By Phyllis von Herrlich, Augusta, Maine

The dining room table rocked back and forth while they laughed and talked in earnest.  Sometimes they laughed so hard they couldn't catch their breath and tears rolled down their cheeks.

On a November evening in 2000, I sat in a cozy dining room in Augusta and talked with two Franco-American women about their experiences growing up in the city of their birth and of their sense of themselves as women of French Canadian descent.  There were actually four generations of Franco-American women in the room that evening.  The daughter and granddaughters of one were present and the first woman in their family line to come to Central Maine was most certainly present in the memories and heritage of her daughters, granddaughter, and great granddaughters.  Jeannette Coulombe Valliere and the story of her early life laid the foundation for Patricia Coulombe Knox's and Pauline Coulombe Dickson's stories.  Melanie Knox LaPierre (Pat's daughter), Mel�s daughter, Tiarra, and Kylee Knox, Pat's granddaughter through her son, Michael, were the others present.  Mel listened and joined the conversation asking clarifying questions, while Tiarra and Kylee moved in and out of the room.  Kylee, a lovely teen-ager with frank blue eyes and blond hair, listened attentively, but at times seemed awed by what her great aunt and grandmother were saying.  Tiara, a pretty dark-haired girl with wise hazel eyes, visited the conversation occasionally, but spent most of the time reading in the kitchen or visiting with her grandfather Earl, who kept a wide berth of the raucous conversation.  He checked in a couple of times to see if I, as the recorder of this event, was okay and to check up on Laurent Paré, a friend of Pauline�s who had come for the conversation. 

Pat and Pauline spent the evening recounting their lives in the French section of early twentieth century Augusta, the daughters of Canadian immigrants who had come to find a better life.  Sand Hill and its base area that runs along Bond Street, Mt. Vernon Avenue and adjacent streets defined the section.  Bond Brook, the namesake for one street, runs by the foot of Sand Hill and empties into the Kennebec River, the source of power for the mills that brought so many Canadians to the area.  Bond Brook has an earlier fame in Augusta history; it was the area where Dame Martha Ballard, the eighteenth midwife and diarist, lived from 1778 to 1799.(1) 

Patricia and Pauline Coulombe were born in Augusta, eleven months apart, in 1934 and 1935 respectfully.  They have been close friends for life.  They were born to Jeannette Coulombe Valliere, a widow for some three years and already the mother of five girls.  Pauline and Pat recounted their mother's story as best they knew, but said they did not know many details.  Talk of the "old life" was not common in their childhood household.  Most of their energy went for day-to-day survival.  They did know, though, that as a young girl Jeannette had come from an area they called St. Malgroire in Quebec (Canada) with her Coulombe family.  Wilhelmine and Charles Coulombe came to Central Maine seeking a better life, like so many other Canadians in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.  Some of the older Coulombe boys moved back and forth between Maine and Massachusetts to find work in the mills of Lawrence and Lowell.  Jeannette Coulombe was born in 1904, they figured, and came to the states when she was 9 or 10.  The family moved into a growing French Canadian community.  By 1908 Augusta had a Franco American Catholic population of nearly 2,500 people, about 19% of the total city population.(2)  Most had come to work in the mills, the cotton mills in particular.  Edwards Mill, located on the west bank of the Kennebec at the foot of Sand Hill, was a major employer.  On this site, the Kennebec Cotton mills, employer to earlier generations of immigrants, had once stood, and later the area became the Bates mill.  Across the river on the east side was a paper plant, where a succession of paper mills have operated.  One still does today.  The textile mill buildings burned around 1990.  Canadian immigration to the states reached, by some estimates, nearly a million people between 1840 and 1930.  Most settled in New England, and many in Maine.  Augusta, however, was not a major destination for French Canadians, its mills notwithstanding.  The group that settled here, though, did comprise a sizeable percentage of the population of the city and settled primarily on and around Sand Hill.(3) 

