Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Excerpts From Grandpa’s Letter – April 23, 1939

These are two excerpts from one of Grandpa’s letters, with the salutation, “Dear Chase and Sanborn”.

Alfred Duryee Guion (Grandpa)

Alfred Peabody Guion (Lad) at the swimming hole at one of the Socony-Vacuum Camps.

There arrived in the same mail with your letter another very interesting document of another kind – – a draft from F. A. O’Connor, with a letter as follows: “Your son Alfred was unable to collect the salary due him from the inter-America Co.  before he left Caracas to take a position with the Socony-Vacuum Oil Co., and asked me to collect and forward the money to you.  Yesterday I received a check from the IA for Bolivars 797.50, which I converted into American currency in the form of the attached draft for $249.70 made payable to you in accordance with Alfred’s instructions.  It will interest you to know that I have had the pleasure of being instrumental in placing your son in his new position, and that I have every confidence in his ability to make good.”

Daniel Beck Guion, “out in the field” in Venezuela.

And you, Dan, old snozzynozzle, your letter asking me to get busy on college catalogs found me way ahead of you.  I had already gone to the library and looked up colleges giving courses in geology, written to the Am. Inst. of Mining & Met. Eng.  and asked for their recommendations and had dispatched in answer thereto letters to some fifteen colleges.  I did fall down on the Alaska one but have remedied that today.  Don’t assume, young fellow, that because you have seen the interior of one small country in S. A. you know all about S. A. It would be like someone living for six months in the Kentucky Mountains and writing home that he knew the United States.  In fact I believe South America is far larger than the U. S.  Argentina, with its temperate climate, you might find an entirely different proposition.  However, I think your reasoning on the whole is sound and there would be more opportunities naturally in a new country, like Alaska.  I think you are wise also in not expecting too much, because, as you have already learned from your present brief experience, “the other fellow’s grass always looks greener”.

Tomorrow, I will be posting letters written in 1944. All five of Grandpa’s sons are in the service of Uncle Sam, scattered around the world.

Judy Guion

Venezuelan Adventure – Dear Guion – A Conclusion For Lad – April 21, 1939

COMPANIA CONSOLOLDADO DE PETTRLEO

EDIFICIO PRINCIPAL                                                                 COMPANIA ANONIMA                                                                     APARTADO 1706

Capital: Bs. 800.000.00

CARACAS, VENEZUELA

April 21, 1939

Dear Guion:

I have today forwarded a draft for $249.70 to your father in Trumbull, Connecticut, in accordance with your instructions.  The duplicate copy of the draft and the bank statement covering the purchase of the draft are attached.  As indicated in this statement, the check I received from Inter-America was for Bolivares 798.50, which was converted at the rate of Bs..3.19 to the dollar.

I hope that you like your new job and your associates and that you are not being overworked.

Please convey my best regards to Jook Wardlaw, and tell him to drop me a line when he gets time.

Sincerely yours,

F. A. O’Connor

**************************************************************

THE NATIONAL CITY BANK OF NEW YORK

SUCURSAL DE CARACAS

No. 1031

CARACAS, ______Abril 18___________ de 193 __9__

This is the part the copier would not scan.

It is not easy to notice everything but the name “Alfred P.” was erased and “A.D.” written in.

To the right of the name, the amount is $ 249.70 but at the bottom, the amount is 797.50.

The original amount was $798.50, reduced to 797.50 because of “Estampillas of $1.00.

$249.70 converted to 2020 dollars would be $4,631.07. Just imagine being owed that much back pay.

As Lad instructed, his back pay was to be sent to Grandpa.

**************************************************************

Now, at least one of Grandpa’s sons has been paid. Hopefully we will find out if Dan gets his back pay also.

Next weekend the story continues. 

