1929: New Motherhood in Ooty

In 1929, expat Gladys sent this sweet note on motherhood from Ooty, South India to her mother in Walla Walla, Washington.

Baby in a teddy bear suit.
Photo by Brytny.com on Unsplash

Today, I (Laurie) in 2020 had the delight of Skyping with my daughter and grand-babies. In this modern age of motherhood and grandmotherhood, I can see them instantly. I can even capture video or screenshots of them while we video-chat! My oldest granddaughter, 2 1/2 years old, is so accustomed to this she is mystified when we have a regular phone call. “Grandmama? Grandmama? I can’t see you!”

But nearly a century ago, news from Gladys to her mother about her babies took ages to arrive. Letters and photos traveled via very long, slow steamships from India to America.

She and her husband Ken, a forestry expert from Seattle, were living at Ootacamund Hill Station among British officers (and occasional royalty) during the British Raj era.

Gladys, who loved to write, used sweet prose to describe her newborn:

Braemar, Ootacamund Hill Station

7 May, 1929

Dear Mother and Dad,

I’ve just tucked Pamela, now seven weeks old, in her little bed. She is a fascinating little miss. The last I saw, she had both little hands flying back and forth and she was agoo-ing for all she was worth. Not a whimper when I left and the light went off. Her little bed is alongside ours so I know what she is doing. 

She is getting so plump — little dimples in her elbows and back and one below her little mouth at one corner. The other day, three children came to see her and she cooed and “talked” to them in the cunningest way I’ve ever seen. Babies seem to speak to other children in a language we do not understand.

Pamela as yet refuses to let us know what color her hair is, and whether it is to be straight or curly. Her first hair was brown and decidedly straight. Now her little head is covered with a fine down that at times looks yellow and at other times brown with auburn lights.

She has very keen eyes. When she awakens they just shine and she reminds me of a little bird. Her mouth is an adorable rosebud and she is just finding her tongue and loves making gurgling noises, and then looks so surprised and delighted. She is now placing the direction from which sounds come, like approaching footsteps. Most gratifying of all, she knows me.

The monsoon has come early. We have heavy rain every afternoon and evening. Tonight it simply pelted down. There was some hail in it. 

There are beautiful walks out from Braemar. Now the rain has settled the dust, it is nicer than ever. Sunday home mail brought by the last ship was a tremendous success: I got 11 letters. I scarcely know where to begin answering them.

I am knitting a pull-on teddy bear suit for baby for travel. Pamela sends a kiss to each of her grandparents, and says tell you she will be coming home to you soon for home leave. I also send love and much of it.

Your daughter, Gladys

From Laurie: Isn’t it funny that teddy bear outfits are still considered cute on babies? My own grand-babies have a few sweater hoods with bear ears!

A Naughty Baby Elephant

When elephant Kitty gave birth to the first baby elephant born in Nedangayam lumber camp in S. Malabar India, Kitty’s Baby became a beloved pet to all — until she outgrew her welcome.

Image by Dusan Smetanta

Gladys Gose Pearce, October 1926

Dear Diary,

I was told a story about when logging elephant Kitty gave birth to the first elephant baby born in Nedangayam, to great excitement.

It automatically became “Kitty’s Baby” and was the pet of the camp. The Indian Forest Guards encouraged it to reach its little trunk into their pockets for bites of sugarcane. The old shopkeeper fed it sweetmeats when it favored him with a visit. Kitty was docile and benevolently watched the spoiling of her offspring.

When dry season came and fodder in the vicinity insufficiently sustained the herd, the elephants were moved to greener pastures. When they returned with the rains, Kitty’s Baby had grown enormously but had not forgotten her old friends. She’d again feel in a pocket for sugarcane. But if there was none, a resounding tug tore off the pocket and occasionally part of the coat, to the consternation of the wearer. The friendly tug-of-war games in which many had previously engaged with her now became dangerously unequal.

Worse yet, when she called on the shopkeeper, she had grown too wide for the doorway but went in anyway, taking the door frame and part of the wall with her! The shopkeeper was in a quandary. What should he do? He finally moved his shop to a new location, where he hoped Kitty’s Baby would not find him.

Since then, no one has played with baby elephants.

[Excerpt from Tigers, White Gloves and Cradles, coming soon. Copyright 2020, Laurie Winslow Sargent]

This post is from a collection of diary entrees and letters written in the 1920s by Gladys Gose Pearce, an American expat. Her husband J. Kenneth Pearce (Ken), a logging engineer from Seattle WA, worked in British Raj India for ten years. After a jungle honeymoon touring elephant lumber camps, the couple lived in Ooty, Madras, and the Andaman Islands.

1929: Dearest Funny Baby

Kenneth — 91 years ago — wrote this note to his wife and new child when all were confined to home. He was ill, so couldn’t be in the same room with them. He “mailed” it from one end of their house to the other. Ken and Gladys, Americans, were expats in Ooty, India and their home called Braemar.

Southeast Corner of Braemar
6:25 PM, to Pamela’s Mother
N.E. Corner of Braemar

Dearest Funny Baby,

You know I’d give you anything on earth you wanted, so here’s a letter since you wanted one.

But what can I say? Except that I love you, and you already know that, and besides no letter can tell you that as my lips and arms and all can.

As to what I’m thinking, my mind has been more or less of a blank the last two days. I know you and the baby are getting along alright and that’s the most important thing, and I miss you enough without thinking a lot about you and then missing you more.

The Dr. says there is nothing wrong with my lungs and I’ve had not fever today (only had 99 degrees yesterday, which is nothing for me) so I hope to be OK tomorrow. With acres of kisses and oceans of love,

Your very own, Kenneth

[Excerpt from the historical memoir Tigers, White Gloves and Cradles, coming soon. Copyright 2020, Laurie Winslow Sargent]