My Efforts To Communicate With Finley and Martha Clarke

The first 13 postings on this blog are based on a 13 slide PowerPoint Presentation, which I had put together back around the year 2002.

All of the blog posts on this web site explain a lot about my transformation as a kid, who was mostly a Rock n’ Roll, Blues, and Rhythm n' Blues fan, from the suburbs of Baltimore, who became a Maine Bear Hunting Guide. They also tell exactly how I was treated by my Aunt Martha and Uncle Finley K. Clarke, who owned the hunting lodge where I worked as a Registered Maine Guide, Katahdin Lodge and Camps, in Patten, Maine. The important thing here is that I sent my Aunt Marty and Uncle Finley a printout of the PowerPoint Presentation, but they never responded.

Most of the photos on this web site are from that PowerPoint Presentation, but I have rewritten and added text to the slides, which are now the individual blog posts on here. Though I have rewritten it to a small degree, the basic information and message was already in them when they were sent out as printouts to my aunt and uncle up in Maine and also to a whole bunch of people who live in and around the area of Patten, Maine.

But first I had sent them all--Fin and Marty and many Patten Maine residents--copies of several stories about that time in Maine which I had written first. They are The House Fire, The Day That I Fell In Love With Patten Maine, and The Rocket Scientist. Those are three tales that I thought would remind them of exactly what I had done up there as teenage kid from Dundalk, Maryland and a bear hunting guide and how the history of it truly was. As opposed to my aunt and uncle’s twisted, self serving, self righteous version of how it was, which I have had to try to live with ever since the 1970s. If you haven’t read any of my short stories yet, read some of them to see what I’m talking about.

A year or two after writing my first stories about my Maine adventures and sending them to Fin and Marty, I wrote Then They Own You (published on The Daily Me as Katahdin Lodge 1979) and then sent a copy of that story to them, and to a bunch of Patten Mainers too. That story tells how my relationship with Fin and Marty came to a near murderous halt.

Because of Fin and Marty's refusal to face the facts and admit the truths in my written works about my times with them as their nephew and hard working employee, I do not know whether or not that they ever opened any of those mailed stories to them. But by me sending out all of those copies of all of those written works to the local Patten, Maine area barber shops, beauty parlors, the delicatessen, pizza shop, a bunch of post office box numbers in the Patten Post Office, to various hunting lodges, and also to several of the people who are featured in my stories or to their family members - by doing that I made certain that Fin and Marty would be asked about my written work and how true it is by any number of people whom they could easily come in contact with up there in their part of Maine. I made it so that Fin or Marty could not even go to the bank or grocery store without the possibility of having someone ask them about their lies, deceit, and abusive history of me, and asking them two about my claim that they owe me a lot of money.

Sometime back then, I made a phone call to my Uncle Finley and Aunt Martha. My Aunt Martha answered the phone, I told her it was me and she hung right up. There was no use trying to speak with them on the phone again.

In November of 2001, I began to send a series of postcards to my Uncle Finley and Aunt Martha.

In 1977, at Katahdin Lodge, I had witnessed my Uncle Finley angrily grabbing a handful of mail, that was addressed to him, he grabbed it out of his wife Martha's hand and threw it right into the trash can. He had no idea who any of it was from. He simply did not want to deal with any of it. That type of angry outburst is a true symptom of the Korean War induced PTSD that Finley suffered, severely, from.

So you see, not only was it extremely unlikely that either Fin or Marty would open up any mail I sent them, due to their refusal to face the facts and admit the truths in my written works about my times with them as their nephew and dedicated employee, Finley would not always open up any regular mail sent to him in envelopes. Consequently, I began to send them postcards.

Copy Of First Postcard Sent On Nov. 15 or 16, 2001

I put my return address on this first postcard, so that it could be sent back to me if it didn’t go through. I sent it expecting that either Fin and Marty still lived at Katahdin Lodge and Camps and still used their old post office box, or the card would be forwarded to them, or it would be returned to me with their forwarding address on it. It must have been forwarded to them, because I never got it back.

It says: You may believe that it was a privilege for me to work a minimum of 9 hours a day 6 days a week for you at Katahdin Lodge—driving thousands of miles over rough roads at high speeds—taking inexperienced bear hunters out into the vast north woods and helping them have an enjoyable and rewarding outdoors adventure without getting anyone shot - and not getting in trouble with the local folks which would have caused you great difficulty in your business. So here is my bill for services rendered: $7,000 for 1968-69 + $2,000 for 1977 + $350.00 bear bonus for 1979. Plus interest. Any amount over $10,000 will settle your account with me. David

The Next Postcard Was Sent On Nov. 28, 2001

This postcard was returned to me. But the Smyrna Mills postal workers surely knew where Fin and Marty had moved to, or they could have found out, because Fin and Marty hadn’t moved too far from the lodge - and the first card did go through. They had moved to 21 Bald Eagle Lane on Shin Pond in Mt. Chase, Maine, which is about 25-30 miles by road from Katahdin Lodge, but up there in the sparsely populated woods of Northern Maine, it’s almost in the same neighborhood.

