chapter 2 - the parents

the people:

the timeline:

the story:

Charles and Daisy

In 1911. He s Charles Parlin stood in front of Independence Hall in Philadelphia and nervously checked his timepiece. He still had one hour before the job interview, so he found a bench and reviewed his notes. It still wasn’t clear to him what job he was interviewing for. An old acquaintance of his, Stanley Latshaw, had called him out of nowhere and explained that he wanted to build the Division of Commercial Research for the Curtis Publishing Company.

Charles Parlin was a high school principal in Wausau High School. He didn’t know anything about the publishing business, much less “commercial research.” In fact he had never heard of it.

Charles had done extensive research at his hometown Wausau Public Library before he left for Philadelphia. On the two-day train journey he had written, read, rewritten, and reread his notes numerous times.

He committed the most salient facts to memory:

The Curtis Publishing Company was founded in 1891 by publisher Cyrus H. K. Curtis.
The company's publications included the Ladies' Home Journal and The Saturday Evening Post, The American Home, Holiday, Jack & Jill, and Country Gentleman.
Curtis's wife, Louisa Knapp, was the editor of the Ladies' Home Journal. Curtis Publishing had acquired it in 1883 and today, in 1910, it was the most popular women’s journal in the country.
Curtis bought the Saturday Evening Post for $1000 in 1897, when it had a subscription base of 2,000. By 1906, the base was over 1 million.
In 1910, the Curtis Center was built and served as the company’s headquarters in Philadelphia.

Curtis Publishing was essentially the Facebook of its time. Its journals were sent to almost every household with a mailing address, just like today Facebook is in every household with an internet connection. Through Curtis’s publication platform, Americans got information about current events, lifestyle interests, and cultural affairs.

In the early 1900s, the Saturday Evening Post was like the Facebook of its time

Stanley had explained that the board of Curtis Publishing was concerned about the advent of the radio and it's potential to divert advertising revenues away from Curtis' magazines. They needed to get closer to their advertisers and better understand the rapid changes happening in their industries.

This included questions like: how will the advent of aviation disrupt the railroad industry? And, how will the proliferation of telephones change the way people communicate?

These questions were on the same scale of uncertainty as questions we have about today’s technological disruption. Questions like:

How will self-driving cars and trucks impact the transportation industry?
Which jobs done by humans today will be made obsolete by artificial intelligence?
How will blockchain technologies like Bitcoin change the banking and financial industry?

When Charles finally walked through the doors of the Curtis Publishing Company, he jumped from nervousness to near panic. This was no average business.

Imagine walking into the headquarters of Amazon for a job interview. The main feature of the Amazon campus in Seattle, WA is called “The Spheres”. The Spheres are three massive (four stories high) glass dome conservatories filled with 40,000 plants from 50 countries. They serve as the employee lounge and workspace.

Amazon Sphere Interior. Seattle, WA.

The feeling you would get walking into the Amazon Spheres and waiting to be escorted to your job interview, is the same feeling Charles had waiting in the lobby of the Curtis Building. The building was just a year old and exuded grandeur and power. The interior of the building featured a terraced waterfall and fountain, an atrium with faux-Egyptian palm trees, and a glass-mosaic called the Dream Garden. The Dream Garden stood 15-feet high and 49-feet long and comprised of over 100,000 pieces of Tiffany glass in 260 different colors.

Curtis Publishing Headquarters

Dream Garden Mural in lobby of headquarters.

“Mr. Latshaw and Mr. Hazen will see you now,” the secretary said to Charles. Hazen? He knew Stanley, but who was Mr. Hazen?

He entered Mr. Hazen’s spacious office; both men were warm and inviting. Stanley was clearly the visionary, talking about his ideas about the future of everything from food production to transportation to communications. Edward Hazen was the business guy in charge of advertising.

What was supposed to be an hour-long interview extended into lunch. Hazen finally asked Charles, “What qualification do you have for the job of studying industry for The Curtis Publishing Company?"

"Just one,” Charles replied, “I know nothing about industry, have no prejudices and will waste none of your time unlearning anything."

