My Teenage Apprenticeship at Peppermint Stick, St. Thomas, USVI
The shop was
located on Strand Gade (Street in Danish), near the former slave market, in downtown, Charlotte Amalie, our
capital city, named after Danish Royalty.
St. Thomas was a Danish colony before it was bought by the United States
in 1917.
Peppermint
Stick was owned by Mrs. Iris Pickwood Corbiere and Mrs. Beulah Kirkitterp Lancloh. Mrs. Lancloh’s
brother was the owner of Lochhart’s Bakery, where my mother, Daisy Marsh Romeo
worked. Mrs. Lancloh who did the
accounting visited once a week, and soon not at all, as she sold her share of
Peppermint to Mrs. Corbiere. Mrs. Lancloh’s husband, a retired medical doctor
was cared for by my grandmother, a nurse.
My grandmother, Alvina Willette-Moses, arranged with Mrs. Lancloh for my aunt, Agnes Daniel, to work at the shop. Aunt Agnes’s husband had died and she had become a single mom to two sons, and four daughters. Soon after, several of Alvina’s grandchildren (my cousins, my sister, and I), started doing part-time work at Peppermint Stick.
We and a few other teenagers were hired because we were connected to Mrs.
Lancloh or Mrs. Cobiere via family, personal
connections, or work. We worked at weekends and during seasonal or school
holidays.
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We were under
the supervision of several adults. There was Mrs. Iris Corbiere, the owner, light-skinned, slim, and very particular about
her weight. Coming from the working class, I was very impressed by a Mediterranean cruise she had been on. It was something most
islanders would never have dreamed of. She
had complained of gaining weight and was on a diet. She was the
first person I remember who ate yogurt. This was the 60s and yogurt was not
popular then. I thought it looked disgusting and shuddered at the idea of
eating it myself. Many years later, however, I am a great fan of yogurt.
As a fifteen-year-old, I admired Mrs. Cobiere’s accomplishments and sought her attention by presenting her with a framed watercolor painting of The Virgin Mary which I had done in my art class at SS Peter and Paul’s High School. I thought it was beautiful, but had no idea how she felt about it. She did thank me. Art was my favorite elective.
Aunt Agnes (Miss Agnes) kept a sharp eye on us. She was approachable and we teenagers often relied on her advice. Her most famous quote was “Too late, too late, shall be the cry—” her warning which we heeded as best as we could. It is exactly what she said when I told her my prom date (Leandro, a workmate) had given me a present. To her, a gift implied that he would want something in return, like sexual favors. I remember returning it to him after that strong hint. But we did go to the prom, a formal dance that takes place during your final year of high school. (In this photo Mrs. Corbiere, Nicolas, and Aunt Agnes at Peppermint Stick.
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Then there was
Sylvia, who was married to the older brother of Randolph Christian (Dikko) who
worked at Peppermint Stick. She was a beautiful, young woman, with dark, smooth skin
and always elegantly dressed. She came from the Island of St. Kitts, the same
island my aunt had lived on before her husband died. They had a lot to chat
about.
Among the young
staff or helpers, there was Nicolas (Nicki), then, an annoying eleven-to-twelve-year-old
to us older teenagers. He was Mrs. Corbiere’s adopted son, who hung around on
occasion and tried to boss us around.
Peppermint
Stick was a home away from home and working there became a sort of rite of
passage for my younger sister, Arlene, my cousins, Linetta, Claudette, Grace, and
me. It paved the way to the real working
world and was the beginning of our training in self-sufficiency—earning money
and being responsible. Not only did we have to sell things, which required us
to exercise our people skills, but we also had to stock goods, price them and
take a yearly inventory. We hated taking inventory because we had to take stock
of every single item in the shop as well as in the storeroom on the second
floor of the building.
Practicing my
people skills took great effort on my part as I was an extremely shy teenager. One
of my earliest social and cultural challenges while working behind the counter
at Peppermint Stick, was an encounter with a sailor whose navy ship had docked
for a furlough. I remember him staring directly into my eyes. I looked down and
turned beet red with embarrassment. To us, people raised in an African-imbued culture,
this was like a violation of personal space— totally impolite. It was the first
of many eye-to-eye confrontations I would later experience while a student in
the US. Nobody understood my embarrassing reaction to being stared at directly.
