Читать книгу Whatever Happened to Mary Janeway? - Mary Pettit - Страница 9

London

“Work for domestics in private homes was pure drudgery: long hours, lack of social freedom and privacy, and negligible pay.”[1]

1900

The gentle swaying of the train and the sound of the metal wheels clicking on the tracks reminded Mary that she was heading to London. She’d never been there before and had nowhere to live once she arrived. When the train pulled into the CPR station on Richmond Street, she was tired and apprehensive, but determined.

Having located a London Free Press discarded on one of the benches in the station, Mary quickly scanned the “Female Help Wanted” section. She had no clerical experience and while she was able to cook, no hotel would hire her because she only knew how to make apple butter and Johnnycake. A live-in domestic position was the only choice, especially since it was considered unacceptable for a young, single woman to live alone.

Several ads looked promising. One was for a kitchen girl, $14 per month, and a general servant willing to go to Goderich for August. Another was for a dining-room girl that paid $12 per month, and the third was also looking for a general servant to go to Goderich. Mary had no idea where that was but would go anywhere if it meant she’d have a job.

In the 1890s, Richmond Street is a muddy streetscape spanning several blocks. Pedestrians are boarding the streetcar and a team of horses are waiting patiently on a side street. Note the horse trough in the right foreground.

Ivey Family London Room, London Public Library, London, Ontario.

It made sense to answer the ad at 501½ Richmond first since she was already on that street. Mary was the most hopeful about this one since two positions were available, but she wondered why a house would have half a number. Shortly it became clear. Two buildings were crammed in the space that should have been for one. She walked up to the narrow, tall brown frame house, third one from the corner. The sign out front read “Fancy Goods, McEwen’s Intelligence Office.”

Mary knocked on the door timidly. No one answered so she knocked harder. A smallish woman wearing a crisp white uniform appeared. “Can I help you?” she asked kindly.

“I’m here for a job,” Mary replied, waving the folded newspaper.

“Oh, you must be asking about the summer home. Can you come back tomorrow morning after ten o’clock? Mrs. McEwen should be home by then.”

“Does that mean the positions aren’t filled yet?” Mary asked, hopefully.

“I really don’t know. I have my hands full looking after things right here.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow ma’am. Thanks just the same.” The lady nodded and closed the door. Mary wasn’t discouraged — one of the positions might still be vacant. Her preference was the kitchen girl since the other one was only for a month and probably paid less.

She headed down Dundas Street, walked five blocks, and found 406 Burwell. Taking a big breath before lifting the knocker, she lightly tapped the bright blue door three times. Nothing happened so she did it again with a little more enthusiasm, looking around for signs that someone might be there. Her eyes darted from window to window as she wondered if this place might become her new home. Finally, someone peeked through the front curtains and a moment later a rather stout woman in a plain dress came to the door.

She was told that Mrs. J. Smith McDougall had filled the position two days earlier. “The ad went in the paper a week ago. You might have stood a chance if you’d not been so tardy,” she said as she closed the door, leaving Mary standing on the front stoop. She thought the woman had been unnecessarily rude and also thought it might have been a mistake to work for someone who had two names.

“Smith McDougall,” she said under her breath, “probably means she’s rich.”

Mary was too tired and hungry to tackle the last ad, so decided to wait until morning to try her luck again before returning to 501½ Richmond. She stopped at a bakery, bought a cheese bun, and sat on a bench to eat it while she looked at the paper again. Where could she stay for the night? The European Hotel on Dundas Street had special rates for weekly boarders, but when she found it, it looked too fancy and she didn’t even bother walking up the steps. She headed down Clarence Street. Ladysmith Hotel had a nice ring to it and Mary hoped that it would be more suitable. She ended up staying two nights, but Charles Stevens, the proprietor, felt sorry for the young girl and only charged her for one.

Mary was up bright and early the next morning, her first full day in London. It was a beautiful city but so much bigger than she had ever imagined. She’d never seen so many churches and banks. She walked past the post office, police station, and courthouse, overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of the crowds and rather intimidated having come from such a small place as Innerkip. She wasn’t sure whether city life was going to suit her, but one thing was for certain, she wasn’t going back to the farm.