“Mr. Latshaw told you about the job,” said Hazen, "Do you want it?"

“It seems vague to me,” said Charles.

"It is vague,” replied Mr. Hazen, “But it is a magnificent opportunity; take it and make the best of it.”

Convincing Daisy

Charles boarded the train and settled in for the long journey back to Wausau, which cost an eye-popping $115. Thankfully the Curtis Publishing Company was going to reimburse him for it, as that was well beyond the budget of a high school principal.

In fact, he was just beginning to get a taste for the difference between employment with a public school and employment with a large corporation. The company also told him to book the Pullman Berth luxury-class private room with a bed and wash, and book the revered “20th Century Limited” from NYC to Chicago, which was advertised as the "The Most Famous Train in the World."

Charles had much to think about on the long train ride home — but first he had to clear his mind., He purchased that day’s edition of The Pennsylvania Inquirer and as the train pulled out of 30th Street Station, Charles immersed himself in the front-page story about how Teddy Roosevelt was going to split the Republican Party in next year’s election through the formation of a new party, The Progressive (“Bull Moose”) Party. Current President William Taft was flummoxed by this as it spelled doom for his chances to win a second term as President. It all but handed the election to the Democratic Party’s up and comer, Woodrow Wilson.

After a few more articles, Charles dozed off. The next thing he knew someone was shaking him awake saying, “Hey Fella – everyone off the train. We reached the end of the line.” He groggily glanced out the window and saw the sign for Grand Central Station. He had to hurry to make his next train.

As he raced across the station the famed “20th Century Limited” started to come into view. It was fabulous! He was warmly greeted by the steward and ushered along a crimson carpet to the onboarding ramp. Maybe he could get used to this.

New York Central train the 20th Century Limited leaving Chicago's LaSalle Street station.

Settling into his private cabin, Charles had much to think about. Being an academic by nature and filled with curiosity, he was fascinated by the opportunity to research industry and try to predict where it was headed. He envisioned leading various studies and traveling the country to interview executives.

Getting paid — and paid well compared to a principal’s salary — to talk to people, research current affairs, and ponder the future? This was his dream job.

There was only one concern: convincing his wife Daisy. She loved life in Wisconsin, and he loved her dearly. Even though he never spoke of it, Daisy helped Charles rise from the ashes.

After graduating from the University of Wisconsin in 1893, Charles took a job as a teacher at Wausau High School. The next year he got an even better offer to be the principal of the High School in DePere, Wisconsin. There he met Ruth Anne Christie, who was also a teacher at DePere, and they married in 1895. Tragically, Ruth died that same year from pneumonia.[1]

Ruth Annie Chrsitie and Charles Parlin Mariage Annoucement_edited.jpg

Wedding announcement for Charles and Ruth.

Ruth Anne Christie Parlin headstone.

Charles was devastated, but eventually he met Daisy. She was a teacher at DePere High School and her and Charles became friends.

During one of their strolls, Charles mentioned that he was considering a new job. Karl Mathie, Charles’ close friend from his days teaching at Wausau, had become superintendent of the Wausau schools and wanted to hire Charles as his principal.

Wausau High School

DePere High School

As he was explaining all of this, Daisy tried to hide her disappointment. Wausau was more than 100 miles away and she had grown quite fond of Charles.

At the end of their walk Charles turned to her and said “There is only one negative, and it’s a big one, that I haven’t mentioned. I don’t want to move away from you.”

In the Fall of 1896, Charles started his new position at Wausau High School. By this point, he and Daisy were more than just friends. On New Year’s Eve, during a visit at her parents’ house for the extended Christmas holiday, Charles proposed. Her smile, as they shivered in blankets, sipping hot cocoa watching fireworks light up a dark winter night sky, was forever ingrained in his mind. At the stroke of midnight Charles dropped to his knee, ring in hand, and she said “yes”!

Charles Coolidge Parlin (age 22).

Daisy Blackwood Parlin (age 22).

