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....Early
in the summer of 1940, about a month after Frank Beazley
was confirmed a Catholic, the mother superior of St. Joseph’s
Orphanage sent a letter to Nellie Beazley, Frank’s
grandmother. Frank would turn 12 this year, the nun wrote,
and the orphanage did not keep children past that age. The
Beazleys had to take the boy or send him somewhere else.
....‘‘Dear
Sister,’’ Nellie wrote back.
....‘‘Just
a few lines to let you know I got in touch with my daughter,
Francis Beazley’s mother. I explained everything to
her. As she is not settled in the one place very long, she
thought it best to put Francis in a boarding school. She
thought you might know of a reasonable school to send him,
until such time as she is settled and able to take him.
....‘‘If
you know of a place and would let me know, I would write
for the particulars and make arrangements to have him sent
there. Until then, do you think you would be able to keep
him?’’
Nellie did not disclose that Frank’s mother, Edna,
30 years old now, had married a soldier and moved to Ontario.
....The
nun responded that she was unaware of a suitable school
in Nova Scotia. Perhaps there was one in Montreal, 500 miles
away.
....‘‘Do
you think your daughter could find out about this?’’
the nun wrote. ‘‘In the meantime, Francis may
stay with us but we would be glad if you could hasten matters
as it will help our routine. We hope that you are well and
trust our dear Lord to help you through this. He will not
forsake you.’’
....The
Beazleys did not send Frank to a school.
....Instead,
unknown to him, they decided to place him in a foster home.
....A
short while later, Sister Rita Marie told Frank to dress
in his Sunday best and come down to the parlor. This time,
she had not made a mistake. This time, visitors really were
calling on Frank.
A couple in their 50s introduced themselves. They said they
knew about Frank, but insisted that they were unrelated
to him. They were only interested in his welfare.
....They
would like to send you to a foster home, Sister Rita Marie
said. What do you think of that?
....But
this is my home, Frank said.
....I’m
sorry, Francis, Sister Rita Marie said, but you have to
go. Your time is up here.
....JULY
26, 1940, dawned cold and damp. Frank attended
Mass, ate his final meal at St. Joseph’s, gathered
up his clothes, and went to the parlor to wait. When he
heard the sound of tires on gravel, he looked outside. A
green Dodge motored up the driveway.
....Are
you ready, Francis? Sister Rita Marie said.
....I
don’t want to go, Frank said.
....He
had no choice.
....You’re
leaving, Francis, the sister said, but always remember one
thing: There’s a fork in the road. There’s a
good route and a bad one. Whatever you choose, let’s
hope it’s the good one.
She hugged the boy, the first time anyone had done that
at St. Joseph’s. Then a woman and a man walked into
the room.
....My
name is Gertrude Henn, the woman said. And this is my husband,
William.
....William
was a petty officer in the Royal Canadian Navy. Gertrude
was at home.
....Gertrude
told Frank about the place where he would be living with
three other children whom the Henns had adopted. The Henns
had dogs, pigs, chickens and horses. They lived near fields
that bordered woods where blueberries grew and trout swam
in the streams. Gertrude said: You’re going to love
your new home! You can do anything you want.
....Sister
Rita Marie asked Frank to come back and visit, and then
she said goodbye. He climbed into the back seat of the Henns’
car, wrapping himself in a blanket for warmth against the
raw day.
He cried as the orphanage disappeared from sight.
....THE
HOUSES thinned and soon Frank was in the country,
traveling south on Prospect Road, which led to the Atlantic
Ocean. They passed weather-beaten buildings and the Nova
Scotia meadows, thick with wildflowers now at the height
of summer. They went through the village of Goodwood, with
its general store and abandoned dance hall. Fifteen or so
miles from Halifax, they stopped at a one-story white house.
....The
Henns introduced Frank to their two sons, with whom he would
share a room, and their daughter, who was 5. They showed
Frank the barn, where their Irish setters and Newfoundlands
lived, and a nearby cabin, where the children would sleep
on hot summer nights. The house had no running water, but
it did have electric lights and a hand-crank telephone.
The Henns had a housemaid who cooked on a wood stove. And
they had a talking parrot, which William had brought back
from one of his overseas voyages.
....Maybe
it won’t be so bad, after all, Frank thought.
....But
the carefree life that his foster mother had promised quickly
proved a lie. Frank had been at the foster home only a few
days when Gertrude put him to work fixing fences, chopping
wood, painting, cleaning the chicken coop, and emptying
the chamber pot that she and her husband used. The children
were restricted to the outhouse, even in the dead of winter.
....Like
the nuns, Gertrude did not abide idleness.
....What
are you sitting there for? she would scream. There’s
work to be done! Get going!
....And
her parrot would repeat: Get going! Get going! Get going.
