Scence 27, Sylvia "Pshchology is a form of witchcraft!"

As for Sylvia, you could always find her in the kitchen. She was the most calm when her hands were busy. She especially liked making bread. It was one of the few things that she both enjoyed and felt was worthy of her attention. She liked watching the dough take form. In the early mixing stages it was a gooey mess that frustrated her, but under her consistent rolling and turning, became a tidy, obedient mass.
“If only life were so simple”
Musing to herself, smiling and remembering that life was that simple.

Those who knew her would come into her kitchen and sit by her hearth as she worked. Often heavy hearted they would come into her presence seeking refuge or enlightenment from lifes confusions.
Sylvia had the capability of delivering both a rebuke and a blessing in the same stroke. A warm listener, she welcomes the confessions of the despondent and could conjure metanoia. Her ease often made a confessor feel that Sylvia was something of an objective haven for their woes but on the contrary, she dared to challenge an attitude of indifference, guiding it towards conviction and decency.
Sylvia was keen on reminding a person that just because they happen to have a dispassion for morality, did not make them exempt from their responsibility to do what was good and right in this world on behalf of those whom they share it with.
She says what she means to, tailoring it for no one. She views the reproach she offers as a service or responsibility. Convinced that what she sees is truth, she is bound by God and heaven to bring it into light.

Things simply must be said, and they must be said simply.

She hated all of the “feeling” nonsense that was suddenly in fashion. It seemed the style for people to talk about their secret desires revealed in their dreams and the like. She believed Psychology was a form of witchcraft at its worst and a useless waste of time at its best.

“Psychologists…pft…”
She was heard muttering under her breath one evening as the eldest three gave audience to her speech.

“They’re not Scientists! They are Artists, Actors and Bohemians! All of this nonsense with the subconscious. I’ll tell you what! That Freud must be UNCONSIOUS if he thought we Breslyns were going to buy that steaming, stench heap! My God in heaven! Making up words like Ego this and Super Ego that…he sure had some Ego assuming everyone thinks the same sick way he does. Crazy do nothing man! He ought to be ashamed of himself…leading astray an entire generation of young people! Encouraging them to think all day on nothing but fornication!”

At which point Thomas let out a chuckle at his mother’s passionate rant.

“You wipe that smile off your face young man. I’ll not have any of mine indulging in any immoral extracurriculars!”
Now looking into Thomas’s eyes deeply.

“You know just what I’m referring to young man…"
Turning to the rest of her children.
"That goes for the lot of you heathen’s, don’t you think for one second that just because your father isn’t here you’ll be getting away with any indecency under this roof. No sir, Old Sylvia’s wise eh? Yes sir Sylvia is wise. To. That!”

Scene 26, Lilies...Anne and the children.

Anne ignored the stomach pains that reminded her it was well past lunchtime. She had forgotten to eat breakfast. What hurt could be done in missing lunch as well? After all, how much nourishment could half stale bread and milk actually provide her with?
As she rhythmically plunged her spade into the earth, she could practically hear her hands screaming at her to stop.
Around her, in the yard, are all the Breslyn children who, since having moved in with Anne, have adopted chores of their own and taken to running her home quite industriously. So industriously, in fact that couldn’t help but quietly smile to herself, as she understood the benefits of a large family.

Tom, Sylvia’s eldest, is chopping wood on the side yard of the house. He wears a cap and has his suspenders up over his white tee shirt. Sixteen now, he has become quite intrigued with himself. A few years back, he used to hate it when his mother prompted him to chop wood. But now he seemed eager to do it. He set up the chopping block further off from the house and closer to the road. He liked to watch the street as he worked. Especially when school got out down the way. He always made sure he was out, working in the yard when the girls walked by on their way home from school. He would of course pretend not to notice then at all save for a casual glance up, in between logs. He would stop chopping and begin stacking, when he saw an especially pretty one. He would fill his arms with weight enough to make his arms to flex, causing his still blossoming arm muscles bulge under the weight of the wood he carried. Locking gazes with the girl for just a moment he would carry the wood to the pile and unload it. Before he went back to chopping, he would glance back at the girl to see her, hopefully still looking at him. He liked this form of unspoken affirmation. He enjoyed feeling able and strong. His body had changed from what it was. Girls were starting to notice him when he walked down the street. He was already eager to find conquests, and establish his own territory.


