Casey and Dick meet Granny - Hannah Denton

January, 1961

It’s cold and dreary. Casey leans forward in the little car, closer to the heaters as the wipers slap back and forth. She tucks her hands under her slacks and holds her knees together for warmth. In the driver’s seat Dick also leans forward but not, it seems to Casey, for warmth. His hands rest at ten and two. Occasionally he’ll drop his right hand onto the gear shift, though on the Maine Turnpike the only need to shift comes at the tolls. No, Dick leans forward as a skier leans downhill. He’s focused. Dick loves driving and a trip from Boston to Portland is a great chance to exercise the little yellow Triumph. The rain, the icy roads, are just challenges adding to the fun. They pass a car, abandoned at the side of the highway, a layer of road grime evidence that it has been there a while.

Casey breaks the silence.

“Julie and the baby, Nick, went up to see Granny a couple weeks ago.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She told me they got a flat tire somewhere near here.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dick checks his mirrors, the speedometer and tachometer, and then his eyes turn back on the road.

“She said not only did they get a flat but the spare was flat too. She had to sit right there in the car with little Nick until a state trooper came and called a tow truck. Luckily it was sunny so they weren’t too cold.”

“I checked the tires before we left,” Dick says, “Even checked the spare.” He glances at the rearview and then to Casey and smiles. Casey smiles. Dick loves this car.

They ride on for a few minutes. Casey fidgets with the pleats on her pants and she turns back to Dick. He looks sharp in a neatly pressed white shirt, buttoned to the top, and finished with a maroon tie. He’s wearing grey slacks and brown shoes, recently polished for the occasion. Dick’s heavy raincoat sits folded behind the seat. Serious drivers do not wear coats when they drive. Casey opted to keep her coat on for warmth. She’s glad she did. The Triumph is a fun car in the summer but not really built for cold winters.

After several months of dating, Casey decided it was time to introduce Dick to the family. When Casey told her mother that she was going to visit Granny in Portland, her mother chuckled. “You might give him a heads-up about Granny,” her mother had said.

It was no secret that Hannah Denton--Granny--could be tough. She was pleasant and all, but if she didn’t agree with you, she’d let you know. She did not suffer fools. Direct, some called her. In Granny’s defense, raising seven children, six of them boys, required a direct approach. But Casey really wants Granny to approve of her boyfriend. This boyfriend might be the one.

“Um, Dick?” Casey says. “You know, Granny can sometimes come across a little, well, gruff.”

“Yup, you told me. Are you worried she won’t like me?”

“Oh, No. No. Not like that, it’s just, sometimes…” She pauses.

Dick waits.

“Don’t be surprised if she just sort of ends the conversation.”

“What do you mean?” asks Dick.

“Well, I mean, sometimes she’ll just put a napkin or something over her mouth and walk away. Or sometimes she’ll just sort of harumph.”

She turns to Dick, tries to read his expression. She can’t tell if he’s concentrating on the road or formulating a response. He chews his lip.

It’ll be fine, She decides. She adjusts the coat around her and folds her hands on her lap. They drive on, wipers slapping, slapping.

Granny lives at the Lafayette Hotel. When she was younger, she told her daughter Georgina: “When I get older, if I ask to live with you, tell me ‘No.’” So, when the day arrived to make a decision about where Granny was going to live her daughter, Casey’s mother held her to her word. Now she lives very happily in Portland, having recently moved from Boston where she lived for a time at the Puritan Hotel and later the Somerset on Commonwealth Avenue. She has the means. She’s happy. It works.

Casey and Dick arrive, park the car on the street, and make their way through the rain along slushy sidewalks to the front door and into the lobby. Approaching the front desk, Dick checks his tie in a mirror. In the elevator to Hannah’s room, he checks another mirror, smoothing his hair. Casey smiles.

“Don’t be nervous,” she says. But in truth, she’s nervous too.

They knock on the door.

“Come in.” calls a faint voice from the other side of the door.

Dick turns the knob but the door is locked.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” they hear from the other side of the door. After a moment the bolt turns and the door opens. A small woman in her nineties, wearing a grey wool dress, greets them.

“Casey, well, how are you my dear?” She gives Casey a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Come in. Come in.”

“Granny, I’d like to …”

But Granny turns and shuffles away from them and across a small living room. Casey walks with Granny into the room and Dick enters but stands just inside the door’s threshold. Casey follows Granny to a small chair where Granny sits.

“Sit, sit, my dear. How was your drive? Dreadful weather. Miserable.”

“Granny, I’d like you to meet my friend, Dick. Dick Clark.”

Granny turns to Dick who remains standing at the doorway, hands folded before him. She sizes him up and then says “Well for heaven’s sake, young man, take your coat off. Come in. You’re dripping onto the rug.”

Dick smiles, hangs his coat, and sits in a chair forming the third corner of a social triangle. Granny turns to Casey, asks about school. Casey tells Granny about classes. Granny tells her about Julie and the baby’s visit. As they chat, Dick sits quietly, noticing the family pictures Granny has set out and hung in the room and the books she’s put on the shelves. He hears Casey telling Granny how she came to meet Dick. Granny turns to Dick, who sits at the front of his chair. Hands on his knees. Feet flat.

“Young man,” she says. “Where did you say you were from?”

“Winchester.”

“You’ll have to speak up. Where did you say you were from?”

Dick leans forward, clears his throat.

“Winchester. Winchester, Massachusetts”

Granny stares at him. “Winchester.” She repeats. “Winchester. I am not sure that anyone who was anyone ever came from Winchester.”

Casey turns to Dick, whose face flushes with embarrassment. He fusses nervously with a fold in his pants.

“I only know one person who was anybody who was from Winchester. His name was James Nowell. He tutored one of the boys when they were in school. Not sure which one. Might have been Kay. Nicest man there is. James Nowell. Such a nice man.”

Casey turns to Dick who seems to be at a loss for words.

“Did you say James Nowell?” he finally asks.

“Yes, James Nowell. Nicest man. The only person of substance I’ve even known from Winchester, Massachusetts. James Nowell.”

Dick smiles as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “James Nowell is my grandfather,” he says. He turns to Casey and then to Granny.

Casey looks to Granny and then to Dick and then to Granny.

Granny claps. “Well, isn’t that marvelous. James Nowell’s grandson. Just marvelous!”

Driving back to Boston, Dick sits a little more relaxed. He turns on the radio, and though the reception is poor in that no-man’s stretch of southern Maine, he taps his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. He whistles to himself. The roads are dry. Casey, too, sits a little farther back in the seat and smiles to herself.

Dick drops Casey off at her Cambridge dormitory and heads back to Belmont to meet his roommate Roly, maybe to watch the Celtics game. Red Auerbach has the team on a tear, and with Bill Russell, Bob Cousy, and KC Jones, the team is unstoppable. Casey heads upstairs and calls her mother to report on the visit but her mother beats her to the big news.

“Yes, Casey, Granny already called and told me. James Nowell. Nicest man she’s ever met. Looks like Dick will be just fine”.