Tomorrow, I will begin posting letters written in 1943 which bring rapid changes For Lad.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Conquistadors – News From The American Consul – April 16, 1939

Yesterday’s post was the final letter from Dan to the family back home, but I will not make that the end of the “Venezuelan Adventure.” I will continue the story of Dan’s Adventure with excerpts from letters written by Grandpa. 

This letter from Grandpa quotes a response from the American Consul in Venezuela regarding Grandpa’s barrage of letters to Officials in Venezuela about the fact that his sons had not been paid by Inter-America, Inc. since they began working for them late in 1938.

R-17

April 16, 1939

Dear Conquistadores:

If no news is good news I have received good news from both of you this week.  Probably tomorrow will make up the deficiency, but as Ced, Helen and I will start from here in the little Willys about 6 A. M. to drive down to New York for the purpose of being on hand when Ted’s (Uncle Ted Human, husband of Helen (Peabody) and  Grandma Arla Mary (Peabody) Guion’s next younger sister. He was seriously hurt while a passenger in a car that was driven off a bridge into a river. He has recovered enough to withstand the ardurous trip by ship back to New York)  boat docks, it may be we will be delayed a few more hours in hearing the latest S. A.  Bulletins.

However, here is one for you — a quotation from a letter just received from Stewart W. McMillin, American Consul at Venezuela, as follows:

“Reference is made to your letter of April 3rd, in regard to your two sons, employed by Intermerica, Inc.

“I have talked this morning with your son Alfred.  He says that Daniel is still in camp at work.  Alfred is waiting payment here, but seems to have been promised a new job with the Socony-Vacuum Oil Company, and expects to go to the oil fields near Pariaguan within a few days.  He has promised to write you very soon.  (Note by Editor: if he got a definite promise out of Lad he is doing very well)

“The matter of payment of American employees of the Interamerica Co. here is one which I have talked over earnestly and concisely with Mr. Maxudian, president of the company, lately in Caracas.  He left today for New York, however, a well-known lawyer here, Dr. Travieso Paul, is the man empowered to receive from the Ministry of Public Works, payments made on behalf of the company.  He informed me that about $6,500 should be received today (letter was dated April 10th) and some $9000 U. S. currency the end of the week and that arrangements have been made to pay proportionately on outstanding bills.  This, I am told, would take care of all salaries up to the end of December last.

The lawyer advises that subsequent payments on this contract, which are said to be worth $200,000 in all, should bring salary payments up to date within another two months. That, of course, one cannot say definitely, and I believe that both of your sons are rather pessimistic about full and final payment.

“However, I feel that, irrespective of the company president’s real desire in the matter, he realizes by this time that he must pay the men in the field as promptly as possible, and I am inclined to feel that if the men will hold together and go on with the work, this will ensure the continuation of payment by the government and that before the end of Spring they should all be fully paid.

“I Hope you will communicate with us from time to time.  I expect to place the whole matter before our State Department soon and should prefer to have the official there in possession of the circumstances before you communicate with them.

“Just as I had finished this letter, a man from the Carora camp came in.  He says that Saturday evening, the 8th, he saw your son Daniel and that he was well and contented.  Some money had just reached the camp and been distributed.”

Next weekend I will continue the story of Dan’s Adventure.

Tomorrow, I will begin posting letters from 1940. Lad is still working in Venezuela and Ced and Dan are in Anchorage, Alaska, working in their desired fields. 

Judy Guion

Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters – Joys And Sorrows – March 17, 1939

Ted Human, Dan Guion and their crew in Venezuela

Friday, March 17

Quebrada Totuche

My dear Admiring Public,

I modestly take up my pen on this night to acquaint you with the joys and sufferings of the past few days.  As day follows inexorable day, I lose what little sanity I possess, and my frequent forays over the lunatic fringe shall be a monument to future martyrs who bleed out there finer sensibilities in the steaming jungles of uncertainty and dismay.  Only this morning I was so bewildered by impinging vexations that I arose at the usual time and ate breakfast.

