Hattie's World

By Thomas Bauer

Owen Winthrop, the profligate son of a New England business tycoon, has offended the town's morals one last time. His father disowns him and sends him into exile with a sizable amount of money he can waste or use to make a life for himself. He comes to California where he discovers a small fishing village with an abundant harvest of sardines. The fishermen make very little money off the catch, since most of the profits go to the canneries in Monterey. Determined to build a cannery there, Owen goes to Monterey to learn the business. After a year of working in one of the canneries, he returns and builds his own cannery which brings him enormous wealth. Ruthlessly, he forces all the town's businesses to share their profits with him. In complete control of the town, he builds other businesses, including a notorious brothel.
Convinced he needs a wife to be accepted socially, Owen marries a girl he met in Monterey. It is a loveless marriage, but when a daughter, Hattie, is born, he learns he is capable of love and becomes devoted to the child. She grows into a beautiful and confident young woman with a thirst for life outside of the confines of her home. Fascination with a Portuguese fisherman results in a torrid love affair that results in a grisly murder. To punish her, Owen confines her to their home, where she lives in isolation for twenty years until his death.
Made heiress by to a great fortune by her father as both a joke and revenge on a town that reviled him, she emerges from isolation determined to atone for the sins she discovered her father has committed. Her crusade takes her from pariah to sainthood as she molds the town in her own image. Her deeds and gifts to the town makes her everyone's Aunt Hattie in this family saga that spans the Twentieth Century.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350943450

Thomas Bauer

Thomas Bauer ist Professor für Islamwissenschaft und Arabistik an der Universität Münster, Mitglied der Nordrhein-Westfälischen Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Künste und wurde mit dem Leibniz-Preis der DFG ausgezeichnet. Er ist außerdem Preisträger des Tractatus 2018 und erster Preisträger des wbg-Wissen-Preises, der ihm 2019 für sein Buch »Warum es kein islamisches Mittelalter gab. Das Erbe der Antike und der Orient« zugesprochen wurde.

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Hattie’s World

©Thomas Bauer

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 979-8-35094-344-3 (print)

ISBN 979-8-35094-345-0 (eBook)

Contents

OWEN

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

HATTIE

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

AUNT HATTIE

16

17

18

19

20

HERBIE BANKS

21

The gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children.

Euripides

OWEN

1

Cornelius Winthrop had tired of hearing his only son and heir, Owen, called a bad seed. He heard it from his pastor, he overheard it at the café and at work. He even heard it from his wife, the boy’s mother. The boy will come to his senses, he would say over and over. He seemed to believe it. Young men sow wild oats until such time as they recognize the reality of what their role in life is to be. Then they begin to see the future clearly and behave with decorum in the present. Owen was a smart lad. One day, he would take over the family business just as his grandfather and father had.

The elder Winthrop was a pillar of the community, owner of the Winthrop Granite Works and the richest man in town, a leader of the local Republican party, a regular worshiper at Sunday service, and a member of one of the town’s oldest families in Orville, New Hampshire. Even more impressive, he had been a decorated cavalry officer in the Spanish American War and claimed to be friends with the president. Actually, his unit had met up with the Rough Riders outside of Santiago and had shared mess with them. He had met Roosevelt and they had exchanged a few pleasantries, but that was all. No one but Cornelius himself knew that little secret. Regardless, he was the most respected man in town. As such, he did not take kindly to slights against him or his family. His son had been a wild child and was now a wild young man. Cornelius could only hope that soon he would cease to be an embarrassment.

Young Owen had a natural charm that he could turn on or off at a moment’s notice. His temper was not so easy to control. At school, he had often been in trouble for fighting. Some even considered him a bully. No punishment seemed to work on the boy. The razor strop was met with disdain. The boy often cursed at his father during the whippings, making the beatings more severe. He bore his father’s stern lectures in silence and soon forgot them. When Owen grew as tall as his father, Cornelius knew better than to take out the weapon of discipline. The boy was just as likely to wrest it from his father’s hands and use it on the parent. Cornelius would often walk out of a room he had just shared with his son mumbling incorrigible. Adulthood did not necessarily bring maturity and responsibility with it.

The young man was certainly enterprising. As a student, he had almost been expelled from high school for putting a live king snake in his geometry teacher’s desk drawer. After graduation, he and his cronies had led the Orville police department on a wild goose chase by sending a telegraph from Boston stating that a non-existent murderer named Jake Dooley was on the loose and residing in Orville. Young Owen did not seem to enjoy his successful pranks as much as he felt triumphant, as though he had succeeded in administering justice or vengeance. Justice and vengeance for what was a riddle. The boy had been born into a privileged life. No one had done him harm. Quite the opposite was true. Owen’s drunken revelries were legendary and his pranks had the townspeople fearing they would be his next victims. His father had been awakened many times in the wee hours of the morning by the police dropping off his drunken son on the doorstep.

