Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    
Acclaimed journalist and New Yorker staff writer John Seabrook joins​
Inkwell to discuss his deeply personal and provocative new book,​
"The Spinach King: The Rise and Fall of an American Dynasty."​
Drawing from a trove of family documents inherited after his​
father’s death, Seabrook uncovers the complex, and often dark,​
legacy of Seabrook Farms - his family’s frozen food empire that​
once dominated agriculture in southern New Jersey. The conversation​
explores themes of power, exploitation, family dysfunction,​
capitalism, and historical memory, as John reflects on uncovering​
painful truths, reconciling with his past, and telling the​
long-silenced stories of exploited workers whose labor built his​
family’s fortune.

Publisher's web page for the book:​
<https://wwnorton.com/books/9781324003526>
John Seabrook's website: https://www.johnseabrook.com/
  

    
John, this book is deeply personal - what inspired you to explore​
your family’s legacy in "The Spinach King," and why now?
  

    
Hi Jon. I had planned on writing a fairly conventional history of​
Seabrook Farms without a lot of me in it. But new information kept​
intruding on that plan. When my Dad died in 2009 he left me a bunch​
of papers detailing how awfully my grandfather had treated him. It​
seemed like he was posthumously recruiting me in a revenge plot​
against his father. That was a brain bender that took some time to​
process. Then, in the 2010's, regional newspapers that covered​
Seabrook Farms daily back in the 20' and 30s began appearing on​
newspapers.com and they were searchable. That's where I learned​
about my uncles terrorizing workers with violence during the 1934​
strike. I also discovered the pictures of the strike that the NY​
Post, a pro labor paper in those days,published other pictures in​
the National Archives. I also started drinking too much, partly to​
blunt the pain of these discoveries and eventually ended up in AA.​
Also Rose O'Haiti, who we adopted in 2010, kind of changed the​
trajectory of the narrative so that now I had an ending that wasn't​
just the fall of Seabrook Farms. Once I had all that, and the​
sobriety to manage it, there were still years of drafts trying to​
get the balance of memoir and history right. Where did I belong and​
where didn't I belong in the narrative? There was no way to outline​
that. You had to throw it in the wall and see what sticks. I was​
fortunate to have a brilliant structural editor at Morton, Tom​
Mayer, to advise me and encourage me not to give up. Having a person​
who believes in you is invaluable in getting difficult creative work​
done. 
  

    
Was it challenging to balance your roles as both a journalist and a​
family member when writing about your own history?
  

    
No one really wants a writer sibling or son around who is going to​
write about private matters. I may have been helped because the​
Seabrooks liked being written about by journalists. It was free​
publicity for the brand. My father courted and then married a​
journalist. But they always controlled the narrative. With me the​
fear was they couldn't control what I was going to write. They could​
control other things but not that. But still as the writer in a​
family story you have to draw a whole bunch of lines in the sand. ​
I'll tell this, but I won't tell this. Or I'll wait until they're​
dead. Or I won't put my self into the historical material I wasn't​
there for, I'll only put myself into the stuff I experience. But​
then, do I put myself into when it's about uncle Courtney running​
over the striking worker with a truck. Yes, but to do it I have to​
pull back from the scene to the research I'm doing about the scene​
and say how it felt to learn it for the first time. It's like​
picking your way through a dense wood trying to find a way through.​
Step by step. 
  

    
In researching your own family, did you find a lot of surprises? Or​
did you already know most of it through your own experience and​
family accounts?
  

    
"No one really wants a writer sibling or son around who is going to​
write about private matters."

Your mother in particular. I remember her cautioning you, "Don't​
write about your family," and when you asked why, she was a  bit​
blunt and sharp saying, "Just don't." I think she probably was just​
being motherly protective. 

I'm glad you did write the book. 
  

    
Welcome, John! Fascinating topic!
  

    
Hi David. Been a while. 
  

    
This is in response to what did I learn that I didn’t know in my​
research. The strike was the big one.  My father had never mentioned​
it - even when he was trying to write his speech and I was helping​
him.  I went deep into the rabbit whole of Donald Henderson and his​
wife Eleanor. That my uncles had both been witnessed committing​
these acts of terror on the striking workers. I learned that after​
both of them were dead. The whole strike section is made up of​
information I gathered from the local papers that got digitized and​
put on newspapers.com and from The Nation archives. One of the​
things that kind of kills me is that my Uncle Courtney ran over Mack​
Bradwell with a truck, but Mack continues to me my grandfathers most​
devoted worker. Now I text with his 98 year old daughter Margy who​
has five copies of the book. There’s also the story of the​
Estonian opera singer which I ended up cutting from the book but​
I’m going to dig it out and post it because it really gives you​
the picture of who my grandfather was. 
  