In short, things are going much the same as usual.  Mail came last night, the first in two weeks.  Also came word that Mr. Human is better, the money is “coming”, and Bill Rudolph will be back (alas!).  In the meantime I am puttering on office work, there being no more fieldwork to do.  Jim Shields and I are here at camp, Fred is at the Primero Sabana camp, and all the rest are in Carora or Caracas, waiting for money or news.  Jim and I are the only ones working!

Sun. March 19

Only development:

Fred came up for the day.  No further word from either Carora or Caracas. Carajo!

Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters – Hello Cantadores – March, 1939

To Chandler Chorus Society (Grandpa’s writing)

Hello Cantadores,

I have not forgotten how to sing yet.  I have been learning some Spanish songs which are popular down here.  The natives have an unusual two-part harmony which I shall try to learn.

When I first arrived in these parts I heard a radio over which was coming a most unusual chant.  There were several syllables at a time, in a sing-song way, followed by periods of silence.  No music or other noise accompanied the program.  There was one voice, no more.

One day in Caracas I went to the lottery drawing.  Lotteries are big affairs down here.  In a large hall are gathered many interested citizens, some clean and respectable, some not so clean and not so respectable, many not even human.  Seated on a platform is the man who calls out the long series of numbers which won a small or large sum of money.  As I stood in the hot, sweaty air I suddenly recalled the unusual chant, then blushed above the color of the heat, because the chant of the man calling off the numbers, followed by the periods of silence while selecting another number was the same “music” I had thought I was hearing over the radio!

Hasta luego,

Dan

Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters – Trap-shooting – March, 1939

No heading so the first page of this letter may be missing. I do not know if it was addressed to Ced or to Grandpa/family.

Olga’s Oriental friend has made a remarkable discovery two kilometers up the valley.  There is a large tree there with a hollow trunk.  The hole leading into it is there, but the hole leading out is missing, (like the cylinders on Ced’s car).  Thus it is a veritable trap.  All manner of beasts and creatures have entered, particularly the larger animals who never do things by halves, hence, in doing things by “holes” they are trapped, and men come for miles to hunt the animals thus segregated, shooting them down without the slightest compunction but with plenty of noise.  It is said that “trap-shooting” originated here.  The catch, however, is that no-body can retrieve their prey, because of only one hole, and all.

Another interesting feature of the valley is the fishes.  There aren’t any!  What the hell, the stream is too small anyhow, and you can’t expect a fish to live on air.  That’s for birds.

I don’t know why I write letters to you.  I don’t seem to get any.  Anyhow – it’s bed-time –

Hasta luego,

Dan

Ced – Here is a letter for the Chandler Chorus.

I will post the Chandler Chorus letter tomorrow.

Judy Guion

Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters – A Maracaibo Oil Camp – March 14, 1939

Mena Grande

Amigos mios,

I am in a genuine oil camp of the Maracaibo district, having a large portion of that “wonderful experience” which was offered by my coming down here.  Here is the story:

Fred Chion, Carl Nelson and I have been working ahead of the main camp.  Boss Rudolph has been in Caracas.  The work which was laid out for us has been finished.  No money — no news has reached us yet.  No mail has come from Carora since I returned last week (Friday).

The camp at Primera Sabena is 70 +- kilometers from Mena Grande, the nearest of the oil camps.  (Caribbean {Petroleum Corp., Shell). With the weekend approaching and no news or work, we three decided to hit the trail for Mena Grande.

Accordingly, we arranged for 2 mules and a horse to make the trip.  At five o’clock on Sat. A. M.  We set off in the dark-ness of night.  We passed the mountain range by 11:30, and crossed the long Maracaibo-basin lowlands by 4 P. M.

This camp is 17 kilometers from the lake.  Up on a hill are the American and English quarters.  Down below is San Felipe, living quarters of the natives.  Mountains rise to the East and North —-the lake lies far off to the South and West. 

The San Felipe settlement is rather squalid, as any native place is wont to be. Regular rows of steel-plate, white-painted “houses” and sheds, covering several blocks, give San Filipe the true appearance of a camp.

