My granddaughter Morgan had watched the Sound of Music on television . Following that I was talking with her and the mention of Nuns came up. Morgan tells me the Nuns scared her. She was bothered by their habits. I told her who and what the Nuns did, and that they were nothing to be afraid of. I don't think she really has a fear of them, but got the reaction from Grandpa that she wanted. Kids are smart like that.
Anyway, this mention of Nuns brought back an old memory. When I was still living on Long Island and doing upholstery for a living, I was asked if I would do some work for the Sisters at the retreat in Sag Harbor. This work was to be done ,on the side, so to speak. Always anxious to make a few extra dollars I agreed. I hoped my boss didn't find out, and I carried some guilt about implicating a house full of Nuns in this clandestine operation. It did feel a little dishonest, somehow.
I was given directions to this retreat. The name of the retreat is Cormaria. It is located in the village of Sag Harbor and sits on sixteen beautiful acres, next to the sea. Originally built by a Mr. Frank Havens in 1905 as a private residence, it came into the possession of the Scared Heart of Mary religious order. In 1943 it was a finishing school for young Catholic ladies. In 1949 it became a retreat house.
I drove up to the front entrance and knocked on the door.The door opened and a Nun appeared. Knowing very little about the religious order, I'm not Catholic, I wasn't sure how to address her so I just said, I'm here to recover some furniture. In a quiet, but very stern voice, this lady says, you must see the mother superior, please wait here. Then she disappeared around a corner and I was left standing there.The house was quiet,very quiet. The interior was paneled with heavy oak wainscoting and was dark with age. The ceilings seemed twelve foot high and the windows were made from Tiffany glass. I stood silently looking around. Soon the Nun reappeared,as if by magic, and escorted me to the Mother Superior. She sat behind the largest desk I had ever seen. To say I felt a bit intimidated is no exaggeration. After our introductions , the sister, as I was later told to call the others, left the room.
Mother Superior, that is the only way I addressed her, took me into a large dining room. There was a long oak table and eight matching chairs. It is these chairs that she wanted recovered. They were straight back chairs, heavy and ornate. The seats were covered in cowhide. The cowhide had become cracked and worn over the years. I assured Mother Superior I could recover these chairs with any leather/fabric of her choice. Following the selection of a material, the price was negotiated. I was asked to take no more than two at any one time.
And so, I took two at a time. Each time I returned the same process was repeated. I would knock on the front door and be escorted to the Mother Superior. Sometimes almost immediately,at others, I had to wait. Rarely did I see anyone else. Once I did see an older Nun who nodded at me and went down a hallway. The floor was hardwood, but she made no more sound than a Ninja ! Like in the movie, The Blue Brothers, she seemed to float down that hallway rather than walking. It was a bit unnerving.
Each time I returned with the finished chairs Mother Superior would examine them. I felt like I was being tested and graded. Would my work be acceptable, even for God to sit on ? I never heard any complaints so I guess it was alright. After the inspection we would go back into that office of hers. There, out of a drawer on the side of that massive desk, she would withdraw a checkbook. Not really a checkbook like you or I would think of, more like a ledger. She would write a check out in the most perfect cursive handwriting you have ever seen. A notation about the purpose neatly written in the comments section. I would be handed the check and dismissed.
That retreat was a place of mystery to me. Being in my early twenties, I felt a little uneasy there, as perhaps my lifestyle wasn't up to their standards. The interior was very quiet and quite dark. I imagined Nuns praying fervently in their rooms somewhere. It was a kind of creepy place. As is usual with the unknown, a bit of fear was always present. Just what I thought might happen I don't know, but Mother Superior has got a powerful ally that much is certain !
Anyway, this mention of Nuns brought back an old memory. When I was still living on Long Island and doing upholstery for a living, I was asked if I would do some work for the Sisters at the retreat in Sag Harbor. This work was to be done ,on the side, so to speak. Always anxious to make a few extra dollars I agreed. I hoped my boss didn't find out, and I carried some guilt about implicating a house full of Nuns in this clandestine operation. It did feel a little dishonest, somehow.
I was given directions to this retreat. The name of the retreat is Cormaria. It is located in the village of Sag Harbor and sits on sixteen beautiful acres, next to the sea. Originally built by a Mr. Frank Havens in 1905 as a private residence, it came into the possession of the Scared Heart of Mary religious order. In 1943 it was a finishing school for young Catholic ladies. In 1949 it became a retreat house.
I drove up to the front entrance and knocked on the door.The door opened and a Nun appeared. Knowing very little about the religious order, I'm not Catholic, I wasn't sure how to address her so I just said, I'm here to recover some furniture. In a quiet, but very stern voice, this lady says, you must see the mother superior, please wait here. Then she disappeared around a corner and I was left standing there.The house was quiet,very quiet. The interior was paneled with heavy oak wainscoting and was dark with age. The ceilings seemed twelve foot high and the windows were made from Tiffany glass. I stood silently looking around. Soon the Nun reappeared,as if by magic, and escorted me to the Mother Superior. She sat behind the largest desk I had ever seen. To say I felt a bit intimidated is no exaggeration. After our introductions , the sister, as I was later told to call the others, left the room.
Mother Superior, that is the only way I addressed her, took me into a large dining room. There was a long oak table and eight matching chairs. It is these chairs that she wanted recovered. They were straight back chairs, heavy and ornate. The seats were covered in cowhide. The cowhide had become cracked and worn over the years. I assured Mother Superior I could recover these chairs with any leather/fabric of her choice. Following the selection of a material, the price was negotiated. I was asked to take no more than two at any one time.
And so, I took two at a time. Each time I returned the same process was repeated. I would knock on the front door and be escorted to the Mother Superior. Sometimes almost immediately,at others, I had to wait. Rarely did I see anyone else. Once I did see an older Nun who nodded at me and went down a hallway. The floor was hardwood, but she made no more sound than a Ninja ! Like in the movie, The Blue Brothers, she seemed to float down that hallway rather than walking. It was a bit unnerving.
Each time I returned with the finished chairs Mother Superior would examine them. I felt like I was being tested and graded. Would my work be acceptable, even for God to sit on ? I never heard any complaints so I guess it was alright. After the inspection we would go back into that office of hers. There, out of a drawer on the side of that massive desk, she would withdraw a checkbook. Not really a checkbook like you or I would think of, more like a ledger. She would write a check out in the most perfect cursive handwriting you have ever seen. A notation about the purpose neatly written in the comments section. I would be handed the check and dismissed.
That retreat was a place of mystery to me. Being in my early twenties, I felt a little uneasy there, as perhaps my lifestyle wasn't up to their standards. The interior was very quiet and quite dark. I imagined Nuns praying fervently in their rooms somewhere. It was a kind of creepy place. As is usual with the unknown, a bit of fear was always present. Just what I thought might happen I don't know, but Mother Superior has got a powerful ally that much is certain !
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| Cormaria, as it appeared in 1943 |
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