    
You were pretty young when your grandfather, Charles Franklin​
Seabrook, died. So you didn't really get to spend time to get to​
know him while he was alive. How well do you think you know him now,​
after researching and writing the book?
  

    
This conversation with John Seabrook is publicly accessible, meaning​
anyone can read it, whether or not they are a member of the WELL,​
which is the online community platform hosting this two-week​
discussion.

For non-members, here’s a short link for easy access:​
<https://tinyurl.com/spinach-king>.

The full link is:​
<https://people.well.com/conf/inkwell.vue/topics/558/John-Seabrook-The-Spinach-
King-page01.html>.

Both links will take you to the first page of the public​
conversation. If you are not a WELL member, we encourage you to​
visit regularly as the discussion will expand across multiple pages.​
Use the pager (dropdown menus at the top and bottom of the page) to​
navigate through the conversation as it evolves.

Feel free to share these links on social media or with anyone who​
might be interested.

** While non-members cannot post directly, we welcome your comments​
and questions. You can email them to inkwell (at) well.com, and​
we’ll post them here on your behalf. **

If you’d like to participate in more discussions like this,​
consider joining the WELL: <https://www.well.com/join/>. The WELL is​
an online community with vibrant, thoughtful conversations on a wide​
range of topics—an excellent alternative to the fast-paced,​
drive-by posting on social media.

This conversation will continue for at least two weeks, through​
October 6. Thanks for participating!
  

    
Here's a link to a podcast conversation with John about the book:​
<https://youtu.be/G4DWr25u2NM?si=MRr8_S0Ck2tB6o9u> That's a video​
link. Audio is at​
<https://plutopia.io/john-seabrook-the-spinach-king/> or on most​
podcast platforms.
  

    
Thanks for joining us here, John.

Your mother, as you and others here mentioned, did not want you to​
write about your family.  Do you think she knew about some of the​
uglier areas, or was it more a caution from having seen too many​
people surprised by a journalist's take on their experience?  Or​
just a sense of privacy - your dad had such a carefully tailored​
portrait of how he wished himself and the family to be seen - and​
maintaining that?
  

    
The irony is that when my mother met my father, she was a working​
journalist and saw him as material. And he was man who courted​
publicity and saw her as a potential source of it. Even after it​
became clear that he was looking for more than a story, she​
continued to see him more as column than boyfriend material. When​
she goes does to South Jersey for the first time, after getting back​
from the Grace Kelly wedding, she still thinks she's getting a​
column out of this eccentric guy who wears a top hat and spends his​
money in the dumbest way she can imagine. The photograph on the​
cover of the book is taken that day. Anyway so it's somewhat ironic​
that she later took such hard stand against me writing about the​
family. But of course she knew very well by then that the Seabrooks​
weren't all about top hats and champagne -- that there was this​
horrifying man, my grandfather, who she had spent three years around​
before he evicted her from our house. 
  

    
Here's the story of the Estonian opera singer.

Heinrich “Heinz” Riivald was a famous Estonian opera singer who,​
with his wife, Asta, with whom he sometimes performed, were among​
the six hundred Displaced Persons my grandfather sponsored, so that​
they could leave the D.P. camp in Eastern Europe and come to work​
for him in New Jersey. After the Riivalds arrived in Seabrook, where​
Heinz was put to work as a truck driver, they sang in the Estonian​
choir my grandfather’s church in Deerfield.

A few months later, Heinz auditioned for the Philadelphia Opera​
Company, and was offered a contract. But when my grandfather, who​
had donated to the opera company in the past, heard about the offer,​
he threatened to end his patronage. If opera fans wished to hear​
Riivald sing, he said, they could come to Deerfield. The opera​
company withdrew its offer.

Riivald, devastated, pleaded with my grandfather. to reconsider, but​
the old man refused. Instead, he offered to “take care of me,”​
Riivald remembered in a 1963 interview, by paying him one hundred​
dollars a month to sing in church, and giving him a brand-new​
Packard automobile. He also enlisted Riivald as his personal driver,​
and so that he could bring him to society affairs in Philadelphia,​
where, after introducing him as his chauffeur, he would say, “he​
can sing too,” and demand that Riivald perform. 
  

    
So maybe your mother felt he was * her story *, all hers, and no one​
else would have that insight...

Gad, your grandfather ... neff said.