After the wedding, Daisy moved to Wausau where they had lived ever since. They had three children - Charles (13), George (10), Ruth (7) – and one on the way (Grace if it was a girl, Josiah if it was a boy).

Asking Daisy to pick up and move the family 1,000 miles from Wausau to Boston, where the advertising headquarters for Curtis were located at that time, was daunting because she had deep roots were in the area.

Her Grandmother, Rosetta Manley, was recorded in Wisconsin history as the first white woman to settle north of Milwaukee. Her father, Captain Silas Blackwood, was a celebrated Civil War veteran who, after the war, settled the family in Kewaskum, WI.

Her grandfather wanted her to attend Lawrence University, as there was a scholarship there in his name. But she chose OshKosh College because she wanted to become a teacher and the school had an excellent teaching certification program.

Daisy was a founding member of Wisconsin’s chapter of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU). She held various leadership positions at the local level and chaired the national WCTU’s Scientific Temperance Instruction Committee.

Her work on this committee had opened her eyes to the scientific evidence that alcohol was indeed the “devil’s poison”. She had seen this herself on the streets of Milwaukee during church field visits, where Skid Row was littered with souls lost to drunkenness.

Charles was 39 and Daisy, 40. Was this really the time for them to upend their lives and start again in a new city where they knew nobody? It was daunting, but Charles knew he would never again get an opportunity like this — if not for Stanley Latshaw, this opportunity never would have come up.

Stanley had been a student at Wausau during Charles’s first year as principal. He was rather mischievous so he spent a lot of his time in the principal’s (Charles's) office. But Charles secretly admired his brilliant, if not devious, mind. His pranks were pure genius.

On one occasion Stanley wired a low voltage battery to the men’s urinal which would deliver a mild shock to sensitive parts each time someone used it.

On another occasion, he hired brawny Wisconsin lumberjacks to corral a live 2500-pound Holstein Bull up 3 flights of stairs and leave it tied up on the roof. It was quite a surprise for everyone the next morning. School was canceled that day and Charles had to hire the same lumberjacks to get the massive bovine off the roof.

Finally, Charles got back home to Wausau. Daisy took one look at him and said, “We’re moving aren’t we?” which made Charles laugh and hug her tight.

Charles was surprised; Daisy was excited for the change. She could once again see the spark in his eye.

It wasn’t as much the opportunity for better pay that was exciting him, it was the chance to build something from nothing. There was no such thing as market research, and Curtis was asking him to invent it.

Or as Mr. Hazen said, “It is a magnificent opportunity; take it and make the best of it.”

William Boyd

In the summer of 1910, William was sitting at the ferry dock in Lake George waiting for the Horicon to take him to Silver Bay. His daughters Margaret (11) — everyone called her Peg — and Miriam (9) were with him.

Finally the announcement came to board. In a flash, Peg and Miriam went from bored to bouncing. It was their first voyage on a steamboat and the Horicon was a classic. It was built in 1877 and, while starting to show her age, had all the craftsmanship of wooden steamboats in that era. It was handsomely furnished with grand saloons and cabins as well as a handcrafted bald eagle mounted at the top of the mast.

Horicon Steamship

The girls didn’t sit for the entire two-hour journey. They ran from the front to back and from lower to upper deck. They loved the steam engines. To slow down and speed up, the 200-ton Horicon had to use all 555 horses of horsepower it had. The rumbling of the twin engines shook the floor and rattled the windows. The churning propellers and steam made the lake boil.

The General Slocum Disaster.

Corabel probably wouldn’t have permitted William to bring the girls if it was not for her familiarity with where they were going, the YMCA Christian Retreat Center at Silver Bay. When William and Corabel got married in Kansas City in 1892, she was very active in the Young Women’s Christian Association, traveling extensively as their General Secretary. She wanted the girls to see it first-hand, knowing they would love it.

William Boyd.

Corabel Boyd.