Pat and Pauline learned of their mother's life in passing conversation, for it was seldom spoken of directly.  They knew Jeannette went to work in the cotton mill when she was about thirteen and married before she was eighteen.  Jeannette's mother died when Jeannette was eighteen, but by then she had already married and had a child.  Jeannette's father worked in the woods, which meant he was gone for extended periods.  Jeannette went to work in the mill early in life, a circumstance not uncommon for young Franco-American women at the time.  Pat and Pauline recalled some details of Jeannette�s early life that they had gleaned from conversations.  Jeannette�s mother, Wilhelmine, was a restless person, they said, and often went off to Massachusetts to visit her family there, leaving her children to fend for themselves.  There were 11 children, they recalled, but they were not always together, in part because of the age span and in part because of work opportunities.  Some of the older boys worked at times in the mills in Lawrence, likely making connections to the family in that area.  Pat and Pauline named their mother�s siblings as Edmond, Leo, John, Armand, Theodore (called Blackie), Henry, Eugene, Josephine, Maria, Jeannette (their mother), and Concorde.  Details of Jeannette�s young married life are sketchy, but her daughters recall that her husband, August Valliere, was quite a bit older than she.  They lived on a farm out on Churchill Road, but August worked, at least at times, in the paper mill.  Jeannette had a succession of seven children by 1930, five of whom survived and formed the family Pat and Pauline would be born into.  In 1931, just as the Depression was beginning and shortly after the birth of her seventh daughter, Irene, Jeannette's husband drowned in a river accident.  August Valliere and two companions were crossing the Kennebec on the ice in early spring -- heading home from a shift at the paper mill -- when they broke through.  All three drowned.  Jeannette was 27 years old. 

Pat�s and Pauline�s earliest memories are of their mother back working in the cotton mill while an older sister cared for them.  They explained Jeannette�s exit from the farm after her husband�s death as a complex drama with few agreeable choices.  For some reason, August�s younger brother held control of the farm.  He offered marriage to Jeannette as the one way for her to remain on the land.  Jeannette did not want to marry her brother-in-law, so she moved her family back to the Franco area of Augusta and sought work in the mill.  In addition to work in the mill, they recalled their mother did laundry for the nuns to earn extra money.  From their grammar school classroom, Pauline said, they could see the clothes lines between the buildings where their mother hug the laundry to dry.  In the winter, frozen black habits hug on clothes lines like cardboard cutouts, waiting to be pulled in to damp-dry indoors, then ironed before going back to the nuns.  Pauline recalled Jeannette earned about a dollar fifty ($1.50) a day for doing the nuns� laundry.  At the mill, Jeannette likely earned a little more.  At the turn of the century, mill pay was about $2.00 per day for a 12-hour shift.(4)  By the 1930�s, according to Pauline�s companion Laurent, mill and shop workers in Augusta were making somewhere around $.45 to $.50 per hour. When Jeannette worked in the mill, one of the older girls would stay home to care for Pat, Pauline, and the other young siblings.  This was true when they were in grade school, also.  They have memories of one sister or another preparing their lunch when they came home at mid-day.

Pat and Pauline noted frankly that they were the children from a relationship their widowed mother had with a man she never married.  They recalled, though, that their father was part of their lives, showing up four or five times a year with gifts if he could afford them and kind treatment for his daughters.  They said he was French Canadian, also, and from New Hampshire where they said he worked as a shoe cutter for Thom McCann.  During the Depression their father, Charles, was at Togus Veteran�s Hospital.  He had served in World War I.  Pat and Pauline recalled the tale of how their parents met.  On weekends the men got leave from the hospital and naturally ventured to the nearest city.  It was the Depression and prohibition was in full force in Maine.  Jeannette, needing to be resourceful to provide for her large family, had taken to making homebrew.  Pauline recalls as a young girl applying caps to the bottles ? of course not knowing the legal issues and just participating in the family enterprise.  Pauline said it was known in some circles that their house was a place to get a bottle and this was how her parents met ? her father came to buy a bottle of homemade brew from her mom.  They speculated that the authorities knew about Jeannette�s activities, but looked aside.  Her responsibility for her own family kept them from being the responsibility of the larger community.  The specific reasons for Jeannette's choices in life are not clear and can only be speculated, but that her life was difficult and challenging is without question.  In 1931 when her husband died, there was no welfare system as we know it today and Social Security had not even been thought of.  Any assistance Jeannette might have received would have come from her own family, the church, or the city.  But, as historians have pointed out, economic conditions in Augusta during the Depression were not good: "The state's mill towns were hardest hit. . . .by 1933 about 20 percent of Maine's manufacturing workers were on the streets."(5)  It is unlikely the town coffers were full enough to be generous.  At the state level, Maine was controlled by staunch, never-ask-for-help Yankees, who refused to ask for federal assistance, even though it was available.(6)  One can only imagine what choices Jeannette had to make to keep her family housed and fed -- and to find some meaning or joy in her young life.  The judgement of the strict Catholic community around must have been difficult to bear.  Pauline said as a child she always felt like an outsider because of the situation at home.