She walked eleven blocks before she found St. James Street but within a few minutes was climbing the stairs to #346. Mary felt less optimistic. This ad was only for one position, a good general servant to go to Goderich for the summer. A man answered the door. At first he seemed confused. “You’d have to speak to my wife. She’s the one who hires the domestics. Step inside and I’ll get her,” he said.

A well-dressed woman in her late forties appeared. “Are you here to apply for the position?” she asked, as if there might be some other reasons why she’d be there.

“Yes ma’am. Has it been filled?”

“Not yet. I never hurry when I hire new girls. It’s far too important. Do you have references?”

Mary’s eyes fell. “No ma’am, I don’t but I …” Mary was at a loss for words. She tried to collect her thoughts. “I have a lot of experience cooking, cleaning, and sewing. I know how to make apple butter too.” As soon as she said that, she felt foolish. Being able to make apple butter was not going to secure a job.

“Without references I can’t possibly consider you. That would be a risk I’m not willing to take,” she said decisively and ushered her out.

Mary wandered around for a while and waited until exactly ten before returning to Richmond Street. The smallish woman who’d spoken to her yesterday remembered Mary and invited her into the front room. Mrs. Ellen McEwen appeared and introduced herself. She was tall woman with a tidy bun of chestnut-brown hair and she wore beautiful jewellery.

“I’ve hired a kitchen girl but still need a general servant. You do realize that it’s just for August,” she paused. Mary nodded. “It pays $9 and you’d have to travel to Goderich, our summer home on Lake Huron. It’s a long trip, about sixty miles by train, but the scenery is splendid.” She stopped to take a breath. “You’d have half a day off in the month and Sunday, the Lord’s day. Everyone should rest that day including the servants.”

“It sounds perfect,” Mary replied hoping to hide the desperation in her voice.

“Can you leave the day after tomorrow?”

“I can go sooner if you like,” Mary answered. She didn’t want to stay in the hotel any longer than necessary.

“If you can leave on Friday, so much the better. And your name is?” she paused.

“Mary … Mary Janeway, ma’am.”

“Very well then Mary. The job is yours. Be here by eight o’clock in the morning. I’ll already be gone but Elsa can go over a few things with you.”

Mary was thrilled. As of tomorrow she had a job and a roof over her head. She strolled down the street, went into a grocery store to buy an orange, then back to the bakery for another pastry. She even bought some licorice to celebrate her good fortune and her birthday that was right around the corner.

The next morning at five to eight, Mary knocked confidently on Mrs. McEwen’s door. The same lady that she’d already met twice gave her a second-class train ticket to Goderich and directions to the Grand Trunk Railway station. The lady, whom Mary assumed was Elsa, chattered away as if she had all the time in the world. “Since you’re new in town, you probably don’t know that we’ve got two train stations. Would you believe that we live exactly half way between them? It’s very convenient if I do say so myself. Now, let me see, where was I?”

With that she walked out on the front stoop and pointed to the right. “Just stay on Richmond and walk a fair piece until you come to York. You can’t miss it, the station’s right there as big as life, across the street from The Grigg House Hotel. There’s no danger of you getting on the wrong train, since there’s only one line into Goderich. I suspect that will change. I’ll bet it won’t be long before the CPR goes into Goderich too.” Mary wasn’t the least bit interested in how many trains went into Goderich since one was all she needed.

A group of people are standing on the platform at the Grand Trunk Railway Depot. The inscription erroneously gives the location as Richmond Street, but it was situated on the south side of York Street between Richmond and Clarence Streets.

Ivey Family London Room, London Public Library, London, Ontario.

“If you get lost just ask anyone directions to the Grand Trunk. You’ll find folks around here pretty friendly.” She explained all this without seeming to ever stop for a breath of air.

Mary nodded, never indicating that she’d already familiarized herself with the main streets. She felt that it was wise not to share all her business or appear too knowledgeable. The woman went on to explain that it was about a three-hour trip and someone would be there to greet her. Mary was growing accustomed to taking the train. This trip wouldn’t seem nearly as intimidating as the last one.