To the South East are the oil fields, a plain from which rise the oil derricks.

The first prize goes to “Club Americano” and the mess hall! First real civilization since leaving the Grace Lines Santa Elena! (The ship Dan and Uncle Ted Human took from New York to Venezuela in October of 1938)

The Club is a rambling building a-top the hill. Tennis courts — Terrace tables, bar, dance floor and stage, moving pictures free of charge (Sat.)  and cleanliness, genuine Coca Cola! honest-to-goodness ice, pure drinking water, make our visit here seem like a dream.

At the Dining Hall we had “civilized” food.  Beets, string beans, fresh butter, real American bread, clean tablecloths and silver completed the dream.  It is so very different from the Palm-thatched hovel along the path at which we stopped on the way here yesterday to get some hair-sump-dirt-coffee.

The Hotel Commercio in Carora seems “civilized” until one sees the American place, and remembers real butter and vegetables.

Tomorrow, I will post the rest of this letter.

Judy Guion

Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters – My Trip Back To Camp – March 5, 1939

Sun., March 5

Primera Sabana

Querido gente,

I arose early on Friday to get the Quebrada Auiba bus. The driver had agreed to drop around to the Hotel Commercio to pick me up.  He said it would be at 4 A. M.

“Demasiado temprano”, I smiled in my captivating Castilian.

“Las cinco? Las seis? Las Oecho?” he asked.  We compromised on five A. M.

Accordingly, at 4 A. M. my ailing alarm clock, borrowed the night before from the Hotel management, rang the hour, and I sallied forth, after the sleepy door-tender had rolled from his hammock in the hall to un-bar the front door.

At five o’clock no bus showed up.  After a bit, as the East paled into dawn, doors began to open and women and children began to clop clop clop down the sidewalks in the direction of church.

It was 6:15 when the bus arrived.  There were several others aboard already.  We set off for the mountains by about 6:30.  As the Pueblo of Carora fell behind us, the driver suddenly remembered that he had forgotten a passenger.  Back we went.  This time we set out for La Plagita and made the trip without further incident.

My mule was waiting, saddle on.  I set off on the 35 kilometer ride to camp.  After riding a short distance we came to the gate at the old truck terminal near the Rio Camaruru.  I led the mule through the gate, then held the gate-way for a young boy who was approaching on his horse.

Realizing this, friend mula set off on her own hook, stirrups bouncing, saddle-bags flapping, as my canteen and Poncho fell to the ground.  Knowing that any show of excitement would render her more wary, I set off in a mild full manner behind her, waiting my opportunity to circle around a head and cut her off.  After a merry game of catch as catch can for a kilometer, I managed to climb aboard once more.

I arrived at the Palmarito Camp by 4:15 P. M.,  Having left La Plagita at 9 A. M. Ate supper, spent night, came on to Primera Sabana  on Saturday.

Two-day, Sunday, I returned to the old camp to spend the day.  Alfred has not yet returned, and spite of the telegram.  We still wait word, money, and developments.

The prima vera (spring) has come to the mountains.  We are beginning to have occasional showers.  In a few weeks it will be winter!  Their winter follows spring, because it is cloudy after spring, hence colder.

Each day, now, we see the Tombas. Tombas are felled trees on a mountain slope, slightly dried, then fired.  It is the native way to clear land for Canucas.  The fire, fanned by the spring breezes, crackles and roars in the hot sun.  Pillars of bronze smoke rise into the blue, passing like a golden screen over the face of the sun, and mingling with the whiter clouds.  At night, thousands of tiny lights flicker on the mountain slopes like elusive cities which come to spend the night, then disappear at dawn.

We hear thunder in the mountains and over Paramo.  This is a powerful country in the spring, and great forces of electricity and fire are released.  Majestic!