Although Pat's and Pauline's family was exceedingly poor by any measure, they said they did not feel particularly different financially from others in their neighborhood, although there was always the element of living without a father.  It was their induction into parochial school -- St. Augustine's -- that constructed their early concept of their status in the world.  Baptism was required for children to enter parochial school, and the first term they attended the nuns announced to their classmates that this was a recent rite for them.  Pauline recalls this as confusing and embarrassing because other students whispered about them.  Pauline entered as a second grader, having gone to public school for the first grade, and Pat as a first grader.  Their mother wanted them to attend the school together, possibly anticipating they would need each other for support and comfort as they entered this strict environment.  Up until their baptism, Pat and Pauline had been known as Vallieres, using the same name as their older sisters, but at baptism the priest insisted the girls take their mother's maiden name because of the circumstance of their birth.  Pat had a further shake-up to her identity when she went to school.  At home she was called "Shirley," a nickname given because of her likeness to Shirley Temple, a child star of the time.  The nuns refused to use the name saying it was not a proper Catholic name, but rather the name of a town somewhere in Massachusetts, and insisted on "Patricia." 

Parochial school was emotionally traumatic, but academically rich for the girls.  French was their language at home and they did not learn English until going to school.  St. Augustine�s school emphasized both French and English.  Classes from 8 to 11:30 a.m. were in French and from 1 to 3 p.m. were in English.  Pat noted they spoke mostly French, even in the afternoon, but English is a language they both mastered.  All the girls helped their mother learn to read and write in English and the older girls helped the younger ones learn the language.  Parochial school was an expensive undertaking for a family in the 1940�s; it cost $.50 per month per child.  Laurent explained that the parish supported both the church and the school by pledging so much money for each, but parents were expected to contribute a monthly fee for each child.  "Some parents would put a dime away each week, then at the end of the month you just had to come up with one more dime and you'd have it," Laurant explained.  Of course, this had to be done for each child in school.  The nuns would collect the money during class time, calling out each name.  Pauline and Pat noted you were humiliated if you did not have your money, and everybody in the class would know.  The St. Augustine�s School nuns were from the Sisters of the Presentation of Mary,(7) an order dedicated to teaching and working with the poor.  Their convent on Sand Hill was connected to St. Augustine�s church.  A second large, Catholic community in Augusta, St. Mary�s, also had a convent with teaching nuns.  Pat and Pauline said the difference between the two churches was cultural -- if you were French Canadian you went to St. Augustine�s; if you were non-French, you went to St. Mary�s.  The two groups did not mix.  Pat confessed as a child she wanted to be a nun, but the calling was not strong.  The nuns were thought to play favorites, making Pauline take care of Patricia, but neither was on the teacher�s pet list.  "They didn�t want you to have any self-esteem," Pauline commented.  "They told you if you let a boy touch your breast, you�d get pregnant."  "If you were having your period, you couldn�t touch the plants because you were going to kill them."  "We feared God."  "You had to confess every wrong thing," and lacking a wrong thing, they�d make something up.  The sisters ruled by tyranny and guilt.  The month of May was particularly sacred in their parish; it was the month of Mary and particularly important to the Sisters of the Presentation of Mary order.  Going to church every night was required.  Pat recalls their mother attended mass with them.  Sunday vespers for children were expected throughout the year.  The nuns took attendance, and if you were not there they would find a way to punish during the week.  Pat�s notions about vespers was one Pauline said she had never heard of, kidding her sister that she had made it up.  Pat said at one point in life she heard vespers were compulsory for children so parents could have private time on Sunday afternoons -- time to work on keeping the parish schools filled with devote little Catholics: parents and priest in conspiracy against the children, exercising their compounded control to the benefit of each.  Pauline doubted Pat�s explanation of the reason for vespers, but both found the notion amusing.