William was traveling to Silver Bay to meet Luther Wishard. Luther was the founder of the Student Volunteer Movement, an organization which, in 1898, merged with the YMCA. In his earlier career as Secretary of the YMCA in Kansas City and Chicago, William had heard the incredible story of how Luther Wishard built the Student Movement from nothing to one of the largest faith-based student organizations in the country.

In 1877, Luther Wishard became the first full-time staff member for the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA). His job was to direct the YMCA’s work with students in the U.S. colleges.

Almost a decade later, and still with the YMCA, Wishard became obsessed with the Haystack Prayer movement. The movement was founded in 1806 by five students from Williams College. Gathered in a field just outside the campus, they got caught in a thunderstorm and found shelter under a large haystack. They prayed and discussed their religious calling to spread Christianity everywhere they could.

They ended their prayers proclaiming, “We can do this if we will!”

In 1886 Wishard decided to visit the Haystack Prayer monument (which had been erected at Williams College in honor of the five students that founded it). Standing in front of the monument, it dawned on him that what happened to those students was again happening in his generation.

Luther Wishard.

Haystack Prayer Monument.

“What they had done was ours to complete,” he prayed, “I am willing to go anywhere, at any time, to do anything for Jesus.”

Today, it may seem like Wishard and the founders of the Haystack Prayer Movement were religious fanatics with their zeal to spread Christianity. But it was more than that. It’s the same youthful passion and yearning for justice that inspires young people today to march in the streets in support of Black Lives Matter. Or, get in a Green Peace raft to stop illegal whaling. Or, to speak up against harassment as part of the #MeToo movement.

The missionaries were not just trying to spread Christianity, they wanted to make the world a better place. It was social justice for them, in the same way that young people fight for social justice causes today.

That evening William read about the origins of Silver Bay. In the 1890s, a local farmer built a lodge capable of supporting 80 to 100 people. In 1897, Silas Paine, a Standard Oil executive, vacationed at the resort and decided to buy a portion of land adjacent to the property. In 1898, Silas built the Silver Bay Inn (which still stands today and is a historic landmark).

He and his wife ran it for three years as a private enterprise, then Mr. Wishard convinced them to dedicate it as a center for Christian conferences and missionary training. In 1904, Paine sold the inn and grounds to the YMCA for $70,000.

It dawned on William that so many of his beliefs and values were reflected in this wonderful place. He put the girls to bed then retired himself, anticipating his visit with Mr. Wishard in the morning.

Dock at Silver Bay (now the EMP Dock).

The Inn.

The Store.

In the morning he dropped the girls off at day camp and went back to the inn where he met Mr. Davis, whom Luther had arranged to transport him.

They took a horse and buggy because the roads were damp, and Mr. Davis didn’t want to risk getting his new Model T stuck in the mud. He learned that Mr. Davis was a retired professor from the Princeton Theological Seminary and after his retirement a few years ago, he built a summer house near the Wishards.

Mr. Davis shared some of the history of the area.

“That house to your right is owned by Mr. and Mrs. Paine. He used to work for Standard Oil,” he said “And from the size of that mansion he did quite well for himself.”[2]

Path from Silver Bay to Van Buren Bay.

Then Mr. Davis told the story about how Mr. Wishard had convinced Mr. Paine to convert the Silver Bay Inn into a Christian conference center. William was already familiar with this from what he read last night, but he listened intently nonetheless.

Mr. Davis said Mr. Paine and Mr. Wishard became good friends. The Wishard’s bought their property from Mr. Paine and their house is called the “Bonnie Doon.” It was the first house built in Van Buren Bay and for many years served as what you might say was the social center for the Missionary Movement. It’s where Luther promoted the movement and built support for Silver Bay.

He went on to explain that the Silas and Mary Paine owned much of the property around Van Buren Bay and were intent on to populating their "village on a hill" with ministers, missionaries, and other men of upright character.

“Unfortunately, Luther is not the man he used to be,” Mr. Davis said, looking away. “His health has been failing for a few years now.”

The men pulled into Van Buren Bay and the first house William saw was delightful. It was built in the Adirondack camp style, with spruce beams, hemlock bark siding, and white Tudor-like gables.

