A Word Edgewise |
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A Word Edgewise |
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Last Updated 01/20/06
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Shipping Chickens to Russisa No Easy Task
On the back of the 1940 Fitzgerald’s Nursery Catalogue is an advertisement for baby chicks, guaranteed to be Texas U.S. Certified Pulloram Tested White Leghorns. It appears that dad had a connection with Mr. Demke, owner of a local hatchery, for the chicks which would be sent postage prepaid. Total cost was 25 chicks for $2.45. Dad said in the advertisement, “I guarantee 100% live delivery of chicks as represented.” Now that took faith in self, the hatchery, and the mail delivery, to say nothing of happenstances in between. Shipping of live chicks seemed common in those days and rather simple to do.Marjorie Dow Johnson found it to be anything but simple when she tried to deliver eight hens and two roosters to Russia in 1927.
Marjorie Johnson was a vocational teacher in Madison, Wisconsin, for many years In 1926 she began planning a summer trip to Europe and since she had read interesting things about Russia, she decided to include a trip there. When she told her family and friends what she planned to do they said, “But you can’t. America doesn’t recognize Russia. How do you expect to get in or get out?” She didn’t know how, but was determined to visit Russia, so she began writing letters, first to The Foreign Affairs Department, Moscow, Russia. Months went by with no response. Finally in May she was called out of class for a phone call. Since being called out of class was unheard of, she anxiously rushed to the phone. It was a cablegram from Moscow saying, “Your visa awaits you in Berlin.”
About the middle of May, she was again called out for a cablegram. It said, “Bring eight hens, two roosters. Best standard leghorns urgently needed. Donehakoff, Timiryazev Agricultural Institute.
“It must be a code,” said the school supervisor.
But Marjorie thought not. She thought, “No chickens, no travel.” So she began telephoning. American Express said no, they did not ship to Russia. Wisconsin Department of Agriculture was no help. She was reminded of an ex-student who was in the chicken business. Help at last. He said that he had standard leghorns, and explained that they were a tougher, pedigreed, biggest egg-laying capacity of any hen type chicken. They sold for $10 a piece instead of the common kind for $3.
Feeling as if she were taking advantage of Howard King, the chicken man, Ms. Johnson said, “Well, if I pay you $100 for eight hens and a rooster, you will deliver them won’t you?”
“Sure,” agreed Howard. “Just say where to.”
Seems Howard was up to the task. After studying the situation he advised her to take them as extra luggage—but they couldn’t fly. The hens would arrive dead. Howard found a trading company that did ship things from New York to Russia—but not people. She and the chickens would have to go separate routes. Tying up all the red tape, including who would pay for shipment, who would accept the birds when they arrived, exact time of arrival for receiver and the chickens. Finally, the shippers agreed. “It will cost you five dollars apiece to ship the chickens, ten dollars for a hen coop, ten dollars for the man who waters them, ten for the space the coop takes up on the boat, and you must pay in advance.” She paid. Then she had to insure them, but where. Lloyds of London, saying it was a little unusual, did insure them.
Marjorie took the plane. When in Berlin she inquired about the chickens and left early for Leningrad, arriving one day ahead of chickens. The docks in Russia were part of the military and not even ordinary Russians, much less foreigners, were allowed on them. After much talking, presenting many documents, she finally showed the insurance papers. That did the trick. They let her on dock to receive the chickens. It took more explaining and arguing to get on her way to Moscow. The hens had laid eggs all the way across making the ship crew in favor of taking them on all trips. The shipment was so important because Russia had two disastrous droughts and all the crops and livestock of the entire Samara district had been wiped out along with many of the people. Marjorie Dow Johnson was a life savor.
Well, shipping chickens from an Erath County hatchery was not a life saving operation, but dad took the responsibility seriously, as he did shipping good trees, true to named variety, all over the country. He also traded with a company in Italy and in Japan—but shipped them no baby chicks.