At one point in their young lives, their financial circumstances changed, at least somewhat.  They did not know how this came about, but somehow Jeannette learned she was entitled to a widow's pension because her husband had served in World War I.  Pauline and Pat were around nine or ten, and they recall a generous Christmas that year.  Their lives did not change radically though, for even with this extra money they stayed in the same neighborhood and the girls were expected to go to work right after eighth grade.  Their childhood memories were shaped by poverty and the time period.  The family lived in a tenement building on Mt. Vernon Avenue.  At one point, the cotton mill owners owned buildings all over Augusta, but particularly on Sand Hill and the area at its base.  The mill owners rented apartments or rooms to the mill workers.  Pat and Pauline lived on the banks of Bond Brook, where a small park is located today.  The apartment where the Valliere/Coulombe family lived was a crowded three bedroom.  In the 1940�s Pat and Pauline recalled everyone shared a room, and sometimes a bed.  The two of them shared a room with an older sister.  They said their mother was very strict and did not even allow the girls to undress in front of each other, so they had to take turns getting ready for bed. 

They spoke of air raid drills during World War II.  On air raid nights, lights were out in the city at six and curtains were drawn tight so no ray of light could sneak through.  "The wardens came around to check" -- to see if anyone might be putting the city in danger of being spotted by the enemy.  The oldest sister lived upstairs with her mother-in-law.  Pauline said on air raid nights she would make pop corn and invite everybody upstairs to eat it in the dark, making a party out of this war time safety exercise. 

Even though their father did not stay in the area, he did stay in touch.  On one particular visit to Augusta, he bought a gift -- a bicycle, which got designated for Pat alone.  The fear was that Pauline was too big to ride it and might flatten the tires!  Pauline and Pat laughed about this memory and kidded each other back and forth about the facts of the story.  Whatever the reason, Pauline maintained there was only enough money for one bike, which she was not allowed to ride.  She recalled always being the one "to take care" of things, even the nuns insisted she look out for her little sister.  If Pat got sick on the playground, Pauline had to clean up.  Pauline felt it was because she was always big for age, taller and heavier than others, while Pat was this "tiny little thing."  This enforced hierarchy did not embitter the sisters.  They were very close.  Ways they do not recall likely balanced the relationship in some fashion.  One particular memory sent them into peals of laughter:  Pauline was skating on Bond Brook one winter day, when she fell through the ice.  Public sanitation in the 1940�s was not what it is today, and Bond Brook was essentially a brown-water stream.  Pauline laughed that her wool felt snowsuit had to be thrown away; even after weeks of hanging it on the line to air out ? it smelled really bad! 

We talked of dress, of fashion, and of holidays.  They always had to change out of their school clothes when they came home in the afternoon, to save them from wear and tear.  Pauline does not recall uniforms for school, but Pat does.  They both thought this might have been for Pat�s last year, since she graduated after Pauline. They said they might have had five or six cotton dresses in their closets.  Pauline told a funny story of their early wardrobes:  their mother Jeannette used to make their under garments and the "harnesses" to hold up their thick cotton stockings.  Little girls never wore pants in those days.  "There was a feed bag store --Mumma would buy the empty bags, rip them apart, wash them and bleach them and make our undergarments -- our bloomers.  They�d have this big elastic waist.  Mumma would make garters out of feed bags to hold up the brown stockings -- they were sort of like undershirts with strips hanging off to hold up the stockings," Pauline explained.  "We looked like we came from a refugee camp in Bosnia," she quipped.  When older, they shopped at stores on Water Street where their mother had accounts ? places like the Bell Shop, Sister�s and Chernowsky�s  "You�d buy a coat and pay it off on time.  By the time you got it paid off, it would be thread bare!" one noted.  A special memory of clothing had to do with the holy celebrations of Easter and First Communion.  They always had special dress clothing, including new shoes, for Easter and a group photograph would be taken with the girls standing on the bridge over Bond Brook.  First Communion meant a special white dress with a veil.  Everyone had their own special outfit for this rite of passage. 