“Oh that’s not the ‘Bonnie Doon’,” said Mr. Davis, “That’s Thorton Penfield’s house. He’s also retired. He’s from Brooklyn where he was the secretary of the YMCA.”[3]

Penfield Cottage at Van Buren Bay.

William laughed and explained that he used to work for the YMCA too. The amount of connections he had to this place was amazing.

Mr. Davis dropped William off at the Wishards and said he’d return in a bit. William had a nice visit with Luther — not as awe-inspiring as he thought it would be, but still very pleasant. Luther’s health was indeed failing and the visit didn’t last long.

Luther hadn’t lost his missionary passion though. He got quite animated talking about how the Paine’s sold the parcels around Van Buren Bay to men of faith. He imagined it becoming a retirement community for ministers and missionaries, where they could continue their work, albeit on a smaller scale.

On the ride home Mr. Davis asked William how long he was here. “Oh we’re here for one week” William said.

“We?” asked Mr. Davis.

“Yes I’m here with my two young daughters, Peg and Miriam.”

“Well would you and the girls be interested in joining us for a picnic after Sunday services? The kids will love it. We organize all sorts of fun and games.”

“That’s very kind,” William said, “We’d love to.”

After services that Sunday William and the girls walked to the picnic It was a nice sunny afternoon and he wanted to tell the girls about the area along the way.

When they arrived, they saw Mr. Davis in front of Penfield Cottage talking to another man.

“Welcome! So glad you decided to join us,” Mr. Davis said, shaking William’s hand. “And you young ladies must be Peg and Miriam, yes?”

The girls shyly gathered behind their father. They weren’t afraid of the man, they were afraid of the scary looking sea monsters hanging behind him. Big, fat, gray sea monsters with whiskers protruding from their heads.

Miriam pointed towards them and asked, “Are those sea monsters?”

The men laughed. “No, dear, those are called catfish. Not much to look at, but wonderful to eat.”

Miriam, ever curious, got closer and reached her hands out to feel their slimy skin.

“Hold on there!” the other man called out. “They can give you a sting.”

Miriam jumped back. “Do they live in the lake?” she asked nervously. They had brought their swim dresses with them, but she wasn’t going to swim with sea monsters.

“No, no” said the man, “These fish only live in ponds. You don’t have to worry about them, they’re none in the lake. We get them from a place down the road where there is a fish pond.”

The girl’s eyes widened at the thought of eating sea monsters. “Don’t worry, we also have hot dogs and fried chicken,” he said, much to the girl’s relief.

Mr. Davis introduced the man next to him, Mr. Penfield. William recalled that Mr. Penfield was the man who worked at the YMCA. They got to talking and were surprised by how many people they knew in common. The girls were getting restless with all this grown-up talk so Mr. Davis pointed them to the beach where the other kids were playing. The three men followed after them.

There was a large gathering of families. The children were playing along the shore and the adults were in Adirondack chairs, soaking their feet in the lake.

“Ok everyone – I’d like you to meet William Boyd and his two daughters Peg and Miriam.”

Just then a few of the kids ran up. They had a can with them filled with salamanders. Peg and Miriam looked into the can. The creatures looked like little dragons with their protruding tongues and buggy eyes.

“Come on,” one of the boys said, “Help us find more.”

The girls skipped off with the rest of the kids. William was offered a chair.

“This is Captain Watts,” Mr. Davis said. Captain Watts was originally from England and recently built his retirement home up on the hill. Everyone referred to him as captain because, after moving to the states for college, he joined the army as an engineer constructing army bases all over the country.

“And this is Charles and Margaret Michener,” Mr. Penfield said, “They were the original owners of the house I’m in now. They built it.”

“That is one of the most splendid houses I’ve ever seen,” William complimented them.

The Micheners explained that they originally built a house up on the hill away from the lake. Margaret herself was the architect. She described it fondly: “It has a big wide porch and with rails of spruce and cedar that we harvested from the forest around Jabez Pond. The siding on the outside of the house is covered with hemlock bark that we got from trees along the lakeshore.”