One morning, the police chief, who stood over the crumpled body on the front porch was forced to say to Cornelius Winthrop, If this behavior continues, we will no longer be bringing the young man home. The next time, you will have to come to the station and bail him out of jail.

It won’t happen again, Cornelius assured him. It did, but they continued to honor the family patriarch by bringing his son home.

Owen had never been one to romanticize his existence. His mother might wax poetic about the colors of a New Hampshire autumn, but Owen failed to see the beauty. To teach him discipline, his father had hired him out to rake the leaves in neighbors’ yards. He loved sledding and ice skating in winter, but the cold, the digging snow away from the front porch, and slogging through the slush on the way to school dampened his enthusiasm. Spring meant allergies, not bird songs and blossoms. Summertime meant swimming and boating at the lake, but it also meant mosquitoes, heat, and humidity. Now, as a young man, he could find distractions to make life more appealing, drinking, whoring, and over-indulging in activities that most residents of Orville found repulsive in the young man.

The people of Orville were New Englanders, proud, industrious, often terse in speech, initially cool to strangers, hardened against the elements, restrained. Their ancestors had been those austere Puritans who had been obedient servants of God due to their fear of the hellfire awaiting those who sinned. The lives of many of Orville’s residents were nearly as rigid. Owen saw none of the traits of his fellow Yankees as virtues. He often explained that he got in trouble so often to liven things up. Orville was a dull place because it was filled with dull people. He wasn’t about to become his father or any of his neighbors. Even though he was destined to inherit a fortune and the most profitable business in Orville, Owen longed to be anywhere else in the world but his home town, someplace far away from the eyes and ears of busybodies, some place he could do damn well what he pleased with no consequences. He had gone from being a little hellion as a child to becoming the town’s leading libertine. He would often tell his friends, The old man wants me to become just like him. Fat chance I’ll ever be a stuck-in-the-mud fuddy-duddy like him. All he cares about is his reputation and that damned rock at the granite works. I’m going to be my own man and do whatever I like.

Owen Winthrop considered himself a lady’s man. He was quite a handsome young man and roguishly charming. Women were naturally drawn to him. Unfortunately, his reputation often preceded him. Despite his appeal, he was often rejected. He had not used his former sweethearts kindly. He had pawed them when they didn’t wish to be pawed, impregnated two of the town’s belles before cruelly jilting them, and actually struck some of his dates who wouldn’t let him have his way with them. Cornelius Winthrop spent far too much time being confronted by vengeful fathers. As he was the wealthiest man in town, some were appeased financially, others were intimidated by his social standing and backed away from their accusations.

Papa Winthrop continued to provide his errant son with a generous allowance in hopes that he would eventually develop an appreciation for thrift and an eye to his future financial situation. Owen continued to squander his allowance and indulge in pleasure. Unwillingly, he began to join his father at the granite works, learning a business in which he had no interest, recognizing that with his father’s empire he would one day be able to fund the pleasures and vices he was accustomed to, once he inherited it all. Owen found the work dull. Though he was bored, he showed a knack for business. When he expended enough energy to come to work, he would often find errors in the company’s ledger. His father often found him a valuable asset, but his work ethic could be infuriating.

There was one woman in Orville who was not intimidated by Owen’s reputation. She had a reckless streak herself. Molly Fitzpatrick was young, beautiful, and anxious for adventure. She had a wild side and had once been as uninhibited in her youthful behavior as Owen. It was a part of her character she was forced to keep under wraps. She hadn’t found love in her natural life style, so she settled for stability. Her husband, the mayor of Orville, could not provide her with the fun she craved. Mayor Collin Fitzpatrick, a widower, had met Molly on a business trip to Boston. She had set her sights on him in the hopes he could provide her with the wherewithal to a prosperous and comfortable life without realizing how dull it would be. In spite of her husband’s affection, kindness, and generosity, and the fact that the mayor had provided her with all the trappings she had dreamt of as a girl, she had not found joy in her new life.

Molly met Owen Winthrop at the punch bowl at a party in honor of her husband’s re-election. It was a staid affair which the two decided to liven up by having a drinking competition. Both became drunk enough to embarrass their families, but at the same time recognized in each other a zest for the pleasures in life that had been denied to her and had made him the fuel for town gossip. Both were anxious to re-connect with each other, for there had been an intense mutual attraction. How, was the question. Molly’s social position forbade her from entering the saloons Owen frequented. He viewed the Fitzpatrick home, surrounded by a high wall, as a fortress keeping the object of his desire a prisoner within.