Mary and Margaret (Called Maggie) were always together. They were presently hanging the wash on the line to dry. They gossiped and teased one another back and forth. They bickered like old ladies and laughed like little girls.
Maggie was the fiery of the two. She had orange red hair and light green eyes that switched and flashed and never missed a thing. She was currently interested in nothing more than the opposite sex and weather or not they noticed her. She had a slender waist and a still developing full bosoms. Her cheeks were round and she seemed to be ever smiling.
Mary was graceful and had the beauty of a little mother. Her face was angular with high cheekbones. Her mouth was small and modest with a slight upward curl on either side that made her look both regal and contented. Her long straight hair was chestnut brown.
By nature she was quiet, but Maggie brought out her Mick. They would banter back and forth until blushing, red cheeked and hot Mary would smile and laugh, frustrated and delighted at having lost her composure.

Windy was a grand matter. Nine years of age, average height and very wiry he has the light blue eyes of his mother. He is uncommonly kind and thoughtful for a boy his age. Windy is not his birth name. His real name is Andrew. His family calls him Windy affectionately because he is an unusually energetic boy. He runs through the house with such haste that he truly blows by those he passes and runs outdoors closing the door with a great SLAM!
“Who was that?” Sylvia would yell from the kitchen. Having already leapt off the porch and half way down the walk, far out of earshot, Sylvia resigned herself to the idea that it had been the wind. Once she learned whom it had been all along, she had believed it had been the wind with such conviction that she was surprised to find that it had been Andrew all along. So she began to call him Windy.
Windy suffers from an unnamed illness. First comes the exhaustion, loosing his breath easily and simple things become harder than they usually are. Next comes the coughing and wheezing when he breathes. He looses color in his face and seems almost gray. . Some days he suffers from exhaustion so great that he is unable to get out of bed. His skin becomes pale and cool to the touch. His breath becomes shallow and he is listless. During times like these he seems frustrated that his body can’t keep up with his spirit.

Of course then, down the line were the young ones, Michael, Gabriel, Sara, and little Molly who was not yet two. The young ones provided the joy in the eclectic mass of things at Anne’s house. Having been from a family with only one other sibling, she delighted in the goings on of a large clan, and marveled at what a tight ship Sylvia ran, in spite of the chaos.
Seeing Molly toddle around grabbing and naming things for the first time, she was grateful and felt the honor of be a guardian to her in her most impressionable days.
Michael and Gabriel, being twins and four, were always together and seemed to be not quite like-minded but complimentary to one another. In mornings when they thought they were alone, they would dare one another to urinate out of doors and compare whose steaming stream could reach the furthest.
Looking on from the kitchen, Anne only laughed, shook her head and took note at how early such nonsense began for young boys.
As for Sara who was just seven now, Anne took to her like a young sister, and in return Sara took to her in the same regard.
Sara had a love for the outdoors and seemed to understand the rhythm of the seasons as they pertained to growing things. There was a great peaceful stillness about her, though she was not lacking in the curiosity of youth.

Having the Breslyn clan was no burden to Anne. On the contrary, she was enriched by their presence in her life, especially during such dark days. Each attended to his own task, and took ownership of Anne’s home, making it run far more smoothly than it had before their presence there. She marveled at their harmony, learned their songs, how to fight according to their rules, and slowly became one of them, in her own right.
Weather she was a younger mother or an older sister, she knew not, but their presence became essential to her, and hers to them.

