Burning Bridges, Buying Bush Clothes
Nan read this 1939 book before she and Richard moved to their island in 1941. |
Two letters written to Nan were discovered tucked inside the pages a book by a woman in La Ronge, Saskatchewan. As I attempt to piece together Nan's fractured history, these shards of her memory are like gems to me. The first of the two letters is shown below. The second will be featured in an upcoming post.
The day the deed to their island in northern Ontario arrived in November 1940, Nan and Richard held a little celebratory ceremony. After that, they started "burning bridges -- the contacts with the advertising agencies, and recording companies, and the film companies with which we had worked," Richard recalls in his Maclean's article, "From Broadway to Bush" (Sept. 1, 1946). "The most spectacular conflagration took place when I quit my job as executive staff writer with NBC, and we watched the security of a steady pay cheque go up in smoke. In the embers lay my experience of over 10 years active affiliation with the [radio] networks, and the end of Nan's successful career as an actress."
In
1940, Nan and Richard were almost broke. The cost of living in New York
was high. In addition, Nan's emergency surgery for a perforated ulcer in 1939 had set them back. As Richard explains in his Maclean's article, "Nan's fancy surgical needlework
had been done by an expensive authority on such interior decorating."
The couple spent their final days in New York getting rid of everything
they owned - things "that would be of no practical use in a land of
coal-oil lamps and wood stoves."
Nan was empowered with the necessary skills to live in the wilds of northern Ontario after reading this book, originally published in 1916. |
In the months before they left New York, Nan and Richard did some research about how to live in the north. Richard read books by Jack London, Robert W. Service, fiction about the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and even a Boy Scout manual. [Source: Richard Morenus, Crazy White Man, 1952.]
Two of the books Nan read were written by fellow New Yorker Kathrene Pinkerton: Woodcraft for Women (New York: The MacMillan Co., 1916, 1924) and Wilderness Wife (Carrick and Evans, 1939). Like Nan, Pinkerton’s husband Robert, a newspaperman, had been told by his doctor that he had to give up his work and lead an outdoor life. The Pinkertons packed up and headed for an area near Atikokan in northern Ontario where they built a log cabin. Kathrene’s book Wilderness Wife is an account of their five years in the bush country.
Outfitting and Preparations
Catalogue illustration from Von Lengerke & Antoine, 1939. Source |
Pinkerton's book Woodcraft for Women covers all the practical knowledge and skills a woman would need in the wilderness, from clothing selection to canoeing to hunting and fishing:
- On outdoor cooking: “If a woman attempts, over an open fire, the usual city food, cooked in the usual city manner, she invites hardships and disaster for herself.”
- On clothing: “Never should the cotton shirt be too thin to afford protection from the sun’s rays and never should the flannel shirt be too heavy to rob violent exercise of its pleasure.”
- On footwear: “To attempt a wilderness journey on high heels would be to invite a sprained ankle. … Moccasins made by Indians are the most satisfactory.”
- On map reading: “One of the best methods of becoming ‘of the party’ and not ‘with it’ is to know the route and the general topographical features of the country.”
- On paddling a canoe: “Because so large a part of the pleasure of a canoe trip lies in this individual endeavour, the woman who does not paddle loses the witchery of the canoe vacation.”
- On portaging: “It would be well for every woman at least once to have packed a heavy load across a portage. In that way as in no other she can grasp the point of view of the man who has a long, heavy carry before him or who is straining under a big load down the last lap of a portage.”
- On fishing: “The novice fisherwoman should never inflict her company upon a real fishing party unless she has a sincere desire to fish. To fish flippantly, to tire readily and then to demand an early return to camp is to make oneself a public nuisance, and the woman who cannot bait her own hook, rig her own tackle and care for her own equipment is no less annoying.”
- On hunting: “The woman who has stalked a deer or a moose, approached and shot him, has earned him. To her will come a thrill of personal power.”
Fashionable outdoor clothing for American women in 1940 included jodhpurs (riding breeches) and high lace-up boots. |
Arrow shirts ad, 1949. Source |
Nan's task in buying bush clothes was even more challenging. As Pinkerton points out in Woodcraft for Woman, the woodswoman was at a disadvantage in the selection of outdoor clothing. "In few cities have her needs been met with the same generosity that has characterized the attitude of sportsmen outfitters toward men campers." The outdoors was considered to be male turf. Since the days of Daniel Boone, men did not take women with them into the wilderness. "Somehow, out of this neglect, arose the impression that wood joys were for men alone," Pinkerton writes. "Alone, isolated enthusiasts worked out their dress, camping, and equipment problems."
Pinkerton's First Letter to Nan
Kathrene Pinkerton's letter to Nan, Jan. 23, 1940. Source: Darlene Studor, La Ronge, Saskatchewan. |
Nan began corresponding with Kathrene Pinkerton late in 1939, a year and a half before she and Richard moved to northern Ontario. On January 23, 1940, Pinkerton replied to thank Nan for her "very gracious letter" about Wilderness Wife. "I am always happy to have the book fall into the hands of people who love the woods, and now I am delighted to have it read by people who are contemplating a wilderness home," Pinkerton wrote. "This is just to tell you that you have my very best wishes for your venture and if you find the fun and the joy from a cabin that we did, you will agree that the hardships and the annoyances are a very minor part of the experience."
And They're Off
The night before they left New York, Nan and Richard partied with their head-shaking friends who were certain the couple was doomed and gone forever. The next morning without fanfare, they loaded their suitcases, boxes, a typewriter, and their cocker spaniel Nik into their coupe and headed north. It was May 1, 1941.
NEXT: The Big Move to Northern Ontario - Click HERE
PREVIOUS: Nan and Richard Buy an Island - Click HERE
INDEX TO BLOG SERIES: Click HERE
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