A Chaucer’s Christmas: #2

Interlude

“That was… believable,” I said, sizing the girl who had told the story up and down. I knew from bitter experience that she could pack quite the punch, and as evil as he was, I felt sympathy for the corrupt Agent Flint.

“I told you, it was all true,” she said. “And Moscow didn’t even know how I had saved them.”

“Why did Flint want to destroy them?” someone else asked. “That confuses me.”

The girl shrugged. “I have no idea. All I know is I saved them.” She laughed. “You know, I never did get that internship back. I wonder if he really was under orders. Though if he was, nothing ever happened.”

“Okay, who’s next?” I asked, sipping the hot cup of tea that one of the girls set down next to me.

“I think that would be me,” said the girl sitting next to me. “My story isn’t long, but it is an interesting tidbit.”

Story #2: The Largest Paint Can in the World

Shippensburg, PA, is home to a curious oddity. You can see it from the road as you drive through on Interstate 81 or pull off on get a quick selfie with it on Mt. Rock Road. In fact, it’s rather hard to miss the 35-foot high, fully colored can of paint. Once, it was light blue, with a white, “BENJAMIN MOORE” emblazoned across the top. It’s now black, with a red flower along the side, and says, “Aura” underneath the “Benjamin Moore” heading.

As you can imagine, such a large paint can needs an even larger painter. In the history of the world, only one such painter has ever existed.

Back in 1850, there was born a boy, named Benjamin Moore. He came from the Quaker families of what used to be Penn’s Woods, filled with the same determination and can-do attitude that had made his state one of the key parts of the American Experiment.

His father was a painter, who used the highest quality paints that he could to decorate the houses in Shippensburg.

At 10, the young Benjamin began to follow his father around, assisting in carrying paint or getting some of the harder-to-reach spots. At eleven, though, Benjamin hit his growth spurt – and didn’t stop.

Business began to boom for his father. No longer did the Moore family need a ladder – they had Benjamin. One wall would take just less than half an hour for the quick-paced boy. Once a room or wall was finished, he would sit in the center and blow on the paint to make it dry faster.

One day, this habit got him in a bit of trouble. While waiting, he decided to see how quickly he could dry out the wall. He filled his lungs as full as they could go, the let it rush out of him. Benjamin let out such a massive gust of air that the walls collapsed, and the house fell on top of him. The breeze he loosed was so strong it flew all the way into Philadelphia and shook the Liberty Bell so violently that it cracked.

Of course, Benjamin Moore knew nothing of this. All he knew was that the roof, that was supposed to be over his head, was now on his head. After crawling from the wreckage, he, his father and his brother, Robert, began to build a new house for the family, with their most sincere apologies.

Once done, they weren’t able to get back to painting, as the Civil War had begun, and Benjamin’s father signed up to serve. Benjamin also attempted to enlist but was turned down. “Not only are you too young, lad,” the kindly officer said, “You’re just too large!”

Instead, Benjamin continued to work at home to support his mother. When he was 13, they heard of the massive battle nearby at Gettysburg. As the wounded armies limped away, Benjamin made up his mind, and went with his brother to help clean up the town.

As President Abraham Lincoln came in on a train, and as speeches were given, Benjamin and Robert patched walls and painted over bullet holes. On his way back through, President Lincoln noticed the two boys hard at work. “In all my years,” he said, looking up at the massive Benjamin, “I have never seen someone who is both taller and more hard-working than myself.”

For the rest of the war, Benjamin and Robert worked in this way, helping assist the towns that were devastated by the warfare. All they asked was a meal and a place to stay – which was harder than you might expect when your guest was over 15 feet tall!

Into the late 1860’s, Benjamin continued to grow until he was too tall for any normal house. But, that wasn’t too bad for him. He kept busy. When the White House looked like it was becoming the Grey House, Benjamin came down and painted it in just 48 hours. When Paul Bunyan, the famous lumberjack, needed to paint his house, who did he call? Benjamin Moore.

As Benjamin grew, his need for excellence – and quantity – of paint grew, too, and he began to make his own. He made massive paint cans and carried them with him. With one dip of his brush, he could have enough paint to paint an entire street block. Finally, though, his brother had an idea.

“We should move to New York and set up our own shop! Think about it. With your skill of mixing, we’ll make a profit in no time!”

Eager for the chance to make a name for himself, Benjamin agreed, and the two set up Moore Brothers. Within the year, they were already making a profit. However, they suffered a tragedy when a visitor, shocked at the size of Benjamin, dropped a lantern, igniting the entire building in flames. The firefighters were able to put out the flames, but the building was lost.

In only three days, the brothers had found themselves another building, and were producing and selling paint again. Shortly after their incorporation in 1889, they moved to New Jersey. However, they never forgot their Pennsylvanian roots.

In 1892, while figuring out the proper mixture of their new product, Benjamin remembered how well the clay from their home mixed into paint. Taking just a few days to return home, he dug up enough clay to fill one of his massive paint cans from near his old house in Shippensburg, and returned once again to New Jersey. The crater he left in the ground would later become Big Pond, in what was soon called Cumberland County.

Some say that Benjamin Moore died in New Jersey, and his brother Robert took over the company. Others say he traveled West, to finish painting the hills in Oregon. Wherever he is, however, I know one thing: His paint can still stands in Shippensburg – and until he comes back for it, it will always be a landmark.