Scene 25, Anne's garden early summer 1930

Either the soil was bad, or gardening was a far more complex task than Anne had previously thought. And because she knew that the soil was fertile and well drained there was only one explanation for the lack of fruit that her efforts bore.

Surveying her yard in the sweltering heat of an uncommonly warm early June, her mind raced as she critiqued the work she had done earlier that spring. Jotting down in her notebook she was ever the diligent, lest she make the same mistakes twice.

Anne: (quietly, to herself)

Peas planted to late and over watered late in the season. Tomatoes planted too close together, remember to treat with calcium to prevent soft fruit. Pole beans more space efficant to bush variety. Stagger root vegetables in closer intervals for constant supply.

Sylvia: (Bringing her a glass of tea)

Don’t know much about this whole operation Anne but it seems to me we’ve a bit of bad earth Miss!

Anne: (Humbly) Oh Sylv. You are kind…no, it’s not the earth I’m afraid. It’s the gardener who tends the earth.

Sylvia: Well that just can’t be. What did you go to school for all those years? Why growing things…

Anne: I’m sorry to say that what I went to school for all those years was for what you would refer to as vanity Sylv. I spent the better part of my time learning how to prounounce names of unusual plants in latin, cross pollinate, graft trees and vines but for all the time I have spent on my education I can’t seem to grow a simple tomato.

Sylvia: I was going to say don’t be so hard on yourself but you and I ought to be ashamed of ourselves really!
(Anne looks at her, smiling greatfulyl that Sylvia has included herself as being responsible with her)

Anne: You’re a good friend Sylv.

Sylvia: I am not! I’m a lazy roust about who’s riding on the good graces of a hardworking young one whose hit hard times and has been good enough to take in a family who’s no relation to her own.
(Beat)
I’m greatful to ya Miss Hibbert. (pause. Sylvia is sincere) I don’t know what we would have done with out your kindness these last months.
I’ll not say an ill word against your efforts seeing as they have been in honor of my young ones as well as yourself.

Anne: I wish I knew how to yield more fruit.

Sylvia: (Still with a sincere look on her face she muses as she surveys the garden with Anne.)
It is a shitter, isn’t it?
(beat)
Still, I have some news…Morenos Butcher shop just down the way wants to hire on Tom to do some work for them, regularly. They say they can’t afford to pay him much but told me that in place of cash they could offer meat.

Anne: (mulling this over) Meat huh?

Sylvia: Yes, you remember what that tastes like?

Anne: I think so. (Smiling) Tom would be willing to do that?

Sylvia: It’s his place among us. He is my eldest son, Anne. It’s good and right. I’d not deny him that honor.

Scene 24, Spring 1930 Hist overview

Reading the paper made it seem like a different time and place than it really was. Phrases like ‘Business Depression light’ and the ever popular ‘The darkest hour is just before dawn’ were thrown around by columnists and said, economists alike who seemed to have a very confidant outlook on an economy that seemed to be growing worse and worse by the hour.
Even Henry Ford himself who had prudently closed down a good share of auto factories and laid off thousands of employees insisted that business was on an up trend by the summer of 1930.
Years later, historians would argue that such comments and predictions were made to combat the prevalent attitude of pessimism that some believed was to blame for the continuing downward spiral at the time.
Comparisons were made between the recession of 1920-1921 and the crash of 1929.

There is a reassurance that we seem to gain by reminding ourselves of past struggles during our darkest hours. We suddenly recall the past as though using it as a marker to remind ourselves of what we are capable of enduring.
The past can be a reminder of our fortitude, so long as the present struggle does not surpass the struggles of the past, lest we loose hope in the realization that we have entered new and uncharted waters.

Scene 23, Michael Meets the Lavery boys

Mostly, Michael would stay up late in the barn and tend to his woodworking. He was a passionate craftsman. He was more of an artist really, but he hated titles and pretension and insisted that his craft was merely a hobby.
On his hikes he would locate and collect burls to make into fine bowls, and tabletops to sell in town and in the city when they needed money.