As soon as they were old enough, Pat and Pauline were expected to go to work to take care of themselves.  Pauline explained:  "When we graduated from the eighth grade, she expected you to go to work and earn your own living.  We wanted to go to high school, but no way!  She'd say, '. . . if you are going to high school you are going to buy your own clothes . . . .' "  But, to get money for clothes, school or otherwise, you had to work.  The same demand was made of the older sisters ? work to support yourself and contribute to the household.  Both Pat and Pauline found jobs in Augusta General, the local hospital, immediately after graduating eighth grade.   They both would have preferred to go to high school, but that was not a sanctioned choice.  Older sisters went to work before finishing school.  The expectation for young girls at the time, they noted, was to grow up and get married.  Also, the support to Jeannette's household was needed as the family changed size and character and the older girls married and moved away.  Pauline said she made $15 a week at the hospital.  Pat noted she made $18.  Both gave their mother $10, then the rest was for other necessities and fun.  "If you had a dollar left over, that was a lot of money," Pauline noted.  Movies were $.35 and bus fares a dime.  When they were very young, they recalled that movies at the Colonial Theatre on Water Street were only a dime, and you could sit though all three showings (the same film), be entertained by the piano player, and maybe win one of the prizes they gave away.

As teen-agers, Pat and Pauline engaged in the same activities as other teens:  bowling, roller skating, dancing.  Island Park in Winthrop was a popular spot for dancing, as was Chez Paris in Waterville.  The bus took them to Waterville, and buses ran every half-hour to Hallowell and Gardiner where bowling lanes and roller rinks awaited.  Laurent noted a dime would take you to Hallowell, then a nickel more would take you to Gardiner.  To get to Island Park in Winthrop, you had to have a ride, but otherwise getting around was pretty easy.  They socialized pretty much with their own kind, but Pat and Pauline both married outside their Franco American group.

They were able to laugh at themselves and about the struggle of their early lives; to see humor in life, when to do otherwise might have been unbearable.  I never ceased to be amazed at the power of forgiveness, the strength of love, and the bonds of blood kin.  Pat and Pauline knew their father as someone who "came to visit" when they were growing up.  He was not part of their daily lives, yet when he was an old man and sick Pauline took him in and cared for him as the father she felt him to be.  He lived with Pauline�s family for the last five years of his life, after major surgery on his hip.  "One day," she said, "the VA called and said he had no place to live. What could you do?  He was an old man and he needed a place to live.  He never drank in the house, but when got his check, he�d go out and on benders."  This phase of their father�s life shed light on his life-long struggle with alcohol.  Pauline said her own son was very fond of Pepere.  When their dad died, he ended up being buried in a grave with his son-in-law, Pauline�s former husband.  Pauline noted that when she was taking care of her father�s affairs, a woman in the Social Security office told her she was "illegitimate"  as though a name on a birth or baptismal record bestows the status of "legitimacy."  Pauline was offended by this and commented, "No one should be treated this way."  In seeking out information about her father�s family, after she married and moved to Massachusetts, she looked up her father�s family in Nashua, New Hampshire, and went to meet his sisters.  "They were all Pauline�s and Patricia�s," she noted, seeing the connection between her and her sister�s names and her father�s family.  This spoke of family connectedness, but also of their importance to their father and his participation in their lives. 

By 1952 Pauline had married and moved to the Allston/Brighton area of Massachusetts.  She came back to Maine in 1987 with the youngest of her four children.  Pat moved to Lawrence with her mother in 1953, then married in 1956.  As a young teen-ager she met her husband Earl roller-skating in Gardiner.  After Pat had moved to Massachusetts, she and Earl corresponded then married.  They had known each other a long time; Pat quipped, "Earl and I came out of the nursery together."  Earl was a career military man and they spent nearly twenty years living "all over the place."  Her daughter Mel has fond memories of Hawaii.  Earl Knox served in Vietnam, and Pat was a military mom left to handle the household and raise their three children on her own.  In 1973 they moved back to Maine permanently. 