Like all shops,
Peppermint Stick was jam-packed at Christmas. Showcases were cordoned off and
barbed wire mesh was nailed upon them. The structures, which made us feel as if
we were in cages, were held together with sturdy 2x2 lumber to prevent thieves
from stealing goods. We stood behind the wire mesh, as though behind bars while communicating with and serving customers.
There are other memories that stand out. One of them was my first encounter with a fanatical dog lover. To us working-class islanders, at that time, dogs were animals we loved but were confined to our yards, and tied to a tree during the day if they were considered dangerous. Dogs were not allowed in houses. They slept in crude dog houses, under the shade of trees, steps, or under houses. To have a dog lick your face was unhygienic., and unthinkable.
I remember how taken aback I was, when
the governor’s wife, Mrs. Paiewonsky, came to shop to buy hats, balloons,
noise-makers, leis, and party favors for her dog’s birthday celebration. It was
a cultural shock. We talked about it for days.
Another
incident, not at all pleasant, was being punched in the left eye by a young man
while trying to prevent his theft of an item and to stop him from verbally abusing
a fellow teenage worker, Barbara Bryant. This attack sent me to Knud Hansen Memorial
Hospital where a few
stitches were sown below my eyebrow. I still carry the scar over my left
eye today. The attack resulted in a court case that was dismissed because the
culprit failed to appear in court. We heard afterward that the young man’s
parents had sent him off to New York.
My
sister, Arlene, jogged my memory regarding Ben, an
alcoholic, who hung around with other alcoholics at the Market Square, a stone’s
throw from Peppermint Stick. He was an occasional customer. He was said
to have been a World War II vet and was shell-shocked. Ben was
especially fond of shiny, toy sheriff badges. When
he bought a badge, he would demand that one of us
girls pin the badge onto his shirt.
Ben always reeked of
alcohol, so when he entered the store, we teenage
girls would dash upstairs to the
storeroom to avoid him.
We took home
twelve dollars every Saturday. The money my sister and I earned was turned over
to our mother who used it towards our monthly school tuition. We attended a
private Catholic school and my Mother needed any financial help she could get to
cover the tuition.
© Althea Romeo Mark
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Some
recent publications include: Short Story,” Easter Sunday,” published in The Sunday Observer, Jamaica,
24.04 2022, www.jamaicaobserver.com, previously
published in The Caribbean Writer and Kariba Fortella: Karibishe Novella,
Norway, Poems, “She,” and “ Scalded
Dreams” published in Shakti: The Feminine Principle, Energy & Lifeforce, an
international anthology of poetry, KKPC Publishing, India, 2022; Short story
“Wimmelskafts’ Hill,” published in Bookends, The Daily Observer, Jamaica,
30.01.22, www.jamaicaobserver.com; Three poems, “Dopo Di Te..” ( After you..),
“Un Pinguini Si Congeda,” (A Pinguin Takes Its Leave,” and “L’Ultima
Traversata,”(The Final Crossing) published in Antologia di Poesia,
Contemporanea Internazionale, Universalia, Trento, Italy, 2021; Three poems,
“Carrying the Spirit of a Siafu,” “Nyam,” and “The Endless Tugging,” published
in Letters from the Self to the World, Abrazos, DoveTales 10th
Anniversary anthology, A Writing for Peace Publication, 2021
Dear Althea
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your short story about your teenage at Peopermintstick. Just as I was settling down to indulge in a long read, the Story ended. The photographs are precious. The architecture is both both instructive and tempts one to experience a particular type of nostalgia. They bring back memories of the late sixties. I came to St. Thomas during the late sixties. I am always fascinated in the history of Catholic schools in the Caribbean. The Catholic discipline and pedagogy tends to make a lasting impression on students. Thanks once more for sharing.
Thank you for sharing your experience as a teenager employed at Peppermint Stick in St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands. Very interesting perspective on how your value system was heavily influenced by the strong women around you at the time.
ReplyDeleteAh, to be able to turn what really happened into what reads like fiction. Thanks for the moments that triggered laughter. How wonderful your use of language - the exactness - that makes what happened so real - that makes things happen again as one reads. How awful though was that punch in the eye. I suffered with you though that happened way back when you were not yet 20. Oh, how really really exquisitely rendered! How extremely enjoyable this was to read. Ah, you rival Charles Dickens with your story telling skills.
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