AMERICAN VILLAGE, MESSINA. VIEW FROM THE HOTEL. Page 475.
“May 2, 1909.
“The rush has been growing greater every day; it has been impossible to find a minute save in the evening, when I have taken a short walk with Brofferio and gone to bed beaten out, so much so that I slept through one of the worst earthquakes from all accounts. We have had five very severe ones since you were here, two of which succeeded each other within a few minutes and toppled over a whole lot of ruins along the Marina so that it was blocked again for a day or two. I heard a soldier exclaim, ‘Oh, my poor dancing land!’”
“May 25, 1909.
“I am sitting on the sand by the sea, with the wonderful mountains across the straits. There is a delightful breeze blowing. The sea is like sapphire and emerald, and not at all beautiful to look upon, oh no! On the other side of me looms up the roof of the hotel; it’s above the railroad embankment and everything. It is covered in and the clapboards are being put on. Yesterday was Sunday. Brofferio got the loan of a Red Cross auto and we had a magnificent spin,—the captain, Brofferio, Buchanan and I. We went through the torrente for miles. I find that nearly all of them can be used as roads; they are picturesque to a degree. An auto is the greatest thing in the world for seeing the country. Next Sunday, I believe the auto is going to take us to Taormina; if not, Derby and I are going to have a sail with Brofferio, which we should enjoy immensely. All your boys you have sent down here have turned out splendidly. Brush is doing finely at Reggio; I don’t know what we should do without McGoodwin. He came in when everything was decided, and has cheerfully taken up the hardest job in the world, helping to carry out other people’s plans when all the fun of making them is over! Rodolfo Serrao has become quite a pet with every one. He makes wonderful caricatures, and has made them of all the party. I am keeping all I can get to bring back to you.
“The hospital at Regina Elena and all the houses are nearly finished. Here the hotel will be finished as far as we are concerned in a few days, and the church and schools. There are no more houses being put up just now. I wish I could tell you how many houses are inhabited—a great many I know. The workshop opposite the camp that you remember, disappeared long ago and cottages are standing on the site, so we are all shut in and living in a common street called Via Bicknell. There is to be a street named for me which I share with the captain. The captain does things his own way and he says the plan (which I have drawn with all these names) is the record of the thing that will be sent to Washington, but even there it will be looked at once and then thrown aside.”
Extract from Captain Belknap’s Journal, and Letters to the American Ambassador
“With a large increase of the force, and at the same time of the work, especially as the hotel began to assume considerable proportions, this tallying of the workmen took more of the head carpenter’s time than could be spared. Opportunely, Mr. J. Lloyd Derby, Harvard ’08, who had been one of Mr. Roosevelt’s guests in the party visiting Messina, had accepted the invitation to join us. He had first gone back to Rome, with the two chums with whom he had made a trip around the world, and I had almost given him up, when he telegraphed that he was coming and, evidently recalling our previous shift to find accommodation for our guests, should he bring bedding? I replied no, but asked him to call at the Embassy and at the ‘Scorpion’ at Naples, to bring anything they might have to send. The Embassy entrusted him with some cigars and champagne, which was all right; but the ‘Scorpion’ produced fifty thousand lire, which was startling. However, another means of sending the money appeared, and Derby arrived with his other charge safe. He stepped right in as Buchanan’s assistant, taking over Mr. Phillips’ work of tallying the men, and shortly after, as he found time for more, he was made the inspector of kitchens. The shop made him a measuring, or ‘divining’ rod, and he fared forth among the masons, who soon found out that poor workmanship was no match for his muscle.
“We were fortunate in gaining accessions to our managing staff just when it would seem impossible to carry it on longer without more help. The first one was Mr. Gerome Brush, son of the painter, whom we sent to Reggio just as Wilcox was finding more than he could attend to unaided. As interpreter, accountant,