TO THE MANNER NOT BORN

TO THE MANNER NOT BORN

     Martin Sorenson’s eyes traveled down the long central hall of Rowland House, one of the finest homes in Bridgeton. Not in his wildest imagination would he have thought that he would actually be living in such as place as this. It was a far cry from the modest home in upstate New York where he grew up.

     Martin was a descendant of Danish immigrants.His great-grandfather moved from Denmark to New York in the early twentieth century and began a plumbing business. His sons took over the business and then his son, Martin’s father, inherited it. It was assumed Martin would continue the tradition, but he had other ideas. While he loved and admired his father, this despite the fact that his father had a strong temper which he had a hard time controlling, Martin loved and admired his childhood doctor more. From an early age, Martin aspired to be just like his beloved doctor.  He went to college and then on to Duke Medical School in North Carolina. His focus was pediatric medicine. 

     When it came time for his residency, it was his intent to go back to New York. However, there was an opening at the children’s hospital of the medical school in Bridgeton,South Carolina. Martin was impressed by the hospital. He also fell in love with Bridgeton. While serving his residency, an older , pediatricians, Dr. Joseph Summers, took him under his wing. Dr. Summers reminded Martin very much of the pediatrician of his childhood. He was anticipating retirement and asked Martin if he might want to consider taking over his practice. Martin was flattered. 

     Dr. Summers.’ practice was just the kind he had dreamed of. In addition to his normal practice, Dr. Summers spent considerable time working with the children of the poor in the city. He told Martin how difficult it had been for him to see children so obviously malnourished and sickly when he first came to Bridgeton. Most of these children were children of the poor.

     Martin found himself assisting the older physician at various community centers in the more neglected parts of town. It was at one of these community centers that he met Linda Rowland.

     Linda Rowland was a Bridgetonian born and bred. She could trace her family line in  back five generations, a fact that didn’t qualify her for the true “inner circle” of society but  gave her a certain status nonetheless. During her growing up years, she witnessed the decline of the Rowland family. Her grandfather grew up in a mansion known as Rowland House the son of a renowned mercantile and trading giant in the city. As her grandfather’s interests were not in the family business, his brother offered him the house in exchange for allowing him complete ownership of the business. Linda’s grandfather practiced law and dabbled in real estate. He became one of the largest property owners in the city. As the money started rolling in, he cut back on his law practice in favor of spending time at the country club. He also spent much time hunting, fishing, and drinking with friends. His son, Linda’s father, also became an attorney and essentially followed in his father’s footsteps.  However, he had so much money that he really didn’t need to spend much time in his law office. He basically just had a good time watching the rent checks come in and the property foreclosure settlements pour in as well.  He also made frequent “business trips,” usually without Linda’s mother accompanying him. 

     Her younger brother grew up feeling quite entitled, secure in the belief that the Rowland fortune would someday be his. He barely gave a thought that his older sister might inherit something. In his mind, she would likely follow in the dainty footsteps of most other Bridgeton society girls and marry into another prominent family. That was the way it was.  Wealth was handed down from father to son. Linda’s brother had no interest in law. He quit college his sophomore year when he was not accepted into the fraternity of his choice.  He spent his time barhopping and bedhopping. He had his father and his mother wrapped around his little finger.

     Keenly aware of the decline in the family name, if not the family fortune, Linda resolved to make a contribution to the world. She loved children. She decided to become a social worker. Her parents both thought this would be a nice little hobby to pursue until she got married. Despite her patrician looks and genteel upbringing, Linda was as down-to-earth as the unpolished bricks used for the driveway of their home.

     She began working at several of the community centers around town. It was at one of them that she met Martin. They took to each other immediately and knew that they had a special relationship when they found that they enjoyed having lunch with the children in the center more than going out to some upscale café for an overpriced sandwich. They went to the movies and plays and took the kids to baseball games from time to time. 

Linda's father and mother soon became aware of her interest in Martin. Her father felt the he and his daughter needed to have "the talk."  He hedged, however, by extending an invitation to dinner.

“Linda?”

“Yes, father?”

“You seem to have taken an interest in someone, but your mother and I haven’t had the privilege of meeting him. Why don’t you invite him for supper some night?”

“We’ll see.”

Linda’s father was insistent. One evening, Martin came to Rowland House for dinner.  Linda’s father made sure all the stops were pulled out. The staff, which included a cook/shopper, cleaning maid, and a butler/factotum, was instructed to wear their formal servants’ attire. The dining room was set as for a state dinner. 