Of the two potential lovers, Owen was the more ingenious. He began to loiter outside the mayor’s house, hoping to see some sign of life. After a few days, the matronly house keeper who did the cleaning and cooking, emerged. Owen followed her to Mason’s Grocery Store and cornered her in front of the butcher’s display case. I have a very important letter for your mistress, he said. The woman looked at him with suspicion. It’s from an old friend I happened to meet in Manchester. If you would be good enough to give it to Mrs. Fitzpatrick. He handed her a twenty-dollar bill for her trouble. With that gesture, her countenance brightened and she snatched it before he had a chance to change his mind.

Unaware of Molly’s habits or the restrictions her husband had placed on her, the letter asked her to meet Owen at the bandstand in the park the following afternoon at two o’clock. He knew that chances were slim she would meet him, but he had nothing better to do than wait at the appointed spot. Fifteen minutes after the scheduled time, he saw a figure sashaying across the lawn in his direction. She was wearing a pink dress and approaching him in a most coquettish manner.

Well, here I am. What was so important that you had to see me? she asked coyly.

I haven’t been able to sleep since we met, he said.

That’s hardly likely, she said, fluttering her eyes.

It’s true. I’ve been haunted by your beauty.

That struck a chord, but she said, I’m sure you say that to all the girls.

I may have, he admitted, but I never meant it until now.

She poked her index finger against his chest. I’m sure your intentions are less than admirable.

They are indeed. When can we be alone?

But we are alone.

You know very well that I mean really alone.

You don’t waste words, do you?

Not when I feel the way I do about you.

And how exactly do you feel? she asked flirtatiously.

I would guess I feel about you exactly how you feel about me. There was a connection between us and you know it.

We had some harmless fun, but I’m a married woman.

What difference does that make if you feel as I think you do?

Most people would say it makes all the difference in the world.

Are you most people?

I certainly hope not. They had been sitting on the steps of the bandstand. Now she sidled up tight against him. She had stopped playing coy. Mrs. Mulcahy’s day off is Monday. She always catches a train and visits her son in Concord. I’m always alone. Be discreet and make certain no one sees you going through the front gate.

Their weekly trysts began. It was always the same. Molly would meet him at the front door and quickly usher him inside. The moment the door would shut, he would begin kissing her and caressing her all over. The two could barely struggle up the stairs they were so anxious to consummate their union.

Is that what you’ve been craving? he asked after the first time they were together.

You’re very arrogant, she replied. I have to admit, it’s been years since I’ve felt anything close.

Does that mean I’m to make a return appearance?

It means you had better be here next Monday.

In the past, Owen had been erratic and unreliable. Now, one could rely on his promptness each Monday. Molly began to feel the passion she had been missing and fell hopelessly in love. Owen found a willing conduit where he could fulfill his desires. He appeared to be so ardent, it was easy to mistake his lust for love. Molly began to hope that Owen would soon ask her to run away with him. Owen hoped things would remain the same. Every time she would share her dream of a life with him, Owen would remind her that one day he would inherit the granite works and be a very rich man, far richer than her husband. He was biding time. If he could convince her to wait until such time as he would claim his inheritance, perhaps she could put aside her foolish fantasies and continue to be available each Monday. That would allow him to slip away and rush to the next affair.

It was a beautiful spring day when Mayor Fitzpatrick’s eleven a.m. appointment cancelled. He gave his secretary, Harold, the rest of the day off and decided to go home to have lunch with his lovely young wife. It was a three-block walk from City Hall to his house. The air was balmy, the trees blossoming, and the songs of birds couldn’t help but make him cheerful. His wife was not to be found in her usual chair in the parlor. Perhaps she was upstairs preening herself. There was no question she was upstairs. What the mayor found would change the lives of all three occupants of the house. Before the offended husband had time to fetch his hunting rifle, Owen managed to grab his trousers and race naked down the stairs all the while trying to get his legs into his pants. Once he did, he ran full speed down the street the two blocks to the Winthrop mansion. His mother immediately grasped the situation and urged her wayward son to hide himself upstairs. It wasn’t more than five minutes later that there was a loud pounding on the Winthrop front door. Mrs. Winthrop calmly opened the door to find the mayor on the front porch holding Owen’s shirt and shoes. I’m so sorry, she said, but Owen isn’t here right now. The mayor dumped the clothes at her feet and stormed off. He got in his buggy and made his way to the granite works.

He stunned Cornelius by barging into his office. When I find your son, he said, I’m going to kill him. The two men were old friends, but on this fine spring day, it was obvious the conversation would not be a cordial one. Mayor Fitzpatrick described the disgusting scene he had happened upon, sparing no prurient detail. He’s not going to get away with it, he insisted.