Michael met the Lavery boys on one such trip he was making into Seattle.

His small craft was having a bit of engine trouble in the port of Langley, where it was docked.
Some friendly Irish lads offered to lend him a hand. The darker complected of the two was quiet and went by the name Daniel. The other, Joseph, was far more outspoken, had a rudy complection and a firm handshake. He spoke with Joseph while Daniel immediatly took to tinkering with the engine of Michaels small craft.
He was immediately intrigued with them, they said they were coming through on business, and he knew just what kind. He immediately pinned them for bootleggers based on the style of their craft and the way they were dressed. Also, their boat seemed a bit too weighted down to be carrying anything other then barrels of booze.

After working all morning to fix the problem without success, the boys offered to give him a lift into Seattle on their own craft since they were headed that way anyhow. After the time they had invested in helping him, he felt obliged to accept their kind offer, that and his family was in desperate need of some cash.
On the short trip across the Puget Sound they chatted like old friends.

Michael had an earnest but kind nature and told the lads that they were not as discreet about their business as they ought to be. He advised them to dress down, and carry fishing gear like crab pots on their boat, in plain sight so as not to arouse suspicion.
This of course was during their early years of rum running and they were grateful for his honesty. By the time they docked in the city Michael had given Daniel and Joseph his address, and invited them to come and visit the island any time they liked. He even offered to give them a barrel of his own homemade cider to try if they came.
As it turned out, the boys did visit when they had business out on Whidbey Island, and they found it to be a welcoming and lively place, especially in the summer when lots of folks were coming and going.

Scene 22b, More on MIchael

Michael hated the idea of hiring help to harvest the apple crop every year. He dreaded any task that required too much organization and detail. So instead of hiring a crew to pick his apples and sell them in the city, he simply put a sign out in the front of his driveway that said:
“APPLES. YOU PICK. CHEAP!”
It seemed to attract plenty of folks who were passing through. Though he made a considerable amount less than he would have had he run his orchard like any other farmer, it was less nonsense and therefore good enough for him. Besides that, most of the money he made from the apples came from the cider he brewed on his property. It wasn’t nearly as strong as the hard stuff most people in the city liked to drink, but it was good for a buzz and most of his customers were his friends and neighbors there on the island. They would stop in for a visit, share a meal and have a walk. Michael always shared a sample of the brew. Finally they would load a barrel onto their truck and bid their host a good day.

Scene21, Running whiskey, the Lavery's and the Puget Sound

The Puget Sound was the most practical place to be if you were in the business of booze transport. Due to the excess of islands, inlets, large peninsula, and vast amounts of land to patrol, the task of guarding the coast was far too daunting for any governmental organization to actually claim any real amount of control over. The Puget Sound was a Rumrunner’s paradise.

Washington was allotted a whopping 22 coastguard to patrol the entire state and a few of them were crooked. Still, those hounds somehow managed to sniff out a good number of very substantial shipments coming in from Canada into Seattle. Many a barrel of fine whiskey was dumped right into the sound.
On days like that, Runners would nudge one another and say, “What I wouldn’t give to be an fish just off the harbor on Whidbey today!” That of course was a way of telling one another not to do any business around Whidbey or Camano for a few days. The guards and the police were like that. They would bust a few boats in one area and then stay there and strut around town for a few days, make their presence known and get their due; a few pats on the back from the mayor, attend a few social events in their honor.
Most of the arrests were first timers who couldn’t read the roads or the water well enough to navigate themselves quietly, under the radar of the police and the coast guard. They were guys who got sick of paying the professionasl and opted to take it upon themselves to do a little importing of their own. The problem was, as it always is with any first-timers in anything, they would fumble around too long. Keeping lanterns lit on board, drinking the cargo while they went, bellowing to one another and attracting all kinds of attention. But, bothering with the first timers kept the heat off of the professionals; the cops had to stay busy with someone. So the big runners always left a little room for the little guys to get in on the action.

