We are restoring a turn of the century Victorian home. We have, what were called 'Servant's Quarters' on the upper level of the home. I have gathered as much information as possible, through a 1930 census and have researched housekeepers, etc. in this area from that time period. So, I decided to write a blog about what her life might have been like when she worked for the family that owned our lovely home.
Oh my, I am just so tired. Such an incredibly long day. And it's so hot. As I trudged up the long narrow staircase to my third-floor room, I had to stop and try and grab a breath of air after walking up just a few stairs. As I slowly climb up this tight, dark back stairway, I find it hard to even take a full deep breath. Today had to have been the hottest day of this summer. No breeze, just heavy, hot, wet air.
As soon as I finally reach my room, I plop down on my bed, take off my heavy shoes and thick stockings. Standing up, I untie my apron and loosen the buttons on my skirt and blouse. I finally start to feel a little relief. Taking my handkerchief from my skirt pocket, I dampened it with water from the wash basin on my dressing table. Holding it to my face and neck, even though it was warm, I felt some relief. The handkerchief would warm up quickly, so I kept dipping it in the wash basin and reapplying to my face and neck. Lifting my skirt above my knees, I stretch my legs out and put my bare feet up on the windowsill. No real breeze, but dusk was approaching, and hopefully it might start to cool down a bit.
I wear a uniform Monday through Saturday. My uniform is a full gray skirt with a plain white cotton blouse and a white or black apron. Black is for dinner and when we have guests. White is a full apron for everyday housework, cooking, cleaning and taking care of the children. My stockings are soft cotton, black in color and my shoes are black and practical. I also wear a little round white hat that has netting into which I tuck my hair. The lady of the house told me that she picked out the material to have a summer uniform skirt made for me and that it should be ready in a few weeks. The wool uniform skirt that I wear is heavy and is hot even in the winter.
I am the housekeeper, cook, and nanny for a very nice family in Menominee, MI. Where I sleep is still referred to as "Servants Quarters", but we are no longer called "Servants". Acquaintances of mine that have the same job responsibilities that I have, are referred to by many different titles. I am mostly called Susan, which is my name. The children refer to me as 'Mrs' which is what a lot of female house help is called whether they are married or not. I am not married but hope to be someday. The family I work for is younger and the home that we live in is modest in contrast to many other very formal homes in the city. The Master of the house works in the logging industry.
A summer rainstorm would be welcome tonight. It would cool the air and the dampness. I lean back and close my eyes and try to imagine a cool breeze blowing on my face. Did I imagine that or was the air actually starting to move. I peeked out of my window and could see dark clouds in the distance. Maybe the air is beginning to move a little. I wouldn't even mind thunder and lightning tonight...anything to cool down the temperature. I reached for a piece of cardboard that I keep on my dressing table that I fashioned into a fan. Fanning my damp face helped a bit. I was too tired to care, and I fell asleep. I woke up to thunder and constant lightening. Normally it would kind of scare me, being on the top floor and all, but tonight, I thanked the Lord for this wind and rain. I closed my window almost all of the way but could still feel a nice breeze sneaking in from the crack I left at the bottom. The lady of the house rang and then called up from the stairwell to make sure that I had closed the window. I told her that I had, and she wished me a goodnight sleep because she said that tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.
I got into my sleeping gown and curled up on my bed. I hung a scarf over my lace curtain to block the constant flashing of lightning and flipped my pillow to get the cool side. The storm was slowing down, so I opened my window, and a nice cool breeze filled my room. Looking up at the ceiling, I smiled thinking about how much I loved this dingy little room up here on the third floor. I think of myself as a princess living in the tower of a castle, looking down at my kingdom. I have never had a room of my very own. I have to work very hard to have it and to keep it.
It is 1910 and I arrived here from Germany, about two years ago. My aunt and uncle, my mom's sister and brother-in-law were already living here in the United States. They found this job for me and so I traveled from Germany to the US to start my new job. It is a hard job, taking care of this large home, assisting the cook with the meals for four family members and taking care of their little one. The cook and I also prepare food for the other workers at this home, the groomsmen and the gardener. I awaken at 4 a.m. each morning and am busy all day. I finally get to head up the stairs to my room, at about 7 p.m. Depending upon the time of the year, my room is either freezing cold or smothering hot. I open up my Bible and pick up reading where I last left off. A picture of my mother, father, grandmother and grandfather serves as my bookmark. Touching each one of them, I tell them that I love them and miss them before closing my Bible until tomorrow night. I wash myself, put on my sleeping gown, hang my uniform up in front of the window to air it out and lay my head down for the night.
Thank goodness, the lady of the house is still nursing her youngest child. When the baby wakes up during the night, I hear him, but the mistress gets up to feed her son and does not require my assistance She is a good Christain woman, who loves her home and her family. Even though I work for the family and am not related, I am treated like I am a part of the family. She entrusts me with their home, assisting with the cooking and serving of their meals and very often I take care of the baby so that she can occasionally takes a much-needed nap.