     When Martin arrived, he was greeted formally by the butler and ushered into a drawing room where he simply stood alone for a few minutes. This time would allow him to take in the opulence of Rowland House and perhaps have a measure of fear and awe instilled in him.  Mr. and Mrs. Rowland then came in and introduced themselves. They asked Martin if he cared for a drink. Not being a drinker (he had witnessed far too many episodes with his father), he accepted a glass of wine. The drinks were served by the butler on a silver tray.  He felt was though he had walked into an episode of “Upstairs, Downstairs.” Then, as if on cue, Linda and her brother joined the group. They already had drinks. Linda’s brother Lucas had what appeared to be a bourbon. Linda had what appeared to be a water. She was also obviously uncomfortable with all this pretense. After a few minutes of stiff attempts at conversation, the Rowlands pretending to care where Martin was from and something of his background, the butler announced that dinner was ready. 

     As Martin entered the formal dining room, his mind boggled at the array of china, silverware and glasses that covered the surface of the table. In the middle of the table was an ostentatious floral centerpiece flanked by candelabras. The silk table cloth seemed of museum quality. Martin noticed that there was no room on the table for the food. He soon realized that the maid and the butler would be serving and removing the victuals. Being only used to a simple knife, fork, and spoon arrangement, Martin took his cue from Linda as to which piece of silver to use for what. Mrs. Rowland would throw the cook a bone every once in a while with such comments as, “Louisa, please let Bertha know that we think she has simply outdone herself with the persimmon pudding (or whatever) and that we might just keep her.” Her laugh following the last comment didn’t seem totally in jest.  It was, after all, quite an honor to be in the service of the Rowlands.

     After the tasty, but awkward, dinner, Mr. Rowland suggested that Martin, Lucas and he retire to the game room for a cigar, brandy, and perhaps some billiards. The ladies would retire to another room. An image of Mrs. Rowland and Linda doing needlepoint in a sitting room passed through Martin’s head. Linda had another idea. “Why don’t we all go out on the porch and enjoy the night air. We could have coffee and desert, perhaps. What do you think, Mother?”  Linda was always trying to get her mother to assert herself. Mrs. Rowland would never fail to defer to her husband. Like the staff, she knew her place. 

     “Well. Linda,” her mother responded, “Your father might want to talk to Martin a little by himself.” 

     “Well, mother,” Linda replied, imitating exactly her mother’s tone, “I don’t think we should be shuffled off into some sitting room. Maybe we could join the boys in the game room?  How’s that sound, daddy?” Linda's tone assumed a mock petulance with that last comment.

     Linda’s father chafed at her assertiveness while inwardly admiring it. “The porch sounds good.”  Lucas, Linda’s brother, then had to make a comment. “As tempting as the invitation to sit on the porch with you all is, I’m afraid I have some appointments this evening, so I’d better get changed and head on out.”  Mr. Rowland then remarked, “Lucas, I think the beer and the girls will wait a while.” “Dad, I know you won’t believe this, but I am supposed to meet with someone about a job. We set up our meeting for this evening. I have been looking, you know.” “Sure, Lucas, sure.”  Mr. Rowland didn’t believe a word Lucas said. He’d heard that song before.

     Mr. and Mrs. Rowland, Linda, and Martin sat on the porch for a short while when Martin announced that he needed to get home. “I’ve got some early appointment tomorrow. It has been such a pleasure meeting you both and I want to thank you for your wonderful hospitality.” 

     “Judson will show you to the door, Martin,” Mr. Rowland said. “It has been our pleasure.  Please don’t be a stranger.”  He retrieved a card from a side table in the hall."Here's my card for reference."  He looked as though he expected Martin to return the gesture while knowing well Martin wasn't the "card" type. The way Mr. Rowland puffed himself up like a peacock obviously embarrassed Linda. He didn’t even offer his hand to Martin as they stood at the entrance to the front drawing room of the house. “Judson,” the butler, escorted Martin to the door.

     The next day, Linda apologized for the entire evening.  Martin seemed to take it all in stride. He had children to take care of. They were what mattered. Linda and Martin hardly felt they were dating.They just fell into a relationship that seemed so natural. After a number of months, Martin popped the question and Linda accepted. Linda wanted nothing to do with a society wedding and Martin agreed. “There is something, however, that I need to do, however,” Martin remarked.“I don’t want your father’s permission to marry you, but I would like his blessing.”

     “Ooh,” Linda replied, “I wish you luck with that!”

     Martin called Mr. Rowland to arrange a meeting. He hadn't seen Linda's father or mother since the famous dinner. “Why don’t we play some golf?” Mr. Rowland asked. He assumed that Martin had never played golf. “That sounds like fun, Mr. Rowland.”

     The two met at the Bridgeton Country Club links. It soon became clear to Mr. Rowland that Martin had, indeed, played golf.  He had, in fact, learned to play in college and continued to play while at Duke. “You’ve got a good swing, son. It’s all in the follow through, isn’t it?” This environment allowed both Mr. Rowland to Martin to relax. When they finished the ninth hole, Mr. Rowland suggested they get some lunch. While he had intended to impress Martin with lunch in the posh dining room, he opted for the grill instead. 

