He thought she was one snappy girl

Chapter 14: 1932 • Colusa, California ~ Three years into the Great Depression, when there were no jobs and little money and Herbert Hoover was unable to keep his campaign promises of prosperity, my grandmother, 59-year-old Nellie Chatfield, moved to the bustling rice town of Colusa, the county capital built on a lazy river bend in the center of the Sacramento Valley. She brought her two youngest daughters with her, Ina and Babe, the rest of her children grown and out of the nest. There she opened an eatery. It was Prohibition, and the former Golden Eagle Bar and Hotel was now called the Golden Eagle Hotel and Cafe, serving tea and milkshakes instead of beer and whiskey. They lived in three small rooms over the restaurant, and the girls helped their mother cook for the locals and the men who’d come to town to work on the big government reclamation project: the building of a weir and the new bridge. Serving breakfast, lunch and dinner, they also sold coffee, cakes and pies. Word spread through town and Nellie became known for her one-pot dishes: her beef stew, her spaghetti, tamale pie, chili, and especially her chicken soup.

Opening ads in the Colusa Sun running for the month of February 1932 read:

AMERICAN CAFE — 120 FIFTH STREET — NOW OPEN
Coffee, Pies & Cakes
24 Hour Service
Reasonable Rates

1932: Babe and her mother Nellie Chatfield, Golden Eagle Cafe, Colusa

On a crisp fall morning after Mass, while Carl and Lawrence perched on the swivel stools at the end of the counter and made small talk with Mrs. Chatfield as she fixed their usual Sunday breakfast of fried bacon and eggs, Babe walked in. Mrs. Chatfield’s sixteen-year-old daughter seldom showed up before 10:00 any morning. She liked to sleep in.

Employed by Frederickson & Watson Construction Company, traveling from job to job and rooming in boarding houses wherever their work took them, the two Clemens brothers came to Colusa in August of 1932 to work on the new weir construction. It was a 1,500-foot cement dam built to regulate the Sacramento River flow. Work was hard to come by, and the brothers went where the jobs were.

They became Sunday morning regulars and Babe always waited for the two of them to come in before making her entrance. She sat at a nearby table while her mother cooked her a rare steak. Lawrence sat at the counter eyeing her. Babe was fast-talking and quick-witted; she was also quick to flirt and quick to laugh. Snappy-eyed and snappy-mouthed, he thought she was one snappy girl.

Lawrence was the talker of the two lanky men and he and Babe bantered back and forth, laughing and telling stories. Carl said little when Babe was nearby; he may have been twenty-six and seven years older than Lawrence, but he still had the innocence of a farm boy.

The brothers missed their family and home-cooked food. They liked coming to the café and liked Mrs. Chatfield. She reminded them of their mother; she too believed in God, hard work, and common sense. They respected that in a woman. In return, Nellie Chatfield admired the men, especially Carl. He was Catholic, dependable, upright, a worker, quiet and kind, and he didn’t smoke or drink. This man was a good prospect for her daughter and he would be a decent addition to the family. Yes, Carl Clemens was a grand choice in Nellie Chatfield’s book. She wished she were younger.

To be continued…

Catherine Sevenau is a writer, humorist, and storyteller living in Sonoma, California. The stories in this series are excerpts from her book, Through Any Given Door, a Family Memoir, available as a series at Sevenau.com. A longtime Realtor and Owner/Broker at CENTURY 21 Wine Country. Csevenau@earthlink.net