She went on to explain that a few years ago their daughter contracted Polio and the doctors advised her to regularly exercise in the water. So, in 1907, they sold their house on the hill, and began constructing a new house right on the lakefront. Margaret designed this house too, now occupied by Mr. Penfield, in the same Adirondack style.

“And here is Earl Taylor” Mr. Taylor was a close friend and colleague of Luther Wishard. They had co-founded the Young People's Missionary Movement together. Later he became a Secretary for Foreign Missions of the Methodist Episcopal Church.

“And here is William and Muriel Millar.” Millar was another YMCA man. He was instrumental in founding the Army-Navy YMCA in 1898 and was responsible for Army-Navy training at Silver Bay. He later became a Methodist minister. [4]

William settled into his chair and spoke with everyone, amazed by how much he had in common.

After about an hour a loud bell rang. “Time to eat!” Mr. Penfield said, jumping up.

It was quite a feast. Fried catfish and chicken, cabbage slaw, apple salad, fresh baked bread. The kids had hot dogs, chips and bottles of Coca-Cola – much to Williams’s girls' delights.

This was the best catfish William had ever eaten. It was thickly breaded, crispy on the outside with white juicy flesh underneath.

“This may be the best catfish I’ve ever had!” he said.

“Indeed it is! In fact, sometimes we call Captain Watts ‘Sir Catfish’” Mr. Millar said.

Captain Watts explained that he learned to cook catfish in Georgia while he was working on an army base there.

“Wouldn’t you believe my luck that, there’s a fully stocked catfish pond just down the road” he said with glee.

The pond was owned by a Mr. Mann, who Captain Watts had become friends with. Once while visiting, he noticed a pond across from Mann’s house that was filled with catfish. Mr. Mann was quite old and no longer fished, so much to Captain Watts’ delight, he told Watts he was welcome to fish there anytime.

“The old guy is a real character,” the captain said, “Not exactly the Christian type, but boy does he have some stories. He was a Civil War veteran and, fought at Gettysburg under Colonel Custer. Then he went on to develop the Mann Boudoir Car, a railroad sleeping car. But now he’s known as the scandalous figure that created a newspaper called Town Topics.”

William stopped chewing and looked up in disbelief. “Sorry, is this Colonel Mann?”

“Indeed it is,” Captain Watts said.

William laughed out loud and explained he was familiar with Colonel Mann since William worked in the publishing business too. He even knew some of the Colonels’ advertising men. William didn’t have much respect for Mann’s scruples, but he sure enjoyed his catfish.

As they walked back to the Inn, William got goosebumps rehashing the many connections he had with the people they just met. He belonged here, he thought.

After dinner, they were scheduled to take an evening boat tour on the Oneita. Walking to the boathouse, they saw a small group standing by the lakeshore and a swarm of bats diving at their heads.

“What are they doing?” asked Miriam.

Having no idea, William took the girls over to see. There was a box of tiny potato wedges on the ground. He saw one of the boys grab one and throw it up in the air. The bats swooped down and plucked them out of the air.

“Want to try?” the boys asked Peg and Miriam. This was the funniest game they had played all day.

One of the older boys explained to them that bats can’t see. That’s why they say you’re as “blind as a bat.”

“Well if they can’t see then how do they catch potatoes?” Miriam asked.

“Nobody really knows,” one boy said.

They can’t see but they can catch potatoes; she thought about this as they walked to the boat.

The Oneita was marvelous. The hull, gunwales, and trim were made from dark mahogany that shimmered against the water.

The Oneita at Silver Bay.

They boarded the boat and headed south. Powering around the first bend, William realized he was looking into Van Buren Bay. There were scattered specks of light coming from the cabins of all those families met at the picnic.

When they crossed the lake the captain explained, “Nobody lives over here — yet, that is,” the captain said. The entire stretch of mountains ahead – at least a mile in each direction – were inaccessible by anything except a boat."

“But the way things are going here on the lake, it’ll get developed someday,” he added.

“Who owns it?” asked Peg.