     While they enjoyed a burger and iced tea, Mr. Rowland commented, “You’ve been hanging around my daughter for quite some time now. Where do you see the relationship going?”

     “Well, sir, we’re actually thinking about getting married.”

     “I figured as much. You know, Martin, Linda’s a great girl. She’s always been a little too Mother Teresa for me, but that’s just her."

     “Mr. Rowland, this isn’t exactly the place I wanted to do this, but I’d really like your blessing on our marriage.” 

     John Rowland instantly got up and walked away. Martin could see he was visibly upset and just let him alone for a while before going outside where Mr. Rowland stood, looking out over the golf course.  He had obviously been crying.

     “Mr. Rowland. I hope you’re not upset about what I said back there.” 

     “Upset about that?  Hell no!” Mr. Rowland brushed his eyes.“Martin, I live in a man’s world. Linda’s my oldest child and, to be frank about it, my son Lucas doesn’t hold a candle to her. She’s very independent, something I’m sure you already know. I haven’t been the best father to either of my children.I feel I hardly deserve the honor of blessing your marriage. It’s a feeling I’m just not used to. I'd be more comfortable giving her away. I always felt I did that a long time ago.”
     
     “We can talk about this some other time, Mr. Rowland.  Let’s finish our round of golf, okay?”

     “Sure.”

     They finished the round. Normally, Mr. Rowland would have invited Martin to join him at the 19^th hole, but, as they walked back to the clubhouse, Mr. Rowland remarked to Martin. “I think I’d better go home and talk with Linda’s mother about all of this. Knowing Linda, she doesn’t want some fancy nuptials and with the engagement party and bridal showers thrown in. Frankly, I think her mother will be relieved. She’s not been too well and the task of helping Linda plan a big wedding might be too much for her at this time.”

     “You’re right sir. Linda just wants a small simple wedding. The ring I plan to give her is also quite simple.” 

     “By the way, Martin, you have my blessing, for what it’s worth.”

     “It’s worth quite a lot, sir. It means a lot to both me and Linda.”

     Mrs. Rowland did, indeed, react to the plans Martin and Linda had made with relief.  Linda also insisted that when Martin’s family came down for the wedding, the Rowlands wouldn’t put on a big show. Everything would be nice but plain. Linda also insisted that the house staff be invited to the wedding as official guests.

     Lucas Rowland, as expected, reacted quite differently to the announcement of Linda and Martin’s pending nuptials. One day, he asked to speak to his father in the game room. “Dad, I’m sure it’s pretty clear how I feel about Martin and about this marriage business.”

     “I’ve gotten the drift.”

     “I don’t think it’s a good idea. They don’t realize it now, because they’re all starry eyed and crazy.”

     “Lucas, Martin asked me to bless their marriage, and I did. I meant it. I still mean it. Not only that, I’ve made a decision about something.”

     “What might that be?”

     “Lucas, the Rowland house has been passed down from father to son for five generations.That’s just been the tradition. However, I’ve decided to break with tradition and pass the house down to Linda.” 

     Lucas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His entire life, and lifestyle, rested on the security that the house and the family wealth would be passed on to him. He took a breath and then said, “Oh, I see.  The house will go to Linda but the rest of the estate will eventually go to me. Right?”

     “Not exactly. You know Lucas, I haven’t set a very good example for you. It’s been pretty much take, take, take with me, and I can see that you’re just like me. It might not seem so to you, but most of my life, I’ve been pretty miserable. I don’t want that for you.”

     “So you think that by writing me out of your estate I’ll be happy?”

     “That’s up to you.” 

     Lucas turned redfaced. “You bastard! You know what kind of father you were to me?  Judson was more of a father to me than you. You set me up all these years to think that all this would eventually be mine, and then you pull the rug out from under me!” “

     I guess I am, son. Now let’s see if you continue to stand up or just fall down and stay down. Don’t think your mother and I haven’t been aware of your charade.“

     Lucas left the house in a huff. Mr. Rowland felt he had just done the first truly fatherly thing he had ever done for his son.

     Lucas stormed over to the community center where Linda worked. “Linda, we need to talk!”

     “Lucas, that’s fine, but I’m working with some children right now. Give me an hour.”

     “To hell with these kids. We need to talk now!”  It was obvious that Lucas was upset about something, and the smell of alcohol on his breath as noticeable to Linda and the children. 

     “I’ll meet you for coffee in an hour.That’s my best offer.” 

     Lucas stormed away.

     An hour passed and Linda went looking for Lucas. He was sitting in a park right by the community center. “Let’s go get some coffee, okay?”

     “I don’t want no damned coffee!” 

     “Don’t speak to me like that, Lucas. When you’re ready to speak to me like an adult, I’m all ears. Otherwise, there are children that need me. I don’t have time for your crap.”