Bueno, pues,

Dan

Tomorrow, I will begin posting a week of letters written in 1940. Lad remains in Venezuela. Dan and Ced are both in Anchorage, Alaska.

Judy Guion

 

Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters – Waiting For Alfred – March 2, 1939

Daniel Beck Guion and two workers

Thurs., March 2

If Alfred doesn’t come to-day, I shall take the Zuebrado Arriba bus to la Plajita.  I have been away from camp since Sunday, and the boys will be wondering where I am and why.

No further news has come

in Carora is a college (Collegio Federal).  In the college is a Professor of English.  He is a West Indian Negro named Dr. Joseph.  I went to see him this morning to ask if he would show me around the college.  It is a small affair, of course.  He took me to his class in English, and I spent an interesting our sitting “on the other side of the fence”.  There were only two students there out of the class of 15. Dr. Joseph says they were studying so hard for a coming exam that they had no time for class.  Maybe they heard I would be there, and were bashful!

Yesterday P. M.  I visited la casa of one of my recently laid-off peons.  He didn’t let me come until he had given the word at home that I was coming.  Consequently, when I arrived, everything was suspect and span.  All the religious pictures were hung in guilds-edged glory on the walls.  The dirt floor showed streaks of hasty room.  The women – folks were dolled up in their best clothes.  They all were ill-at-ease for quite a while, but when I began teaching them some English, they relaxed a bit.

Today, later on, I expect to visit another house in which dwells Jesus and another peon who used to work for us.  I have seen quite a bit of Carora this trip, and I wish there were more time for looking around.

Caracas is a ciudad — Carora is a Pueblo — Santa Rosa is a publita — Palmarito, with one house, is (I forgot).

Tomorrow I arise at madrugada to get my bus.

Su segurisimo servidor,

Pancho

Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters – Incidents – February 28, 1939

Daniel Beck Guion in Venezuela

I suppose that the last thing to write is incidents, using information as a background. Last night as we drove to Carora, Alfred related his experiences of how one rides in a bus down here. It took him and hour to say it. How long would it take to write? Tomorrow, I shall ride in a bus. Perhaps it will make a good story.

I am getting to a point where I can carry on simple conversation with natives here. My vocabulary is limited.

I have finally gotten away from my topography work on the end of the line. I am running the transit for Fred, now, or running levels. Each day I ask my rod-man the names of trees, birds, flowers etc., and know plenty. We discussed seasons and climate the other day. Their summer comes before spring, spring before winter! It is an interesting theory, based mostly on rain and sun.

I look forward con mucho gusto to my return home. I wish I could get there in the spring, which, of course, is the best time of the year, but unless the Co. folds up, it will not be until summer at the earliest.

Alfred has a couple of prospects for jobs here if he does not stay with the company (Interamerica, Inc.). 

Although I am vitally interested in seeing all I can of South America, I have no desire to stay here more than one year at a stretch. I am a bit wary of the climate. I don’t mind summer now and then, but enough is enough.

It is spring down here. As soon as we get a couple of showers, the whole country-side will be a mass of flowers. This is the bird mating season. New leaves are replacing the old. The temperature stays the same … too hot in the sun.

We are close to Mena Grande at the Primera Sabena Camp. Perhaps Fred and I will drop down there some week-end to see a few North Americans. It is a day’s ride on a horse. We could leave Sat. and return Sunday. They sell civilized food there, rather than Papaya (lechosa), caraotas (black beans), platanos (pink, hard bananas), cambures (regular bananas), arepa, yucca, patatus (sweet potatoes), etc.

I’ll add more to this letter before I return to Camp.

Flash! I shaved off my goat foliage but still sport a Cedric. (a mustache)

Wed. – March 1

Still no money. Telegram saying Ted is better! Also (I suppose my Spanish translation to English is correct) it says that Alfred is coming back with information. I await.

Tomorrow, I will begin posting letters written in 1944. All of Grandpa’s five sons are serving Uncle Sam in one way or another.

Judy Guion