J. Powers - Suitable Accommodations - An Autobiographical Story of Family Life - The Letters of J. F. Powers, 1942-1963

Jim

HARVEY EGAN

Milwaukee

Washington’s Birthday [February 22, 1951]

Dear Fr Egan,

[…] Suppose you’ve been mulling over the big basketball scandals in New York.15 I hope they don’t dig into things to the point where they discover what really happened to us Little Hawks in the State Tournament in ’35 at Decatur. I don’t know what Dick Keefe got, but I do know that George and I were living mighty high when it was all over. You may remember that we downed the home team, St Theresa, in the first round, and the talk was that I’d be All-State. But in the next round, going against a clumsy but determined St Bede’s five, I fouled out early (so as to be able to go through the lockers in peace), Dick dropped his cup and just wasn’t himself after that, and George complained of an old ailment with him, shin splints. They said we went down fighting, but I wonder what they would’ve said if they could’ve seen us being paid off later in Ott Quintenz’s tavern16 (Ott had been a Hawk himself at one time). I could tell you some tales. All I wanted was to set myself up in business. All for now. Write.

Jim

CHARLES SHATTUCK

Milwaukee

March 30, 1951

Dear Chuck,

[…] I had hopes of a summer near the ocean, I’d sent for a directory of cottages in Maine, but when I got the rejection,17 I knew I’d been kidding myself, thinking I was Irwin Shaw or somebody. It’ll probably be Big Spunk Lake at Avon — leaky roof, outdoor toilet, mosquitoes, the salty breeze off North Dakota. […] Just goes to show heaven is our destination.

Jim

HARVEY EGAN

May 2, 1951

Dear Fr Egan,

Thanks for sending the McManus book and piece about Ireland. McM. is pretty rich for my blood; Betty is reading it. The piece about Ireland is informative but lame in spots — not enough about why the good Irish writers are “anticlerical”—I think it’s just a natural reaction, and I wouldn’t call Frank O’Connor that. Sean O’Faolain gives a depressing picture of Dublin — the Sacred Heart picture in the hallway, all the young men belonging (at one time) to the IRA, their female equivalent to the Legion of Mary — both organizations, he says, bore him. Much moviegoing, as here, among all classes. I mention these things so you’ll think I know about these things even now. I would not expect anything better … and I am not going to Ireland (if I’m going to Ireland) to get material, etc. I’m going for the change, to work on my book about characters over here. So many people make that mistake about me. Rectors and seminaries, I understand, are closed to me because it is believed that I’m looking for material! Incredible but true! You know better. It’s true I’m not above taking away a little, if it’s good, but I never go anywhere to explore . That kills whatever it touches, that spirit, like a conducted tour. […]

I had a letter from Sr Eugene Marie, with an enclosure — your church bulletin. I don’t see how you do it sober. I think you’re growing gage (marihuana) in your back yard, and incidentally that would be an ideal crop, terrain, weather considered, and the church would be a perfect blind. […]

I’m grateful for your invitation and plan to come. Will let you know when. One thing, however: make that discipline tough. I had the impression you were being soft. We move out of here on May 31. Write. Come.

Jim

No baseball for me, second base my spot, but I can no longer make the double play. Legs gone.

At some point around this time, much of the land attached to the house in Avon was taken by eminent domain for the construction of a highway. Though they didn’t especially want to live there, the couple was incensed by the state’s high-handedness. Jim left Marquette with the idea of moving with Betty and the children to Ireland that coming fall. After leaving Milwaukee, he made an extended visit to Father Egan in Beardsley, Minnesota, while Betty and the two girls stayed with the Wahls in their new house on the Mississippi, four miles up the river from St. Cloud.

BETTY POWERS

Beardsley, Minnesota

June 1951

Dear Betty,

Saturday afternoon—3:30. After I left you yesterday, I stopped at the place in Avon (our place). The grass is high. Some trees have been uprooted near the Achman road, which has been widened, and that may be why the trees were leveled. Except that along the old road (the one we used for a driveway) there is one tree cut down and lying partly across that road; an ax was used, and I can’t make anything out of that, any reason for it, I mean. The house itself is the same. Except the storm window on the window near the door is out, several panes broken (it was leaning against the remains of that old icebox, but I moved it), and possibly someone has been snooping around inside, though there are no signs of vandalism, no more than we left, I mean. The place is wet inside and shows some evidence of things like gophers. I didn’t go in, however; all this seen through the window I slid open. I looked for highway department stakes and saw two: one in the old driveway and one just on the house side of the bank that goes down to the old driveway. Not very far in, I thought, but they are very insubstantial-looking stakes, just lathes, and perhaps don’t mean very much. It’s sad, going back there, as you might imagine. But it’s sad because of what we did there, all the work and inconvenience; not sad when one thinks, as I did, that we don’t have to make anything out of it. […] Much love to you.

Jim

BETTY POWERS

Beardsley, Minnesota

July 1951

Dear Betty,

This is Thursday afternoon. I look out the window and see Fr Egan working some kind of gasoline agricultural instrument. I’m using his big wide-carriage typewriter, the one he probably uses for his mimeographing. I’ve been working in the church basement but thought of knocking out this letter to you here in the house. I just took a bath, having done some carpentry work for Fr Egan this morning, cutting three inches off a chest he has by the refrigerator for brooms, jars, etc. Now the chest and refrigerator — reefer, as you and Mr Chopp say — fit snug, and Fr Egan, possibly even the housekeeper, is happy. […] Much love.

Jim

I was compelled to buy a can of Velvet, America’s Smoothest Smoke. Pretty tough, after Brindley’s, but I suppose I’ll harden to it.

On his return from Beardsley, Jim joined the rest of the family, living with the Wahls. In October, he visited his own parents, who had moved from Chicago to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where Charlotte and her family now lived.

HARVEY EGAN

3509 East Smith Avenue

Albuquerque, New Mexico

October 7, 1951

Dear Fr Egan,

As you can see from my address, I am visiting my folks — and that means that the story was sold, after all, to The New Yorker , after rewriting.18 […] I expect to leave in about ten days. We have made preparations to leave for Ireland on October 25: applications for passport, passage, etc. It is going to run into more money than we hoped (for instance, no tourist accommodations available, have to go cabin class, because of our last-minute arrangements), but then, as you always say, what is money? Standard Oil gasoline down here is known as Chevron. Great need for grass and trees. Drop me a line if there’s anything you want me to look into, Penitentes,19 etc. All for now.

Jim

Leopardstown Racecourse, 1952