Radio Script #659

Little Talks on Common Things

September 26, 1965

Many Maine sea captains engaged in the coastal trade during the early years of this century, and not all of them made their homes at the ports from which their ships sailed. Several maintained long residence in inland Maine. One such was Captain William R. Kreger of Fairfield. whose house on that town’s Western Avenue was one of the community’s finer homes. One of the last ships that Captain Kreger commanded was the Jennie Flood Kreger, named in honor of the captain’s wife. Captain Kreger did not own that ship.

For many years it had been the custom to form a group of associated business men to take shares in a ship, dividing the profits made from its voyages, and of course taking responsibility for loss.

During World War I there was a big demand for all kinds of ships, especially the Maine-built schooners of the coastal trade. But after the war the business of the sailing vessels rapidly declined, and by 1925 few ships were showing any profit. The usual method of operating those coastal schooners was for the owners to place the management in the hands of a firm with wide contacts. Such a firm, operating a dozen or more ships, was Crowell and Thurlow of Boston that operated the Jennie Flood Kreger.

Sometimes a particular vessel was hit by hard luck beyond the already felt decline in business. Accidents added to the troubles. Especially shattering was an accident, for which a ship damaged by another was able to secure a verdict in the courts declaring the other ship at fault and liable to damage charges, not only for itself, but also for the ship it had hit.

One of several Waterville and Fairfield men who were owners of the Jennie Flood Kreger in 1927 was Edward W. Heath, who at that time was operating the mill at Benton Falls. The son of Col. Francis Heath, who with his brother William had recruit-

Waterville’s first Civil War company, Edward Heath was one of Waterville’s most prominent business men when the Jennie Flood Kreger encountered trouble.

Through the courtesy of present members of the Heath family, I have been permitted to see correspondence between Crowell and Thurlow and Mr. Heath which reveals an interesting story.

For almost a year the Jennie Flood Kreger had been tied up at Baltimore, unable to get a cargo. At last, on November 11, 1925 she had left Baltimore with 2,600 tons of paving brick for Port Tampa, Florida. Four days after Christmas, loaded with phosphate rock for Baltimore, she was being towed out of Tampa by the tug Neptune, when she went aground and sprang a leak. Not until early March were repairs completed so that she could proceed to Baltimore with her 2,583 tons of phosphate rock. On July 15, after another lay-over in Baltimore, she sailed without cargo for Hampton Roads. There she loaded with coal for Bangor; then sailed light to Boothbay Harbor; then, still without cargo, on to Savannah, Georgia. All that took so much time that it was November 19 before, loaded with railroad ties, the vessel was able to leave Savannah for New York. There, on January 3, 1927 the Jennie Flood Kreger was towed into dock at Perth Amboy, New Jersey.

I have told this at length, just as Crowell and Thurlow reported it to Edward Heath, in order to show you how the waiting time and the runs without cargo, interspersed only by a few cargo voyages, could easily put a ship’s accounts into the red ink of a substantial deficit.

Between November 11, 1925 and January 3, 1927 the Jennie Flood Kreger had been loaded with cargo on only four voyages, and had received for them all a total of $17,321. Meantime her cost of operation had been almost $40,000. So, if the vessel had encountered no bad luck because of grounding or collisions, she would still have been in debt to the extent of more than $22,000. But the Jennie did have bad luck.

To be sure, she had collected $6,000 from the owners of the tug Neptune that put her aground at Savannah, but the repairs thus necessitated and the consequent lay-over had cost far in excess of that amount. She had come into collision with another schooner, the Cora F. Cressey, and had expended $350 in legal fees before a court decided that neither vessel was to blame. So, for that collision the Jennie had to stand the cost of her own considerable repairs.

The Jennie’s worst misfortune had occurred more than five years before Crowell and Thurlow’s correspondence with Edward Heath. On March 26, 1921 she had come into collision with the steamship Eugene V. R. Thayer. Evidence showed the Jennie clearly to blame, and the best her owners could get was an out-of-court compromise settlement for the Jennie to pay the Thayer $12.000. In addition was the charge of the Jennie’s attorneys, Blodgett, Jones, Burnham and Bingham, for legal fees and expenses amounting to more than $4,000. When the $16,000 that represented the cost of that unfortunate collision was added to the operating deficit of $22,000, the Jennie Flood Kreger was in debt to the extent of $38,000.

When the operating firm laid their case before Edward Heath and the other owners in 1927, those owners had already been tapped for payment. On August 17, 1926 Crowell and Thurlow demanded $16,000 from the owners, assessed at $250 for each 1/64 share in the Jennie Flood Kreger. The operating firm was now trying to collect the balance of about $22,000. Of course Edward Heath and his fellow owners had to pay up, and that apparently was the last of the Jennie Flood Kreger.