“I don’t know but I sure hope they decide to keep it like it is.”

Me too, Peg thought.

Historical Note: Peg got her wish. In 1999, her son, Hank Rowan, a successful businessman, helped organize and fund a coalition of land conservancies that bought 168 acres of forest and shoreline directly across the lake from Silver Bay and kept it "Forever Wild." There is a marker at the outermost point of the pavilion at Slim Point, memorializing the Margaret Boyd Rowan Preserve.

Henry Rowan with his daughter Virginia Rowan Smith at the dedication of the Margaret Boyd Rowan Preserve, July 10, 1999.

The rest of the ride was at a gentler pace. As darkness settled in, out came the stars. This was indeed the greatest show on earth, William thought. The captain pointed out the Big Dipper and other constellations. The girls jumped with excitement at each shooting star.

As they rounded Odell Island and headed home, Miriam was almost in a trance. Her mind was trying to piece everything together. Bats that can’t see but catch potatoes in the air. Salamanders that regrow their tails. Fish that sting but are still eaten. She loved this place and all the mysteries that came with it. She wished someday to return.

Historical Note: William Boyd served on Silver Bay’s board of trustees from 1917-1926, helping to steer the organization through a difficult financial era when it came close to bankruptcy. In honor of his service, a new 43,000 square foot conference facility opened in 2018 was named in his honor. Virginia Rowan Smith, Boyd's Great Granddaughter, said she and her husband “are pleased to be able to provide a lead gift for this important center … And to think it all started over a hundred years ago, when he introduced his young daughters to Silver Bay in the summer of 1910.”

The William Boyd Center at Silver Bay opened in 2018.

Germantown, Pennsylvania

She hated these things, but it was important to her mother.

They were at a luncheon hosted by Woman's Club of Germantown, a group her mother was involved in, and Miriam was awkwardly making small talk, which she was not very good at.

The luncheon was to establish a junior section of the Woman’s Club of Germantown, which her mother was encouraging her to get involved in. She had no interest in it, but didn’t have the nerve to tell her mother so.

It was early summer 1920. Miriam was daydreaming about heading to Silver Bay and the cabin her Father William had built in Van Buren Bay. Silver Bay was one of her favorite places in the world; she fell in love with it the moment she first saw it as a child more than ten years ago.

This summer she planned to hike and explore the trails of the Lord Howe Valley, which was just south of the historic town of Ticonderoga.

As she was daydreaming about Lake George and mindlessly milling about the white gloved gathering, she stumbled upon a small plaque in the back of the room.

“Johnson House: Home of The Underground Railroad” the plaque read. This caught her attention.

“Built in 1768, the Johnson House was one of Germantown’s oldest homes. The Johnsons were Quakers and believed in non-violence.”

“As did many Quakers, the Johnsons were against slavery and offered their home as a station on the Underground Railroad in the early 1800s. They provided sanctuary, food, clothing, and transportation to untold numbers of African freedom seekers. Tradition holds that the prominent abolitionist Harriet Tubman visited the Johnson House.”

Wow, Miriam thought. When her family moved to Germantown in 1915 she had no idea of this history. To her, it was just a quaint suburb of Philadelphia.

The next day Miriam went to the library to learn more. She was interested in, and sympathetic to, the plight of negroes. She abhorred the history of slavery.

It turned out that Germantown was the origination point for many social justice movements. It was founded by German Quakers in 1683. The Quakers strict interpretation of the teachings of Christ led them to refuse to kill in war, swear oaths, keep slaves, and consume alcohol.

Although Miriam was Methodist — largely because her ancestors as far back as they could trace were Methodists — Miriam held many Quaker ideologies. She strongly agreed with the foundational Quaker belief, "that of God in every one,” meaning that God lives in every human regardless of their race, class, or social standing.

She also found a more trivial, but nonetheless interesting fact about Germantown. It was the birthplace of Ross Granville Harrison. Mr. Harrison was currently the Chair of Zoology at Yale University and the managing editor of the ‘Journal of Experimental Zoology.’