The way that I figure it is, Fin and/or Marty had made a nasty phone call or visit to the Smyrna Mills Post Office and had bullied them into sending this card back to me with the "Moved, left no address" stamped on this one. Those two self righteous, arrogant, ignorant individuals - my aunt and uncle - could ruin anyone’s day, if they wanted to. I’ve seen it happen to others besides me - and it always turned my stomach. I am sure that a bad, sickening scene was made over my postcards - at the Smyrna Mills Post Office.

It says: When you did not acknowledge my father’s death I felt it within reason to want to slam my fist into your face a few times. He was your friend. (Finley’s brother Nelson had called and left a message on Fin and Marty's answering machine informing of my father's death.)

Not responding to my phone call informing you of my mother’s death was a sad thing for you to do (I had to leave a message on their answering machine). I believe that you did grieve over your sister’s death, privately. Had you come to her funeral I would have allowed you to came and go in peace.

She was your protection. I could not fully pursue my claims against you without causing her to retreat from reality further than she had.

I will continue this quest for good old truth and justice indefinitely. David


I knew that my aunt and uncle would be very angry at me for sending those postcards. They deserved to be dealt with this way. They had angered me to no end, and had hurt and damaged our family more than I had ever imagined anyone could.

I was doing my best to make them so angry that they had to 'come out and fight', and either bring some kind of legal charges or lawsuit against me, or maybe one or both of them would come down here to my home and knock on my door. It may have gotten me shot, but it was well worth the risk. I had no money to go to Maine and bring a lawsuit against them, or to simply knock on their door and demand my money. And that really could have gotten me murdered.

My entire adult life has been lived well below the poverty line. My severe, debilitating depression has been horrendous, and it was partially caused by the way that Fin and Marty did me so much grievous wrong. I have never been in a financially healthy enough - or any other kind of healthy enough - condition to go to Maine for the purpose of pursuing a legal claim for reasonable compensation for all that Finley and Martha Clarke owe to me.


The following scanned in image is the back of a homemade postcard that had the above photo, of me wood splitting at Katahdin Lodge, on the front of the handmade postcard. Unfortunately, before I found out Fin and Marty's new address, I sent this one to the old Smyrna Mills address, even though I knew that it may not ever make it to Fin and Marty. And I left my return address off this one, because I figured that this would give the Smyrna Mills postal workers something talk about, and maybe some gossip about these postcards would reach Fin and Marty. They probably had gotten the first one, but they had been in their new address long enough not to need their forwarding address on file at the Smyrna Mills Post Office. Or maybe Fin and Marty had convinced the Smyrna Mills Post Office personnel not to allow anymore of my postcards or other mail to them to be forwarded.

Later on, I found out what Fin and Marty’s new address is, and I sent another version of this homemade postcard to them at 21 Bald Eagle Lane.

It Says: Remember this? I worked on that woodpile of yours for a minimum of 9 hours a day for 10 days. Plus I had several hours of other things to do at your lodge each day, including going out to track wounded bears. And you never had one good thing to say about any of it.

I was proud to be able to split the better part of 19 cords of wood in 2 weeks. I still love to split wood but I deserve a fair wage for doing it.

GIVE ME MY MONEY!

David

A Postcard Sent On July 16, 2002:

This is a scanned, copy machine copy of a postcard that I sent to Fin and Marty on 7/16/02. I sent them this one postcard, than weeks later sent them over twenty handwritten postcards that all said "YOU OWE ME $27,5OO.15." I sent fifteen of these particular handwritten postcards at one time, so they had to see and read something off of them before the cards went into the trash. I never heard from them about it.



If I am not owed anything by them than why did those two not pursue legal action against me to stop my postcards and stories from coming up there and to defend their good names?

Because they are guilty of all that I say in my stories, on my Internet sites, and said on those postcards.

Now it is just Marty who is alive for me to pursue to get my back pay. She is the one who was the main architect of their cheating me out of my pay anyway. If she was a fair minded person she would have paid me even if Fin had been against it. She didn’t always pay any of Fin’s hunting guides all that we had earned nor all that was promised to us guides by my uncle. I have been told by several reliable sources that Finley’s favorite hunting guide, John Birmingham, had quit because of that; but John is still like the son Fin and Marty never had. If she would not pay us when Fin said to, then she could have paid us when he said not too, because she handled the payroll and the Lodge’s bookkeeping ledgers. Not only that, beginning in the early 1970s, she wouldn’t even let Fin see the friggin’ ledgers.

Unfortunately, for me and my side of the family, Marty has worked things out financially so that she got all that Fin worked for, till she dies, and then somehow she has it so that no one in Finley Clarke’s family gets a thing. No money, no property in Maine, no old photographs of Fin’s, no guns, no hunting knives, no hunting trophies, none of Fin’s personal effects at all, including his war medals. My family gets nothing to remember him by and to share with our offspring and younger relatives who are direct blood relations to this interesting man who was a war hero and a famous Maine Guide.

