet again, I almost despaired of her. There are times, especially times of trial, when stubbornness can be the Bailey family's greatest virtue. However, there are also times when it can be our most terrible vice.
Grace Mainwaring to Sally Henry July 20, 1936
… Van has been very understanding about my making a short trip home on my own to check in on Mother. …At first, I wasn't sure that Juanita Bascombe's therapy would be helpful for mother, but she is making excellent progress. The fact that Juanita is a Negro caused a stir in certain quarters here. There hasn't been a Negro living in New Bedford since before the Great War. As far as I am concerned, Juanita can stay here for as long as her work requires. She is a decent person and any nurse who has the nerve and stamina to stand up to my mother is worth her weight in gold. I strongly suspect Dr. Barlow of recommending her for just that reason.
I remember mother telling him a couple of years or so back, "the medical profession is a conspiracy of quacks who delight in making their patients as miserable as possible and overcharging them for the privilege." He replied, "If I judged patients by you, Mrs. Bailey, I would say they were all unreasonable curmudgeons who believe that they can get well without proper rest or treatment." When Dr. Gregory retired, I would have sworn that no one could stand his ground with Mother as well as he could, but Dr. Barlow has proven me wrong more than once.
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
When I look back on the summer of 1936, so much of it seems like a dream to me. After Mother recovered enough for Van and me to resume our honeymoon, life became a whirl of unfamiliar but exciting places, people, and feelings. Together we shared the beauty and joy of new love fulfilling itself in the intimacy of new marriage. The world of wealth and luxury in which Van lived was a revelation to me. My family did have money, but the tasteful comfort of smalltown gentility is not the same thing as the opulence of the very rich. I had never seen anything like it outside of the movies. The homes, the food, the clothes were often intoxicating. I could understand how easy it could be to live in a perpetual dream and use money to place a wall between oneself and the lives and struggles of ordinary people.
I was pleased to see that Van avoided this kind of shallowness. He cultivated a life of the mind and spirit marked by a love of thought-provoking books and captivating jazz and an intense interest in public affairs. Sharing this life with him was one of the most satisfying pleasures of our marriage even on those rare occasions when our views differed. In this way I obtained some of the education that I had previously been denied. My husband was a man of tender feelings and sharp intelligence. As that glorious summer wore on, I became more and more convinced that it might be worth spending a lifetime getting to know him.