Miriam had heard of Mr. Harrison’s work in one of her biology classes at Wellesley. He was a major contributor to the growing field of medical research called genetics and had even been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize.

One of his experiments caught Miriam’s attention. It involved amputating the right limb of a salamander then reattaching a limb bud from the left side. The limb buds essentially provide instructions to the body for what type of limb to grow. The right left limb grew back, as a normal right limb despite the bud coming from the left side, proving that there were some sort of instructions embedded in limb buds independent of the body.

The science fascinated Miriam, but the reason this experiment stood out was she vividly remembered those boys at Van Buren Bay telling her if you cut off a salamander’s tail it will later grow back.

“The library will be closing in ten minutes,” announced the librarian.

Miriam rushed to return the books she was reading. She had lost track of time and had to hurry home for yet another one of her parent’s dinner parties. Her parents, particularly her father William, entertained a lot. This was not a trait she inherited. Miriam preferred to be by herself.

“Dear, you are late. They will be here shortly,” her mother said when she got home. “Run up and get ready.”

They were having the Parlin family for dinner. Miriam’s father worked with Mr. Parlin at the Curtis Publishing Company and the families were both members of the Methodist Church in Germantown. Miriam suspected this wasn’t the only reason he invited them for dinner though. Mr. Parlin had a son, Charles, named after his father, who was about the same age as Miriam.

While she loved her parents dearly, she disliked how they were always subtly — and sometimes not so subtly — trying to match her up with “suitable” suitors. They tended to meddle in her affairs and were very concerned that she would not find a husband due to her shyness and introverted nature.

She adored her father, but she could not be less like him. He was affable and gregarious, always meeting new people and befriending them. His larger-than-life personality served him well in his advertising career at Curtis, but as a father it often meant that he was all too willing to share his opinion about Miriam’s affairs.

They sat down to dinner. Of course, she was seated next to Charles. She tried not to like him, but it was hard not to.

Charles was interesting and engaging. He’d just been accepted to Harvard Law School, so she asked him how he had become interested in the law.

“I guess it started with my interest in mathematics,” he said.

Miriam looked at him quizzically, not seeing the connection.

He went on to explain that when he was in college at the University of Pennsylvania, he studied math and was fascinated by the laws of numbers. He applied mathematics extensively during the war when, in his junior year, he enlisted with the Army’s Heavy Artillery Corps.

Because Charles had studied trigonometry, he was sent to the officers’ training camp at Fort Monroe, where they learned to operate the biggest cannons in the artillery. These massive guns were mounted on railroad flat cars which would shoot at targets as far as 75 miles away. Since the operator obviously could not see the target, aiming had to be determined with mathematics, he explained.

“There are very elaborate mathematical formulas which tell the curve which a shell will take when the cannon is tipped at a given angle. Then you must study the wind, how hard it is blowing and in what direction. Also, the shell spins around and around so it goes through the air and thus causes it to curve in much the same manner that a pitcher curves the baseball by spinning it as it goes through the air.”

He stopped talking and looked at her, “Sorry this must be terribly boring.”

He grew quiet.

“To the contrary, I find it fascinating,“ said Miriam. “I’m also intrigued by math. I’m majoring in chemistry at Wellesley, so we use math all the time.”

Charles tried not to look surprised, he hadn’t met a lot of women that studied math, much less chemistry. They spent the rest of the dinner talking about academic topics and enjoying each other’s intellect.

As everyone was getting up from the table and preparing to leave, Charles turned to her and, trying not to be too forward, said, “I’d enjoy seeing you again.”

Footnotes:

[1] Pneumonia was the third leading cause of death overall at the time of in this era.

[2] The mansion still stands today as part of the Silver Bay Association. It’s called Paine Hall.

[3] Penfield Cottage still stands today. When you get to the end of the Friendship Trail, it sits to the left along the lake.

[4] The history of Van Buren bay and the history of its settlement had been documented by Charles G. Gosselink - Benjamin Van Buren's Bay

Chapter2Footnotes