I asked them what they thought of Augusta today as compared to when they grew up.  "Oh, I liked the old Augusta," they say almost in unison, noting it was a much more vibrant community back then.  "Everybody went downtown on Saturday afternoon.  You�d see everybody -- they�d all be shopping. You dressed up just to go to Water Street."  Shops like Chernowsky�s, D. W. Adams, and Sister�s provided opportunities to shop for women and children.  Thom McCann and Lamey-Wellehan (still in operation) were shoe stores.  Woolworth�s was a local dimestore and Marks & Brothers offered another shopping option.  Nicholson and Ryan, jewelers on Water Street, were also available, as they are today.  Shopping for food was different from today, they noted.  There were no real supermarkets, except for a First National on State Street.  Most food shopping was at neighborhood stores, and you did everything by walking.  The lower end of Water Street, Pauline noted, was all bars.  This was the area that stood between the Franco community on Sand Hill and its base and the downtown shopping area.  Going to the bars on Friday and Saturday nights was a big thing.  People would drink on Friday and Saturday, go to mass on Sunday, then back to the mills on Monday.  Life was in many ways, pretty rough.  Pat noted there were lots of young women who had children that their own parents would then raise.  "It was never talked about," she noted, "but all of a sudden the older parents would have a new baby."  "Hardly anybody had cars.  Bond Street was beautiful.  "We took pride . . . we�d sweep the sidewalks -- even if you didn�t own it, you took pride."  "You could walk everywhere.  You could walk to the Colonial Theatre, to the Capitol Theatre."

I asked them their feelings about themselves as Franco-American women -- whether they had had women they idolized when they were young, or if there were women they looked up to and wanted to emulate.  Pat�s immediate response was that she felt the French culture was the "best" for women -- that to be a woman and to be French was the ideal.  She could not speak for men.  "We are survivors.  We had to be in those days."  When pressed for why she felt this way, she turned to images that French stereotypes do not generally convey.  She said it was because French women -- Franco American women specifically -- were "strong and resilient," that "they could do anything."  Pauline added that commitment as a personal value, not a dictate from the church, is the first thing that comes to her mind when she thinks of Franco-American women.  Pauline commented that she and her sister were from a different generation, and she did not think the same values ? and certainly not the same circumstances - necessarily governed Franco women�s lives today.  Mel added that she saw this guiding principle in life as integrity, but noted that having personal integrity -- that being true to your beliefs and values  -- is not always easy today.  The strength they were speaking of, they said, was the strength they saw in the women around them in their formative years -- the strength of their mother, Jeannette, in particular. 

Concerning themselves as Catholics at this point, both said they still consider themselves Catholic, but neither "practices" anymore.  Today they experience their faith as strong, personal belief systems founded on the good they gleaned from their religious teachings.  The hypocrisy of the church, their memories of their early association with the church  -  of being "just acceptable," but reminded daily by the nuns and the dictates of the church that they were flawed individuals and would forever seek absolution -- did not leave the church in good standing in their minds.  "There were some good nuns," they commented, but it is obvious the sum of their experiences has made them look at the church with jaundiced eyes. 

I asked them if they had any wisdom for life they wanted to pass on to the next generation -- to their own children and grandchildren or other people in general.  Pauline�s advice was "to follow your heart don�t quit at the first sign of a problem -- to work through your problems.  If you make a commitment to do something, you follow it."  Reflections of this advice she saw in her own life in sticking through a thirty-year marriage and caring for her ailing father.  Commitment to others and honoring yourself, though, are sometimes in conflict.  Pauline faced this when she divorced her husband after thirty years of marriage and moved back to Maine in 1987.  Four of her five children were grown and married, but her youngest child was still in junior high.  "It was hard," she said, "but there are sometimes things you have to do to be true to yourself."  Testament to that came through a telephone call from her son when he was in the service.  "One day," she said, "he called just to say, �Thank you mom for all you have done for me.�"  At first she said she wondered what was going on, but after understanding his sincerity felt "that was the best to hear!"  Pauline�s children, in order of birth, are Valerie (born in 1954), Donna (1956), David (1958), Michelle (1961), and Jason (1973). 

Pat wanted to advise people to get their education.  "Go to school and stay in school!" she emphasized.  She noted she regretted this in her own life because she always wanted to be a singer -- even as a young child -- but she was unable to follow this dream.  This she felt to be a major disappointment in her life, although she said she has had an interesting and good life.  She has traveled extensively and lived in many parts of the world.  Pauline chimed in jokingly that her major disappointment in life never being skinny -- "only just to be skinny" was her life-long dream she said half kidding.  Pat�s children are Melissa (born in 1959), Melanie (1960), and Michael (1964).  Pauline has eight grandchildren, and Pat has nine. 