When Captain Kreger was on a voyage, he kept in touch with his owners. Since they were business men, the Captain’s messages usually mentioned business. On Feb. 17, 1921, just a few months before his collision with the steamer Thayer, Capt. Kreger sent Edward Heath a picture post card from Barbados. The picture, carrying the caption “Typical House & Group of Natives, Barbados”, shows a rude, unpainted cabin, 12 colored persons of mixed age and sex, a placid cow, a frolicking calf, and a strutting rooster. On the other side the card carried Captain Kreger’s message to Edward Heath: “Sugar crop a failure here this year on account of no rain.”

Sixty years ago was the heyday of the dime novel. In the first decade of this century there flowed from the presses of America a veritable torrent of lurid tales, all written according to a stereotyped formula. They had a following similar to that which today worships the soap operas on radio and television. Some of those fantastic tales were published in a long series seemingly as unending as the neveraging Little Orphan Annie of the cartoons. One such series was a run of incredibly absurd, badly written detective stories called the Old Sleuth series. One of that series, a paperback carrying the title “Malcolm the Wonder” recently came to my attention.

I was not at all interested in the story, and I am sure it would not interest you. What did interest me was the advertising that appeared on the back of the volume, for the dime novel of 1900 was a common advertising medium of that period. First there was an ad for the Old Sleuth series itself, all 180 glaring, gory titles.

Now, do you remember awrit~rof gushy, sentimental stories, a woman named Laura Jean Libbey? She was represented in one of those ads. For 20 cents you could buy such titles as “The Alphabet of Love”,”Flirtations of a Beauty”, “Little Ruby’s Rival Lovers”, and “Only a Mechanic’s Daughter”.

Another writer of the time, not so well known as Laura Jean Libbey, was Mary J. Holmes. An ad lured you to seven of her books, including “Tempest and Sunshine” and “The Homestead on the Hillside”. She sold at a lower price than Laura Jean. You could buy anyone of Mary Jane’s books for 15 cents, or get all seven of them for one dollar.

Even if you are only of middle age, you must have heard of Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, but did you ever see an ad for it? There was one on the back of that old dime novel. The ad declared that Mrs. Winslow’s product was expecially good for infants in the teething stage. “Depend upon it”, said the ad, “it will give you mothers rest and to our infants relief.” With no mincing of words, no euphemisms for sake of politeness, the ad continues: “Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup corrects acidity and gives tone to the system. It will instantly relieve griping in the bowels and wind colic. The best and sweetest remedy in the world for diarrhea.” When we consider what we pay for medicines today, we may have some nostalgic envy for our grandmothers who bought Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup for 25 cents a bottle.

Sixty years ago volumes on the etiquette of courting were as plentiful as the ultra-frank sex books are today. One ad in that old dime novel was for a tome with the brief, pointed title “How to Woo”. The ad said, if you would buy it, you would get four books in one: If you are courting, want to court, or want to be courted, this book tells you how, when and whom, how to pop the question, how to end an unfavorable courtship, how to write love letters. In this valuable book you will find instruction on the flirtations of the handkerchief, the parasol, the glove and the fan; the language of flowers, how to kiss deliciously, and a cure for bashfulness. Think of it! All this and more for just 25 cents.”

Another book advertised in the dime novel was a marriage volume conspicuous  for its don’ts. Don’t marry a very small man; don’t dally about proposing; don’t marry a clown or a crank; don’t expect a husband to be wealthy while he is still young.”

Among other books advertised was “Reliable Guide to Magic”, “Art of Ventriloquism”, “Educating the Horse”, “How to Make Money Although a Woman”, and “Secrets for Farmers”.

At the turn of the century people were fascinated by the possibilities of electricity applied to medicine. For 25 cents you could then get a book called “Old Secrets and New Discoveries”. The ad said: “This book tells all about electrical psychology, showing you how to biologize any person, how to mesmerize him into doing your will. It tells how spiritualists can make writing appear. It gives you careful instructions to make a galvanic battery.”

That ad indeed went further than to suggest hypnotism and galvanism. It said: “This book tells you how to prevent mosquitoes from biting, how to make yellow butter in winter, how to make large noses small, how to make a horse stop cribbing, how to make gold and silver from block tin.”

Probably a lot of suckers fell for that ad. But let us not put on any air of superiority. Toward the new gadgets and the new wrinkles of our generation we are just as gullible. Remember what Abraham Lincoln said: “You can fool some of the people all of the time.”

Year: 1965