Cool Cape May 2021-22

[46] excerpt from the cape
The original
manuscript,
which remains
at the offices
of Exit Zero
Publishing in
Cape May
New Yorker, and Rick Moody, an acclaimed novelist
best known for The Ice Storm.
I was mortified and wrote another note to
George, apologizing for what must have come across
as a very patronizing email — here I was explaining
the basics of the publishing industry to someone who
seemed steeped in it. But he hadn’t been offended in
the least and was surprised I could even find him on
Google. (George is as humble as he is charming.)
Later that year, George returned to our offices to
tell us more about his grandfather. Charles Whitecar
Miskelly, for all his obvious skills with words, was no
professional writer. He was born in 1880 and grew up
in Millville, NJ. He became a carpenter, although he
later gave that up to start breeding chickens. According
to George, the enterprise didn’t work out as
Charles had hoped and sometime in the 1930s his
grandfather lost everything. “He didn’t have a cent to
his name,” said George, “so he went back into carpentry
and did what he could to feed his family.”
George grew up in nearby Bridgeton and
although he had more than a passing interest in writing,
he didn’t discuss literature with his grandfather.
“We would go on fishing trips — he loved to fish on
the Maurice River. But he would never discuss writing.
I was always aware that he wrote a lot, on a typewriter
held together with fishing wire, but that was
the extent of it.” On a typewriter held together with
fishing wire. You can see how easy it was to fall in love
with the story of this book.
It was only after his grandfather passed away,
in 1963 at the age of 83, that George discovered the
manuscript and learned about the trip that Charles
had made, with his uncle, to the Philadelphia office of
J. B. Lippincott. “My grandfather was a shy man and
he got cold feet about visiting the publisher, but my
uncle apparently talked him into it,” said George. “I
don’t know what happened in that office, but Lippincott
were keen on putting the book on their fall print
list. However, it all fell apart when they told Charles
they wanted to make some changes.”
George kept the manuscript, along with other
stories written by his grandfather, in a closet for a
long time — more than 40 years. It was only when
he retired, in 2008, that he decided to devote time to
finally finding a publisher.
I feel proud, if I can be proud on behalf of a man
who I never met, to present this compelling piece
of work to the world. My guess is that you will be as
astonished as I was by the detailed descriptions of the
Lenni-Lenape way of life. This was a writer who had
either done a huge amount of research into Native
American culture, or who had substantial personal
experience of it. Given that Charles wrote this book
in rural South Jersey (about 60 years before Google
came along) and wasn’t given to taking day trips to
visit the Free Library of Philadelphia, it made me
wonder how he could have had access to this kind of
information. It made George wonder, too. “It’s a big
mystery to everyone in the family how he would have
known so much about the indian way of life,” he said.
“Sure, he would maybe go away fishing for the day, or
walking in the woods. But that doesn’t explain how he
could have learned so much about the Lenni-Lenape
people.”
Does George think the author’s note is genuine
— that the book is based on a true story passed along
by tribal elders? Or could Charles have played a little
fast and loose, trying to pass his manuscript off as an
authentic story rooted in Lenni-Lenape tradition.
“No, not at all,” said George. “He was a serious man,
a man of principles. The whole thing is fascinating. I
wish he were around to ask.”
So do I.
By the way, I looked up the company who made
the paper on which Charles typed his story — the
American Writing Paper Corporation began operations
in 1899 at Holyoke, MA, and at its peak controlled
75% of the country’s fine paper output. The
company went out of business in 1962. On the side
of the box is a little blue stamp that says Cohanzick
Office Supply Co., who were based in Bridgeton,
which neighbors Charles’ home town of Millville. I
don’t know who owned the office supply shop, but
was curious to see that Bridgeton’s zoo (the oldest
in New Jersey) is named Cohanzick. After a little bit
of keyboard research, I discovered that the zoo was
named for the Cohanzick tribe of Lenni-Lenape indians
who at one time lived alongside the Cohansey
River in Bridgeton.
It made me wonder — did Charles Whitecar
Miskelly buy the box of typewriter paper from an
office supply company owned by a Lenni-Lenape
family? Did he have connections to the tribe that even
his own family didn’t know about? Printer deadlines
prevented me from digging any deeper, but if there’s
a reprint (a boy can dream), maybe I will be able to
discover more about the story behind the story.
And now, that’s more than enough musing from
me... go ahead and read the story of John McJack.
Here’s chapter one...