I so love to curl up and take naps on my day off, which is Sunday. I fall asleep so easily and sleep so deeply knowing that I don't have anything that I have to do, or anywhere that I have to be.
On my Sunday, day off, I usually go to the earliest church service and then I have the whole day to myself. I either visit with my aunt and uncle or just walk around in the downtown retail district. I love to take my time and really look at the shoppes that display fine women's clothing or beautifully crafted household furniture. Even though I can't afford any of the clothes from a store, I notice that women's clothing always looked the same for quite some time, always practical and durable. Lately I've noticed that it seems to all be changing. Woman's fashions are now much more colorful, decorative and attractive. I stand there, picturing myself walking into one of these shoppes one day and being able to buy anything I want and walk out with lots of bags on my arms and a smart looking hat on my head.
When the weather is nice, I walk down to the Bay which is only a few minutes from this home. I enjoy watching the activities on the beach and in the water. Then, I come back to my room, clean a little, wash my uniform and listen to my cherished music box that my mom gave me when I left Germany. I take the back staircase down to the pantry to pick up some leftover food for my meals on Sunday. Sometimes, the master of the house surprises all of us with some sweet treats from the local baker.
The last time I visited with my aunt and uncle, they kindly gave me a gift of a sturdy pencil and a thick lined pad of paper. I had told them that I always had a story going on in my mind and that I wished that I could write them down so that it is not forgotten. And they remembered. They have always been good to me. I am always glad that I have some family here in the US, it makes missing my family in Germany a little less painful. I think I will divide this pad of paper into two parts, one for my stories and one to write letters to my family.
Some Sundays, at around noon, I pack a few leftovers into a sack and head for the bay shore to eat my lunch. I meet up with several of the other ladies that are housekeepers for other families in town. We chatter about our week and all of the goings on with the families that we work for, but mostly we talk about our dreams and what we hope happens in our lives. It's usually about being wealthy, finding love and having beautiful babies and a big house. I just go along with the conversation but really, I want to move out into the country, grow my own food, have animals and farm like my parents and grandparents. In the stories that are always in my mind, I have decided that I am going to have a strong loving husband, two boys and a girl. I have already picked out their names. The two boys would be born first and when their little sister would come along. They would watch over and protect her always. The two boys would be named Arnold and Gerald. My little girl would be named Marie, after my mother. We would wake up each day and get the fire going in the stove and make a big breakfast for us all to enjoy. The children would go off and do their chores and then play for the rest of the day. My husband would get up from our big breakfast, hug us all and head out to the barn and then out to the fields in the spring, summer and fall. In the winter he would still need to head out to the barn, to feed and check on our animals. I would clean up the kitchen from breakfast and take out some of the starter to make several loaves of sourdough bread. After mixing more flour into the starter, I would put it in my big bowl, cover it and set it on top of the cook stove to rise. I would separate the dough into three parts, two for loaves of bread and one to roll out and cut into noodles for chicken soup. After cutting the dough into noodles, I would let them dry and begin making the big pot of chicken soup.
Well, someday.... all of the girls were getting up and shaking the sand out of their skirts and shoes. I guess I should go also. I need to wash out my clothes for the next day and tidy up my room.
My room isn't much - but it was mine. A place I could be alone with my thoughts and dream about my future. The family I work for gave me a nice bed with adequate blankets and a pillow, a small dressing table and a set of drawers to store my clothes. I keep my special things in the travel chest that came with me from Germany. There were a few hooks on the walls where I would hang my uniform to air out and dry. I had a pitcher for water, a big wash basin and some towels to wash up at night and in the morning. There was indoor plumbing. It was on the 1st floor right off of the pantry where I and the other folks that worked for this home would use. I always tried to be quick because I always felt that another person could come in at any moment, so I would push my foot up against the door. When you were using the facilities, you could hear the voices and activities of the family members talking in nearby rooms, so, I always just wanted to get back up to my room.
During the night, I could hear the clock in the sitting room strike every hour, so I knew what time it was by the number of strikes. I would arise at 4:00 a.m., wash myself, put on my uniform, brush and tuck my hair into my net, and go down the back stairs to the pantry. Getting the coffee ready was most important because the other folks that worked at this house, who lived out in the carriage house would be up early and would want to get their day started. The cook does not live in the house, so she arrives after I make the coffee and so, she begins her day of cooking and baking. She is always grateful for the smell and taste of coffee when she walks into the door each morning - especially in the colder months. The other workers would grumble and growl if the coffee wasn't hot, strong and ready for them when they would knock at the back door. They would only come into the house to use the facilities and to pick up their meals. I would sometimes put out baked goods that the cook had made the day before and they would scoop them up and be out of the kitchen before the family arose. They were several older men who didn't really talk much, but I know that they appreciated little special things that I would do for them. Like me, they all moved here to the US leaving family behind. I am sure that they missed so many things about their country and their families. I always hoped that a smile and a sweet treat would help them and their day.
.JPG)