Most of the runners stayed close to the port, even when they weren’t transporting. It was the best way to keep a listen on the latest location on the coast guard and the police. Some of them stayed all day long, chain smoking and shooting the breeze with local fishermen and dockworkers, as they had not much else to do and no real jobs to attend to. They treated the water front like an office, checking in with boats coming in from Canada and Anacortes. They always knew when the Coasties were up north, hiding out in the San Juan Islands, because fewer boats came in from Anacortes which was a main drop off point for Canadian distilled whiskey.
The rule up north for most runners was, once someone spotted the coast guard hiding out on the water, all boat transports going south into Seattle were called off and instead, the goods were moved by land, down the highway if the mover had the gumpton.
This was an edge the Lavery’s had over other runners; they were a hybrid operation which ment they could co-ordinate movement by land or sea. They had access to both trucks and fast boats.


The Lavery Brothers Moving Company was one of the few large operations that would run large amounts of whiskey by land. For most runners, the risk was too great to even attempt transport from Canada by any other way but sea. The Lavery’s discovered a little port by the name of Anacortes. It was a small port, Northwest of Seattle. It served as the main shipping point for the San Juan Islands. Anacortes provided access to the highway, the sea and to Whidbey Island. Whidbey could be used, as an alternate route should one need to.

Their land and sea operation had not always been that way. They had began in 1926 with three men and one moving truck, but recently, their operation had grown exponentially and they invested their profits into some speed boats thus catapulting them into becoming one of the larger and more reputable movers in the state.
Who’s to say just how it all began exactly?
The gist is that the Lavery boys could put away the booze. Since prohibition began, the whole Lavery clan grew tired of paying an arm and a leg for the drink. They decided to save a little on the side by picking up large quantities themselves and cutting out the middle man.
Both Joseph and Daniel ran the operation. Joseph was older with a sense for organization and numbers. He did most of the coordinating and dealt with payment. He also ran the tavern, which the family had recently opened.
Daniel had a cool demeanor and knew when to talk and when to shut up. He did most of the footwork; drop offs and pick-ups.
Since the family moving company took them to places like Anacortes or even Canada from time to time, they simply loaded up a barrel or two before returning back to the city. No extra costs, no fancy plans, just a barrel or two.
Once or twice, they offered to pick up a barrel for a friend who had a tavern. They charged a hefty fee for the risk, and with the extra profit they brought home three barrels for themselves, rather then the usual two. The third was bottled up and sold in small amounts to friends, turning even more of a profit. So it went until it became a full operation with boats and deliveries, radios and even a bookkeeper.
By 1927 business was great for them. They had adopted more customers due to a recent apprehension of a very reputable competitor. In 1926, a runner, (though he was more of a booze tycoon) by the name of Roy Olmstead was arrested in Seattle. His arrest displaced a lot of thirsty folks who found that the Lavery brothers were more than happy to satisfy their taste for good Canadian whiskey
Since there was only one highway from Canada to Seattle and the police patrolled it heavily. The now imprisoned ex booze tycoon, Roy Olmstead, inspired Joseph. Olmstead had been known for doing all his shipping activity in broad daylight. The philosophy was simple; sometimes, obvious behavior is the least obvious. They ran their operation like a business. Under the guise of being a moving company, they had so far gone four years without a single arrest on their team, which consisted of mostly family and a few trusted friends.

Although the brothers enjoy a bit of financial prosperity, thanks to the bootlegging, it was never their intention to make a business for themselves in organized crime. They didn’t run their operation like a mob the way most rum runners do. They didn’t highjack shipments, fight with other runners for turf, or even carry guns.
The Lavery’s come from a strong Catholic family who strongly disagree with the Prhibition laws.
Joseph and Daniels parents, William and Anna immigrated from Belfast, Ireland with their 5 children 15 years earlier. They came to Washington to join Williams brother in the moving business. The boys and their siblings spent the better part of their teenage years in Seattle, yet still spoke with thick Irish accents.