     Lucas wasn’t used to being stood up to by anyone. “Okay.  I’m sorry. I’m just really upset.”

     “How could I tell?”

     Lucas related his encounter with their father to Linda. He kept his temper while letting her know how unfair everything was. Linda listened quietly.  “You know Lucas, I don’t really care about the house. I do, however, care about what it stands for, or at least what it used to stand for.”

     “So you’re okay if I get the house.”

     “No, I’m not.”

      The venom had run out of Lucas. “I’m confused.”

     “I would love for the house to be what it used to be.”

     “And what, in your mind, was that?”

     “Do you know anything about the history of Rowland House?”
    
     “It’s the family home. What else is there to know?”

     “Back in the nineteenth century, a store clerk named Patrick Rowland moved up the ladder and soon found himself the owner of one of the largest stores in Bridgeton. 
He expanded his enterprise by getting into the trading and shipping business. Right by his side all the way was his wife, Lillian. He got to the point where he could afford to build his wife the house of her dreams.The house of her dreams was a large house that was extremely child friendly. You might have noticed growing up that the rails of the staircase in our house scream to be slid down. They had children, but they also loved having tons of children in the house. They would throw parties at the drop of a hat. They offended some neighbors by having children of staff included in all the parties and by bringing in children of employees. That was the house that Patrick and Lillian Rowland built and lived in. One of their sons inherited the house and continued many of the traditions his parents had started. He also expanded the shipping business. Then, when our great-grandfather died, one of his sons who had inherited the house offered to let his younger brother have it in exchange for handing over his share of the business to him. That brother, our grandfather, didn’t like the business and really didn’t like people very much. He and our grandmother only had one child, our father.”

   

     “Does this story have a point?”

     “Yes, it does. And I’m getting to it. Rowland House was meant to be a house for children and for bringing people together. It was not meant to be some posh showplace set off from the world.”

     “And so you and your man are going to fill the house once again with children and make it was a Disneyland.”

     “If we live there, it’s not going to be the pretentious, forbidding place it has become. You do know why it’s called Rowland House, don’t you.”

     “Because it’s our family house.

     “No, it’s called that to honor Patrick and Lillian Rowland. It’s still their house and their descendants have just been the caretakers. Some have taken better care of than others.”

     “And do dear departed Patrick and Lillian pay the taxes on the place?”

     “In a way, they do. We’re still living on the dividends of their hard work.”

     “That’s so touching, Linda.  I bet you and Martin turn the place into condos and sell them, so you can finance your charity work. Oh, that’s right; dad’s leaving most of his estate to you, so you won’t need to do that.”

     “I can see you doing that.”

     “I never realized how little anyone in the family thought of me.”

     “It’s more about what you think of yourself.”

     “So, I’m supposed to pull myself by the bootstraps?”

     “That’s your call, not mine.”

     At that point, Martin dropped by and saw Linda and Lucas in the park. “Is this a private party?” Martin had no idea of the family drama that had been going on.

     “I was just leaving. I’ve got places to go and people to see,” Lucas remarked sarcastically.

     “Lucas is upset because our father is planning to write him out of the will,” Linda remarked.

     “I certainly don’t want to stand in the way of the grand revival of Rowland House!” Lucas shouted  at Linda and Martin.

     “What's going on?” Martin asked.

     “It’s all good," Lucas laughingly commented. "Times change. People change.One day you’re in and the next day you’re out.”

     “I think Lucas is having a pity party,” Linda observed.

     “The idea of that house being run by a plumber-turned-pediatrician makes me laugh. I’m sorry fella, you’ll be out of your depth,” Lucas said, with more than a bit of condescension.

     “How quickly you forget your history lesson, Lucas.  Rowland House was built by a store clerk-turned-store owner for his wife and children.”

     “You know somethin’, sistah?”  Lucas spoke loudly enough for others in the park to hear him. “You might consider changing the name of the house to Sorenson House. That has a Bridgeton ring to it, doesn’t it.”

     

     “Well, bro,” Linda followed suit with an equally emphatic response. The people in the park couldn’t refrain from laughing. “I guess I just wasted my breath giving you the history of Rowland House. Martin and I might live there, if we can afford the taxes, but we’ll never be the true owners. We’d love you to drop by sometime. You’d look great in a clown costume.  Just promise not to scare the children.”

     “Don’t hold your breath. I think I’ll just go home, move my stuff out, and get a place of my own.”

     “Don’t forget to find a job while you’re at it,” Linda cheerfully commented.

     “Maybe I can get a job as a store clerk somewhere, or better yet, as a plumber. That way, my brother-in-law can teach me the tools of the trade while I get him up to speed on the expectations of Bridgeton society.”

     “Lucas,” Martin remarked, “I don’t mean to butt in, but that might not be a bad idea.”