“Lavinia. Give me several days to think about your surprising request. I will seriously consider how something might be arranged.”
The chance came sooner than he imagined. Lennart stopped by one May morning and begged James to go with him to the offices. “We have several applicants for clerical positions in Detroit and even two landlookers from New Hampshire. One of them has been as far west as Ohio. Clerks are another matter. Most of them are barely able to read, and as for ciphering — you might whistle.”
“I have a rather unusual applicant for a clerk,” said James. “Let me find my hat and I will tell you on the way.”
• • •
Armenius thought his cousin Dieter Breitsprecher was, aside from Hans Carl von Carlowitz, the best traveling companion he had ever known. Their large knapsacks were packed, they were ready for the wild forests. Armenius brought tobacco, not Cuban cigars but dark and tarry twists. Dieter carried his heavy.60 caliber jaeger rifle, and Armenius a new.50 caliber plains rifle with a beaver tail cheek piece — Dieter slavered over this gun and before they left he ordered one from the Missouri gunsmith.
“It will be my memento of this journey,” he said.
“You will have other mementos.”
The journey, familiar to Armenius, was full of shocks and wonders for Dieter. The Erie Canal boat was insufferably tiresome at four miles an hour. On fine days they ran along the towpath, sometimes ranging out to see the countryside. They had time for talk.
“The thing is,” said Armenius, “there is here a complete lack of knowledge of forest management. Americans do not understand shelter belts, they have never heard of thinning trees nor pruning them, they cannot believe that soil has anything to do with forests, nor water. Hedgerows? What an idea! They do not believe in hedgerows. Nor coppices. The most elemental precepts of forestry are as Chinese.”
“Surely they have some sense of soil erosion, so painfully obvious when it appears?”
“Not at all. They accept it as the natural order of the world. And although they choke in the fumes of the city they do not make a connection with the purer air in the forest. ‘Why is the air clean and fresh near the forest but not in the city?’ one can ask. The answer is ‘Because God made it thus.’ So extensive are the forests here that Americans cannot see an end to them. Therefore, they have no interest in preserving them.”
“Do not your employers see the economic advantages of maintained forests? Is there no reforestation at all?”
“None. They do not even leave seed trees in their vast cutover lands. One hard rain or a deep snow comes and the soil begins to run downhill like molten gold. If I say anything to the Dukes about commonsense ways to protect and repair their cut forestlands for the future they look at me as if I were mad. Well, perhaps I am mad. I hate aiding them in their quest to destroy every forest in North America.”
“This is quite sad. What are the most pressing uses here for cut timber? Houses, I suppose.”
“Railroad ties. I think that the railroads should manage private forests where they might grow trees for ties. But it is not done. They take down wild forests and transport the timber at high cost. Charcoal furnaces for smelting use uncountable numbers of trees. Moreover, every household consumes almost one hundred cords of wood during the long cold winters. The fireplaces here are large enough to roast an entire ox. But stoves are making an advance. And speaking of fires! Mein Gott, the forests are constantly on fire, but not controlled fire — the settlers set vast acreages ablaze to clear the way for farms and houses. Then, disappointed that the soil is poor, they move on west, always west, and do the same elsewhere. Not one in a hundred American farmers can tell you the characteristics of soils. The Indians were better managers of the forest than these settlers. They were very good observers of water, weather, all animals and growing things. And they forbore to cut lavishly. They used many parts of many trees for different tools and medicines, not unlike the old German peasantry.”
“I wonder you do not return to Germany,” said Dieter.
“Dieter, through no doing of my own I was born in this country. It is a population where each settler vies to be more of a Nichtswisser than his neighbor — learning is considered shameful — but I am used to it. It would be difficult to change. Besides, Germany now is not the Germany I have in my mind.”
“I wonder,” said Dieter.
“I want to see what happens next. Always this is my interest.”
• • •
In Detroit they spent a day walking about, passed a small plank-sided building with a sign that read GENERAL LAND OFFICE MICHIGAN.
“Let us go in,” said Dieter. “I want to see what sort of man the recorder is.”
He was tall and pale from lack of sunlight, his eyes colorless and expressionless. He greeted them with a jerk of a smile. “What can I do for you? Land purchase today? A few town lots?” He stared at Armenius.
“No, not today. In a few weeks, perhaps. We are just getting our bearings,” he said.
“I think I have seen you here before,” said the man, “in the company of Mr. James Duke?”
“It is possible.”
“Yes, I believe he said you were his landlooker.”
“I was,” said Armenius.
“And you are no longer?” asked the man almost happily.
“No, I am yet, but I am on leave of absence just now. This is my cousin Dieter Breitsprecher, who is visiting. He is a forester from Germany. We are going to look at the timberland.”
“Right,” said the man. “This is the place for timber, yes it is.” There was a silence and the man, now gazing out the window, said almost dreamily that one of the federal surveyors and his chainman had stopped in the day before. “Dozens of surveyors measuring Michigan these days. And some like you coming to get hold of timberland.”
“Where are those surveyors working now?”
“Marking out townships. Northwest of where Mr. Duke purchased. They said the prospects for a timberman are even richer up north. I think to myself that I might buy a forty, could I ever have the money. Clerks make very little, you know, though the employment is steady.”
“May your wish be granted,” said Armenius, smiling like the famous cat who caught the mouse. He spoke kindly to this man remembering that James Duke had treated him as a servant, saying “Come, fellow, we haven’t all day,” and ordering him to copy the papers out in a fair hand “instead of black claw marks as an ink-foot crow might make.”
“Are they surveying along the shore?” asked Dieter, looking at the map on the counter. The man nodded. “Along the shore, inland, along the rivers, almost to Mackinac — a huge amount of territory — all pinelands.” Armenius would have asked more questions but a man came to complain about the old French long lots in Detroit. “Like damn noodles,” he said. “Long, long skinny noodles. I want my money back.”
“Many thanks,” said Armenius to the clerk. “We may come back tomorrow and speak a little with you.”
“I look forward to that.”
They left and returned to their boardinghouse. “I could not follow all that was said,” said Dieter. “What is a ‘forty’? Is he giving us important information about the surveying?”
“A ‘forty’ is a quarter of a quarter section — forty acres. And he was certainly giving us important information — and, I believe, asking for a bribe. We might modify our trip a little. I would like to see that northern region.”
“I would also like to see it. Perhaps you will not always be a landlooker for Duke and Sons. Let us find some dinner in this rough place. And talk with the clerk again tomorrow, then set out to find those wondrous pines.”