Something I really appreciated about the book was how you limned the​
logistical problems of agriculture then - the original farming​
within reach of the markets via horse and wagon.  And then your​
families innovations - scaling the small farm, changing to​
mechanization, the advent of refrigeration and freezing - set within​
the broader challenges of the industry. Did you just innately know​
that from the family ethos?  Or what sort of research did you get​
into to have such a sweeping picture? 
  

    
I think your grandfather is your most interesting character; your​
dad runs a close second. In the first instance, all C.F.'s workers​
loved him and he sometimes seemed to love them more than his own​
family. Yet, he was not a lovable man. He changed the eating habits​
of a nation (the world?) but was cunning, promiscuous, domineering​
and spiteful. He cheated his own father out of the farm and​
disinherited freely.

I'll get to your Dad later. 
  

    
"Riivald, devastated, pleaded with my grandfather. to reconsider,​
but the old man refused. Instead, he offered to “take care of​
me,” Riivald remembered in a 1963 interview, by paying him one​
hundred dollars a month to sing in church, and giving him a​
brand-new Packard automobile. He also enlisted Riivald as his​
personal driver, and so that he could bring him to society affairs​
in Philadelphia, where, after introducing him as his chauffeur, he​
would say, “he can sing too,” and demand that Riivald perform. "

My heart bleeds for Riivald. 
  

    
John, I'm enjoying your book! Because I was impatient to get to the​
WWII part of it, I dove into Act IV and went to the end. Now I've​
returned to the beginning and looking forward to reading Acts II and​
III. It's an interesting way to read a book that I don't usually​
follow, but it's bringing up some fascinating reflections--maybe​
more to do with your mother than the men of the family.
  

    
I'm not much more than 100 pages in. (Not because I'm not enjoying
reading it, but because of life events getting in the way.)

The photos form an excellent preview.
  

    
Yes, the photo of Jack kneeling in the field inspecting his crop is​
interesting and revealing. Tall, blue-eyed, thin and well-muscled, ​
Princeton '39, etc, he was the anthesis of his father, everything​
his father was not; he seems to have inherited the name but not  the​
character. 

So, it'surprising that your mother turned him down on his first​
proposal. If ever there was a "catch," he would be it, IMO. Dashing,​
stylish, and wealthy,  he moved easily  among the rich and powerful,​
Randolph Churchill, Conrad Hilton, Lord Beaverbrook, etc. In​
deference, Aristotle Onassis even flew the Princeton flag off his​
yacht. Hail fellow, well met indeed.

So, it's rather a shock that as he aged, Jack changed, turned back​
and regressed to walk pretty much the same path as his father. It​
must have been hard to witness this, yes?
  

    
Thanks everybody for these comments and for your attentive reading​
of the book. That's an interesting insight about my mother perhaps​
thinking the Seabrook Farms story was her story to tell. If so, she​
never told it. Her letters, which I only saw after she died, told​
part of it. Kind of heartbreakingly, she busied herself after their​
marriage with writing a history of four-in-hand coaching. Huh? Which​
was never published because in that rarified world only coaching​
experts published and the experts were male. She did write a simple​
but sweet (if doom laden) children's book, Cabbages and Kings, with​
illustrations by Jaime Wyeth.

I think my mother turned him down because her mother convinced her​
he couldn't possibly be on the level, that he was going to recruit​
her into a King Farouk-like harem. As I say in the book, it's​
surprising that she would go boldly into these reporting assignments​
with movie stars and talents like Christian Dior, but was so​
timorous when it came to Philadelphia society. I think her social​
anxiety had a lot to do with her reluctance to get hitched to my​
dad. 
  

    
I'm betting that, when she got into the journalist role, the​
personal, including social anxiety, would drop away for the​
duration. 
  

    
Agree that a person can be a bold journalist and yet timid when
representing only themself.
I'm finding the labor stuff very interesting, partly because my
grandparents were union organizers in those days (and Communinsts).
  

    
Regarding the story of the Estonian opera singer, Riivald, which I​
ended up cutting from the book  because it just seemed a beat too​
much – to me this perfectly captures my grandfather's attitude​
toward his workers, and the Estonian's in particular, whose Teutonic​
looks and, in some cases, Jew hating he was drawn to. He had saved​
them from the DP camps, and if he hadn't sponsored them, perhaps​
they would have been sent back to Soviet-occupied Estonia, where​
their bourgeois western associations might have got them imprisoned​
or disappeared. And as a result, they were his, to do as he pleased​
with. If you can, try to find The Paradox of Seabrook Farms, a film​
by Helga Merits. I will be appearing on a panel with her and members​
of the Seabrook Estonian community, after a screening at​
Northeastern in Boston on October 16th