Ash Wednesday

In 1733, Fr. Joseph Greaton, SJ, erected a small chapel in an alley at 4th and Walnut. (In Philadelphia, Pa.) The building—and its location—was inconspicuous, but it drew the attention of Pennsylvania’s Provincial Council, where it was reported that there was "no small concern to hear that a House lately built in Walnut Street was sett apart for the Exercise of the Roman Catholick Religion and it is commonly called the Romish Chappell, where Mass [is] openly celebrated by a Popish priest, contrary to the Laws of England."  The public practice of Catholicism was at that time contrary to the laws of England, but the council deferred judgment against Greaton to the governor, who chose not to notify the king. By deciding not to decide, the governor made Old Saint Joseph’s the only place in the colonies where Mass could be celebrated legally.

Not only did this church escape the pressure of the King of England in the eighteenth century,, it also was spared from the Know Nothing rioting mob of the mid-nineteenth century who burned several churches on their way down 4th Street. In the above photo the priest is distributing ashes on Ash Wednesday to parishoners.  The phrase he recites reminds us of our mortality which I think of daily.

On a personal note, my bride-to-be and I visited Old St. Joseph's the day before our wedding. I haven't been back since but not because of the  penance doled out by that old Jesuit priest.

Mea Culpa!
tjs
Next - The Longest Walk

Carnival

One snowy February I planned a getaway to Trinidad. Trinidad & Tobago are pretty far down the island chain it was about four hours via PANAM. The hotel in Port of Spain was built on the side of a mountain and when you entered the lobby you took the elevator DOWN to your room. It was known as the Upside Down Hilton. I was scheduled to fly home on a Saturday when the PANAM representative said if I could stay an extra day I could witness the Carnival parade rehearsal with all the steel bands performing - there was the Esso steel band and a dozen others stoked by a little rum and sun. PANAM rebooked me and put me up at their guest house overnight. (Too bad they are out of business) On Sunday the bands paraded on the local "savannah" park and the beat was infectious. After which the calypso singers performed their double-entendere lyrics. It was another instance of serendipity coming my way and grasping it.
tjs
Next - Ash Wednesday

Christmas Eve

In the 1950s the cargo ships of that era carried a crew of fifty sprinkled among the deck, engine and stewards departments. We had a ship arriving one Christmas Eve for a morning operation and with minimal cargo could be finished by noon which was good as the stevedore labor would be quitting at noon for the long holiday period. But the captain was reluctant to sail as he didn't want to be at sea for Christmas Eve and he announced at mid-morning that - for reason of hospitalization or attrition - he was short one Ordinary Seaman (OS) from his minimum requirement and since the union hall was closed for the holiday he would be unable to sail. There was NO WAY our Opers. Mgr. - Big Mike - wanted that crew in port over Christmas as they would have overflowed the local jails. He reviewed the crew list and saw that the ship had a surplus of Able Bodied Seamen (AB) one of whom we shall call Floyd Williams from Kingston, Jamaica. We happened to have on staff one Harry M. who had been a purser with Moore-McCormack Lines and who had a flair for dialects and could duplicate a British Caribbean accent to a tee. Big Mike "persuaded" Harry to phone the Shipping Commissioner to advise that he, Floyd Williams of Kingston, Jamaica was willing to step down to Ordinary Seaman just for the overnight trip to Baltimore. Miraculously, and perhaps in the Christmas spirit, the Commissioner accepted this verbal advice, amended the coastwise articles (crew list) and Mike advised the Captain he had his O.S. and he sailed on the outgoing tide.
tjs
Next - Carnival

Sales Calls II

My sales territory included all of eastern Pennsylvania. The epitome of a company town was Hershey, Pa. - better known as Chocolate Town. Milton Hershey had built housing for his employees and also founded a school for fatherless boys on a scale similar to what Stephen Girard did for orphans in Philadelphia. As you approached this city you could smell it five miles away. The office lobby was decorated in dark hues with chocolate colored leather chairs, pictures of the founder on the wall and there was a jar of chocolate kisses on the receptionist's credenza. I cooled my heels awaiting my interview and was soon summoned to an upper floor to see the powerful Traffic Manager. In those days my summer uniform included a straight sailor straw hat also known as a skimmer. I deposited my hat on the receptionist's credenza and went up to do business. Upon returning to the lobby I picked up my hat and putting it own revealed a shower of kisses wrappers enveloping my head and shoulders. Fortunately, only the receptionist witnessed this embarrassment and I went on my way.
tjs
Next - Christmas Eve (Monday)

War is Hell

Our operations manager in London before and after WWII was a chap named Ted C. who had a colorful career.  He first apprenticed to the predecessor of USLines circa 1929 in the East End office formerly occupied by the White Star Line (TITANIC). Even at that late date the crewmen's widows dressed in black would appear there seeking some compensation. During WWII Ted was in charge of a stevedore port battalion in support of General Bernard Montgomery in the north African port of Alexandria, Egypt.
All American cargo ships then were being operated by the U.S.Maritime Commission. It was circa 1942 and a USLines ship was sitting at anchor waiting her turn to be unloaded. The general had a habit of visiting these ships at random to keep everyone on their toes. He always wore a beret and was a stickler for spit and polish performance. This day he came alongside our ship with his entourage of officers and was brought on board. Our captain was ashore and the mate was in his bunk in his underwear coping with the heat with only a porthole for air. The mate roused from bed, grabbed a bottle of scotch and offered his guests a drink. "Monty" did not drink or smoke and he declined which meant that every Major, Captain, and Leftenant in his group also had to decline tho their tongues were hanging out. War is hell! After the war and back in England Ted's task was to set up a program to move several thousand British War Brides to America. This involved housing accommodations for the women and their offspring and we had several sailings from the Southampton port circa 1946.
tjs
Next - Sales Calls II

The Seasons

It appears that March came in "like" a lamb in Northeast Florida but not in all locations. After twenty years in Florida I still miss the change of seasons. When I worked in New York I lived in a high rise co-op apt. overlooking the Hudson River and The Palisades on the Yonkers/Hastings line in Westchester Co. The view and the sunsets were spectacular - we even had a morning rainbow one day which was a rarity. This was Washington Irving country and the flaming foliage in October was breathtaking. You could always tell when ARMY was playing a home football game at West Point as the yachts paraded up the Hudson in October and November. Then came the severe winters of 1977/1978 with considerable ice in the river impeding the tugboats pulling the barges upriver and the wind whistling down the Hudson Valley causing us to light our kitchen oven. But then came Spring. One April day I stood on the balcony and viewed a silver stripe running up the middle of the river. It was the annual shad run with the fish jumping and flailing on their way upriver to spawn above the Tappan Zee Bridge where the river widens. G.E. spent a lot of money cleaning up the PCBs and Pete Seeger used to bring his sloop CLEARWATER upriver to check on things and sell some pumpkins in the Fall. The river must have been clean enough for the shad. A lovely area to visit or reside.
tjs
Next - War is Hell

Changing of the Guard II

We are still in the upper room at Old Bookbinders - the decibels are rising - and I have to introduce the new man to the Philadelphia steamship community. His name is Cletus K. - he is coming in to Philadelphia from Pittsburgh where he was our Sales Mgr. - I heard that he is a raconteur of note but I have very little bio on him - so as I hand him the microphone he addresses this room full of strangers as follows:
"I have heard a lot about Old Bookbinders - I understand that in the bar their martinis are so dry that in the mens room, instead of urinals they have dust pans." The room erupted and Cletus had passed the test and made his bones in Philadelphia.
(I like these two stories because they are portable and transferable to any campus or watering hole of your choice.)
tjs
Next - The Seasons