I believe that John Birmingham and the other people who were Fin and Marty’s long time friends deserve to receive something from the estate when Marty dies. Martha’s family deserves their fair share. I simply want what I earned right now, and also what is fair from the estate for me and my side of the family. Finley became a war hero during the Korean War, which was a long time before he knew anyone in Maine, and I doubt that anyone on Martha’s side of the family feels that they deserve to inherit his military stuff. I believe that Martha Clarke should at least let my family have Finley’s medals and most of his military memorabilia.

But she needs to pay me the money and the respect which I earned while working for her right now!

I was a Registered Maine Guide who tracked wounded bears at night without a gun for the financial gain of her business, after a day of dealing with stenchin’ bear bait and helping paying bear hunters to satisfy their natural needs for a good, safe time in the great outdoors. What more could a person do to earn honest money and the respect that is due to them?

I sent about a dozen more different postcards, than what you see on this web site, to those two self centered, selfish relatives of mine. I told them just what the truth is. I had scanned copies of those cards into my computer, but the computer hard drive that they were on fried and died on me.

Those cards said things like "You are liars and thieves."


If you want Martha Clarke’s opinion on me, those postcards, or my stories and Internet publishings about her and her deceased husband, here’s her phone number and full address:

Martha Clarke
21 Bald Eagle Lane
Mt. Chase, Maine 04765

Ph. 207-528-2131

Feel free to contact her concerning anything on my web sites or in my short stories about My Northern Maine Adventures.

David Robert Crews
2727 Liberty Pkwy
Dundalk, Maryland 21222
ursusdave at yahoo dot com


Due to the facts that: several years ago I sent printed copies of all of my Maine stories to my Aunt Martha and Uncle Finley and also to many local Patten area Mainers; and later on I emailed the stories to many folks all over the State of Maine; and then when my stories were published on the Internet I emailed and sent postcards to my aunt and uncle and also to many Patten area Mainers to inform them where my stories were published; some one or more of all of those Maine folks whom I contacted had to run into Fin or Marty now and then, here and there, and must have asked my aunt and uncle about me and the stories that I wrote. Due to those facts they have all had enough time to read and then deny or confirm any truths in them. So far, they haven’t declared to me, or my editors who publish my stories, or anyone else whom I am aware of that any of my stories are complete fictions from my imagination.

Here is a guide to those short stories:

The House Fire is a nice, but scary one (it scarred me when it happened that’s for sure). This one is for people of all ages.

The Day I Fell In Love With Patten Maine ain’t nuthin’ like you will expect, and it is a mind blower. It’s a real, small town, soap opera scene, and a teenagers’ thrill-a-minute experience.

The Rocket Scientist is a crazy trip about a genuine Washington, DC Rocket Scientist. I’ll let ya' be surprised by this one.

Bananastien is about young adults testing the limits in 1969 Patten, Me. Part of it gets real wild on the backroads.

Jungle Dirt is something that stands on its own. It was my first attempt at heavily fictionalizing a true story. It is about a Vietnam Veteran’s experience when he went bear hunting in Maine three days after coming home from Nam. It is a good story for all of us Vietnam Era Veterans and others who care about us, and how we were treated in America during the Vietnam War. Just about the only fictional parts have to do with changing the names and me making up some descriptive guesses about the Nam Vet’s mother and a small amount was expanded on to the guy’s step father’s description. Boss Hog on the Dukes of Hazard did look exactly like the step father though.

Easiest Way To Carry A Dead Bear is a nutty piece, but it does give a good hunting tip.

An Italian Nice Guy is a bear hunting story that is really a chipmunk story. It is actually good for kids to read. No bears are even shot at in it. It is fictionalized a bit, but mostly true. I expanded on what I knew about Tony (the Italian nice guy) and his family, but they had to be real nice people. Since publishing this story, I have exchanged some emails with Tony's family - Tony has passed away - and they told me to leave the story be just like it is, when I asked if they wanted me to change anything. They said they had great laughs over their memories of the event at every family holiday get together.

My VW Bug Trip To Maine has a bear hunting bit in it, but it’s a hoot, and the rest of it is a wild, funny and happy story. It was about a trip of mine to Maine while I was on leave from the Army just after I had graduated US Army Photo Lab Tech School, and before I went to Okinawa. It goes from Patten, Me. down to Dundalk, Md. and through a whole bunch of interesting experiences.

Driving Northern Mainer Style is a how-to article with a great story in it about the time I nearly 'bought the farm' on a sharp curve way up on the Washburn Road. A road that leads into Caribou, Maine.

Then They Own You (titled "Katahdin Lodge 1979" on The Daily Me) takes place in 1979, when I tried to work for my aunt and uncle in Maine one more time - at their request. They simply had no appreciation for anything that I did for them. They wanted me to work my entire life for them at Katahdin Lodge without receiving a salary and while they seriously mistreated me. I did have some great times at Katahdin Lodge, but it wasn’t worth the emotional abuse that they heaped on me. Neither my Uncle Finley nor Aunt Martha ever said one good word about the work that I did for them. To this day, they refuse to acknowledge what I did up there, when this suburbanite kid went way up into the North Woods of Maine and became a bear hunting guide who never made one serious mistake while living and working there.


Copyright 2006 David Robert Crews

ursusdave
Patten Maine
Katahdin Lodge
David Robert Crews