The conversation that evening rambled all over the place, jumping from topic to topic and from the past to the present.  It was clear, though, that Pat and Pauline are very interested in their Franco-American heritage and very proud of strength and resilience they saw in the women in their past, and of that which they sense in themselves.  "The French who came from Canada were grateful to have the jobs because they had nothing," Pauline noted.  She said she is not resentful of her life, "I don�t feel like I have been denied anything -- I had a good marriage for the first thirty years."  Pat said, "I don�t blame others for our being poor or for not being able to go back to school."  Since living back in Maine, and particularly now that they have retired and have time to spend together, both say they speak French more now than for a long time.  Pauline and Pat converse in French frequently.  Pat says her husband does not speak French, but she has Pauline, and both have networks of friends who speak in their first-learned tongue. 

Pat and Pauline have come a long way since they first lived in Augusta in the three-bedroom tenement on Mt. Vernon with their mother and five sisters.  Pat traveled around the world, Pauline lived "away" for over thirty years.  Their lives in Augusta now focus primarily on family.  Pat travels with her husband and Pauline gets around New England to visit her children, grandchildren, and nieces and nephews.  In talking with them, I get a sense of great pride in their heritage, with strength and commitment being attributes they particularly admire in themselves and others.  Resilience is the theme that runs through their story and shapes their lives.  In a conversation with Mel, Pat�s daughter and Jeannette�s granddaughter, a couple of weeks after this lively evening, she told me she never really understood before, but now sees her grandmother in a different light.  Jeannette moved back to Augusta and lived out her final years here, first in an apartment then in a nursing home.  "I used to visit her in the nursing home, and thought she was a pretty angry old woman," Mel said.  "But now I see that differently.  She was incredibly strong to live through all that -- they all were strong.  I knew my mother got it from somewhere!" she added.  Mel said never letting anything get her down is part of her approach to life -- part of her sense of herself.  She said she understood where this came from better now: a gift from Jeannette, passed on to Pauline and Pat, and one she will pass on to the next generation of Franco-American women in her family.  The fourth generation in the room that evening found the conversation somewhat overwhelming and possibly not relevant to their lives right now, other than the apparent energy and animation of their grandmother and great aunt.  The story, though, is a gift for them; it is information and insight into the history of the women in their family that they will understand later on.  The gift, itself, is knowing you can do anything -- no matter how hard -- and that you are, as Pat said (and Jeannette proved) "strong and resilient."

ENDNOTES
1.  Ulrich, Laurel Thatcher, A Midwife's Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary, 1785 - 1812. (New York: First Vintage Books, 1991), 16, 227.  (Originally published in hardcover by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., New York, in 1990.)

2.  Allen, James P.  "Franco-Americans in Maine: A Geographical Perspective." In Acadiensis, vol. iv, no. 1 (Autumn 1974), 47.  Department f History, U`niversity of New Brunswick (reprint).

3.  Chartier, Armand. The Franco-Americans of New England  A History. Translated by Robert J. Lemieux and Claire Quintal.  Revised and Edited by Claire Quintal (Manchester, NH, and Worcester, MA: ACA Assurance and Institut Francais of Assumption College, 1999).     [Mr. Chartier gives the following population estimates for 1900 based on a table from Ralph D. Vicero in "Immigration of French Canadians to New England 1840-1900: A Geographical Analysis": Biddeford/Saco  16,500; Lewiston/Auburn  13,300; Waterville  4,300; Aroostook County  20,000.]

4.  Brault, Gerard J.  "The Franco-Americans of Maine" in Maine, A History Through Selected Readings, eds. Edward O. Schriver and David C. Smith (Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt Publishing Company, 1985), 249.

5.  Condon, Richard H., Joel W. Eastman, and Lawrence C. Allin, "Maine in Depression & War, 1929-1945" in Maine the Pine Tree State from Prehistory to the Present, eds. R. W. Judd, E.A. Churchill, J. W. Eastman (Orono, ME:  University of Maine Press, 1995), 514.

6.  Ibid, 315.

7.  "Sisters of the Presentation of Mary" on line resource available at <http://www.presmarymethuen.org/mission.htm> (16 December 2000).

Phyllis has sadly passed away. Her Augusta Women's History Trail is an enormous contribution to the city. Read her obituary here

Carol Toner, retired
Coordinator, Maine Studies
Research Associate, History
University of Maine