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:ass Yary Tomasi
63 Barre St.
Montpelier, Vt.
The Granite Worker
1.
AN IRISH SHED OVINERIS WIDOW
Her hair was snow white, her figure slender, almost
girlish in spite of her seventy -odd years. "It's been such
a lorv7; time since I've spoken of my husband's granite busi-
ness--" she murmured. "He's been dead about thirty years.
I sold the business as soon as I could, I never liked it
anyway."
The house stood in a quiet residential street close to
the city's business section. It was a large wooden structure
in green and white, gracefully terreted on the east. Vines
shaded the semi -circular porch; two rows of blooming irises
guarded the stone walk to the kitchen door; box -clipped
shrubbery lined the front walk. It made a charming private
home. You could understand the elderly woman's faint dis-
taste when she confessed that during the last years of her
husband's life it had been necessary to convert the house
into a boarding and rooming house for a number of their
employees, granite workers.
"I was born here in Vermont," Mrs. Niles said, "But
John, my husband, cane over from Ireland. He was a young
man and already proprietor of a shed when I not and married
him. People said be had a fine future, he was a good work-
man himself and he understood the business thoroughly. He
was a hardworking, sober young man those days. V:e were
very happy. He talked granite day and night, I didn't mind
it, it was good to see him so interested in the business.
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2.
It all changed when hi n uncle died. His uncle had been a
carver in Ireland, a skilled one. He'd worked in Barre only
five years when his lungs went bad. He and John were very
close friends, dearer to each other than most uncles and
nephews. His sickness was a blow to John. It seemed to
loose some devil in him. He began to drink heavily. Pretty
soon it was every day. It wasn't an unusual sight to see a
couple of his workmen half carrying him home when the shed
closed for the day.
"Of course, business suffered. It had to with a drunken
mind supervising it. I tried to talk to him. I told bin I
understood the friendship between him and his uncle, and res-
pected it, but nothing could brtng him back. He had to
think of the living. He had to think of his wife and his
three children. He wouldn't listen. When one of his em-
ployees, a o:tod friend of his, was forced to leave work,
too, because of his lungs, it was more than John could bear.
7e drank more than ever. I suggested putting a manager in
the shed, he wouldn't hear of it. Business became so bad
that we had to borrow money an the house to put into the
shed. We borrowed twice.
"I loved this home. bought it from the people
who built it. They owned the old Union HOUBO an Main Street.
_en, that was an hotel. I liked the privacy of this house.
But an eighteen room house for five people was a burden in
those times when little money was coming in. It could be
an asset. I saw my duty even though it was a painful one,
3.
and I did it. Jahn was so deep in liquor he never even
raised a finger to stop me. I went up to the shed one
afternoon and talked to every one of the unmarried men.
I explained the situation to them, though God knows they
must have known it, and told them I would be glad to have
any of them as roomers. They were good men, they were
eager to help. By the end of the next week six were rooming
at the house,- three Irish, two Scotch, and one Italian.
"The extra money was a God -send. I went even further.
boarded them. It was hard work even with a maid, but it
was worth it.
"I had hoped that my willingness to cooperate and my
example would serve to straighten Jahn. It didn't. He let
co completely. No, he didn't contract stonecutters' T. B.,
it was drinking that killed him. But I can't help feeling
that the granite industry which had taken his uncle and his
friend was indirectly responsible.
"After his death I was approached by one of the workmen
who assured me that under his management the shed could again
be operated on a paying basis. He was a sober minded man
and trustworthy, but I'd had enough of the granite industry.
I felt it had robbed me of a husband, and the children of a
father. I was eager to sever all association with it. When,
the right opportunity presented itself I sold the shed, and
paid back part of the money we'd borrowed on the house.
"Yes, I kept the roomers. The children were growing, I
wanted to give them a good education. Neither of the boys
4.
lives in Vermont now. One became a civil engineer, the other
a doctor. They have both done well. My daughter married a
local merchant.
"About twenty years ago she, her husband, and two
children came to live with me. She wanted privacy as much
as I did, we gave up the roomers. She and her husband paid
off the rest of the mortgage. Part of the house really be-
longs to them now. It's just as well that way. I don't
think the boys will ever come back to Vermont. Not to live.
They've families of their own, and deeply rooted in their
communities.
"There are eight of us in this house now. Five grand-
children, my daughter and son-in-law, and myself. The children
are grown. The oldest girl graduated from college last year;
the youngest boy will finish high school next year.
"The three grandsons know that their grandfather was
in the granite business. They don't seen to be interested
in it. I'm glad of that. I seldom speak to then of those
past years."