Be reasonable, Collin.

This is no time for reason. A crime has been committed.

Cornelius Winthrop paced the floor of his office, which overlooked the quarry. It seems to me, old friend, that your wife shares the guilt as well.

Leave her to me, said the mayor. As for your son, either turn him into the police, or suffer his loss at my hand.

Taking the law into your own hands would mean the loss of everything you have, Collin. You would be arrested, probably hanged.

It would be worth it.

Cornelius had always feared his son’s antics might come to a point of no return. He had thought often of what he would do in such a case. Owen had finally done the unthinkable, put his life at risk and brought the ultimate shame upon the family name. He leaned his head against the wall of his office in a hopeless gesture. Agonized, he pounded his fist against the wall. He turned back to the mayor. Leave Owen’s fate in my hands and I promise you that you will never again set eyes on him. None of us will. He will never set foot in New Hampshire again. Cornelius had not had time to mull the situation over in his mind, but he realized he would have to do something drastic. Owen had overstayed his welcome in Orville.

When he returned home from work, Cornelius called for his son to join him in the study. He ordered Owen to sit in the same chair he always had during one of his father’s lengthy lectures. This one would prove shorter than most. The only difference between you and the Prodigal Son in the scriptures, said the senior Winthrop, is he returned home to a warm welcome. I can never extend that privilege to you, because you can never come home again. My patience is at an end. The generosity and love your mother and I have heaped on you has not been received as it should be. You have been ungrateful, disobedient, and now this. You have put your very life in danger and brought disgrace to your family. It is time for you to leave us forever.

But father……. The young man tried to protest, but he was not allowed to complete a sentence.

You have made your bed. You must leave this house immediately, leave the town, leave the state. If there is anywhere in the universe you have always dreamed of visiting, now is the time to realize that dream.

As a boy, Owen had often thumbed through a book of photographs and descriptions of places in California. It was a land of majestic mountain peaks, vast deserts, giant trees, and a coastline that went on forever. It had seemed a land of adventure, dreams, exotic, alluring, a wild place. Perhaps it was the wild that had appealed to him most. New Hampshire had granite, but California seemed to have everything, most of all opportunity. California, he said.

Very well, his father said, California it will be then. He laid a large packet of bills on the table. It was fifteen thousand dollars in cash Cornelius had removed from his account at the bank. This is enough to last any frugal person years or provide one with a decent business investment. If you insist on spending it on women and drink, so be it. When it is gone, you are on your own. There will be no father to come to your rescue. You have been taught how to run a business and you have also mastered becoming a profligate. You can choose which path you wish to follow. I won’t stand in your way. You have already hurt your mother beyond the point of her forgiveness. Leave immediately and don’t look back.

Cornelius Winthrop left his son with mouth agape and went to the railroad station and booked a one-way ticket to San Francisco. The train would leave in the morning. Owen’s future was now exclusively in his own hands. He had no choice but to go to his room and pack his bags.

2

Owen had ceased feeling sorry for himself even before the train left the station. He began to anticipate the life that lay ahead, one that was to be lived on his own terms. He had no intention of giving up the sort of life he had grown accustomed to, but he also had no intention of squandering away the small fortune his father had given him. A person’s character cannot change overnight, but one can be frightened into the realization that he must make a life altering choice. Owen knew very well who he was, but he also realized he could not be that person without the riches he was accustomed to having at his disposal. This new life would have to provide that wealth. He was not so naïve as to believe he wouldn’t have to do something he had always dreaded, work. At least it would be work of his choice and not his father’s. The bundle of money his father had placed in his hands could give him a year or two of the life he had previously enjoyed, but when it was gone, he would be left in poverty. Thoughts of himself out on the streets, a virtual beggar, was a great motivator. The money would have to be invested and not used frivolously. He would have to be inflexible, perhaps ruthless and pitiless. Since he lacked empathy for his fellow human beings, he would have no trouble living up to the task. He was off on an adventure and feeling the anxiety of an uncertain future.

On the train, he had plenty to think about. It had to be pretty much about the past because he had no idea what lay ahead. He had never been completely on his own before. The train was noisy and it was hard to concentrate on anything. Owen was neither a reader nor one for admiring the scenery. Sometimes he was so bored he walked up and down the aisles. There wasn’t even a woman on board who had captured his fancy. At night, he couldn’t sleep. The sound of wheels on track might be hypnotic to some or romantic to others, but to him it was just noise.

A large group of new passengers boarded the train in Chicago. Among them was a lawyer from San Francisco named Forrest Hamilton. That evening, he entered the dining car and saw the empty seat at Owen’s table and asked if he could join him for dinner. It was the first conversation Owen had engaged in since boarding the train in New Hampshire. The lawyer,