....SOON
AFTER moving in, Frank had a strange encounter
with Gertrude. Unable to make sense of it, the boy asked
Ronnie, who at 14 was the oldest of the Henns’ children,
if he could explain.
....What’s
the matter with your mother? Frank said. She slapped me
across the leg for nothing. Is she crazy?
....She’s
not crazy, Ronnie said. She’s drunk.
....Drunk?
....Drunk.
That’s how she gets when she has beer.
....Frank
had seen her drinking, beginning every morning and continuing
until she turned in for the night with her parrot and her
Pekingese dog, which snarled at everyone but her. Gertrude
favored seed beer, home-brewed and bottled by a man who
lived down Prospect Road. The liquor was potent. Gertrude
drank it warm.
....THAT
FALL, Frank attended classes in a Presbyterian
church that served as a one-room schoolhouse during the
week. Sixteen children were enrolled, including a lobsterman’s
daughter on whom Frank had a crush. Frank was something
of a cutup, a boy fond of practical jokes and clowning around.
He liked to tease the girls and pull the bows from their
hair. When Miss Tweed took her lunch break, he sometimes
danced on his desk or climbed the church pulpit to deliver
a humorous sermon. He sometimes led his classmates in song:
We’re in the jailhouse now! We’re in the
jailhouse now!
....As
the long Nova Scotia winter approached, greater Halifax
experienced the first casualties of a diphtheria epidemic
that would claim hundreds, including two of Frank’s
schoolmates — two sisters from a family of 13 who
developed sore throats and fevers, then turned blue and
died. Frank remained healthy, and Gertrude kept on him,
demanding that he complete chores before school and chores
when he returned home. Cold weather brought new obligations:
breaking the ice in the well, hauling the coal, feeding
the potbelly stove that was insufficient to keep the entire
house warm. Frank slept in long underwear and closed the
holes in his shoes with cardboard.
| |
Frank
Beazley as a young teen.
Photo credit: Marjorie Young and John Milligan |
....As
the days shortened, Gertrude’s drinking worsened.
When the housemaid was off, Gertrude, too drunk to cook,
sat with her parrot and her dog as the children scrounged
sugar and stale bread for dinner. When they displeased her,
she threw shoes, or hit them with cat-o’-nine-tails
or a wooden stick or the back of her hand.
....Like
the children, her husband, William, feared Gertrude.
....A
mild-mannered man, English by birth, William seemed doomed.
He was just 21 when he lost his first wife and their 15-month-old
daughter in The Explosion of 1917. His second marriage,
to Gertrude Kidney, a woman of Irish descent, promised a
new beginning — and then her demons emerged. Like
Francis L. Beazley, William Henn lived in the shadow of
a dark-hearted woman.
....William
was often at sea or the Halifax navy base where he was stationed.
If his wife was drunk when he arrived home from duty, as
she ordinarily was, he often got back into his car and returned
to the barracks.
....Drinking
again, huh? he said once when he came home during a snowstorm.
....No,
no, Gertrude said.
....You’re
drunk again.
....No,
just one little drink.
....Goodbye,
William said. He started toward his car.
....You
ain’t goin’ nowhere, his wife said.
....Gert,
get out of my way.
....The
two scuffled out of the house and into the snow. William
broke free and got into his car. Gertrude, dressed in a
nightgown, stood in front of the vehicle.
....You
are not going to that base! she screamed. You’re going
to have to run me over first!
....The
Henn boys led their mother back into the house. William
cleared the driveway and headed north on Prospect Road.
....SOME
WHILE after leaving St. Joseph’s Orphanage,
Gertrude told Frank that his grandmother and grandfather,
Nellie and Francis L. Beazley, whom Frank believed he had
never met, would be visiting.
....I
don’t want you to say anything bad, Gertrude said.
Tell them you enjoy the place, that you’re happy.
....Gertrude
didn’t want to jeopardize the money the Beazleys were
sending for Frank’s maintenance. She needed it for
alcohol.
....A
bus stopped outside the house and off stepped the couple
who’d visited the orphanage. Frank was stunned, but
said nothing.
....The
man asked how he was.
....Frank
said that he was fine.
....Are
you going to school?
....Yes
I am.
....Are
you getting the stamps that we’re sending?
....He
was mailing Frank 25-cent war stamps, similar to U.S. Savings
Bonds, that the Canadian government sold to help underwrite
the Allied effort.
....Frank
said that he was receiving the stamps. He did not say that
Gertrude was selling them to buy beer.
....Nellie
did not confirm her relationship to the boy during the visit,
but Frank’s grandfather did.
Francis, he said, we’re going to make a home for you.
You’re only going to be here a little while.
His stay at the foster home would be much longer than that.
TOMORROW | 50 CREIGHTON STREET
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