From the June 8, 1951 edition of The Island Beacon.

We Will Never See His Like Again

by Roland Schoolmeester

Last night’s gathering at the Island Society of Affluent Men was unprecedented.

The usual members were there and the usual names — Bonney, Stolarz, Ambriz, Redfern, Caddell, Mariable, Costello, Sugar, and many others were represented in the dark, paneled room reserved for only the most special events. Smoke from Havana cigars hovered overhead, and liquor twirled gently in glasses held by the powerful men who are the quiet — and often not-so-quiet — forces behind the headlines Islanders read in the Beacon.

Roy Bonney, as always, called the proceedings to order, and all present turned towards him and listened to his brief speech. Nothing said in that room can be repeated outside the environs of The Society, so I cannot quote it here, but there is no rule against describing someone’s demeanor. It is possible Roy Bonney sounded a little more uncertain this evening. It is possible his eyes once wandered briefly over the room as if looking for someone who was not there.

And it is certain that as his remarks closed, his voice faltered slightly, and he drew the cloth from the portrait with a smile that was more than a little sad, even as a waiter passed Sazaracs out to the attendees, in preparation for a toast to a man who, for half a century, had been the true face of The Society.

The man who poured the drinks, who hovered quietly in the background, who ensured the malts were single-blended, the brandy at just the right temperature, the Port smooth, the Sazaracs perfect.

The man whose eye was quick to detect the speck of dust on the mantle, the slightly askew tie on a waiter. The man who was quietly acknowledged and respected as Touperdu’s true historian and racounteur, who had at his fingertips facts, incidents, anecdotes and hard facts about great and small players of the Island.

The man who knew the secrets.

Tel Duday, for more than half a century the Steward of the Society for Affluent Men, is no longer with us.

Telesphore Fortune Duday was born on April 1, 1874, in a village somewhere in the Champagne region of France. His actual place of birth was unimportant. “Best forgotten,” he once told me with his gallic shrug. He preferred to date his true nativity from the day in 1880, when he arrived with his family on the shores of Touperdu. Like so many who came over on the Amber Cat, he had a humble pedigree. He also had, even as a boy, a will to succeed that would be the envy of far wealthier and established families.

He began working at The Society in 1888, passing out towels in the steam room.

This was an era early in the Society’s history, when men now considered founders of Touperdu still frequented the halls and meeting rooms of the Society.

People like Abner Pardee, right hand man to the formidable Ellen Reckoner,

The Reverend Dr. Mordecai Street, who so faithfully oversaw the Island’s fledgling library and ensured not just its literacy, but its moral purity.

And Robert Jefferson Abbot, that powerful force for the business interests on the Island, who could both attract profitable businesses to the Island and ensure they remained here.

From the very beginning, even merely passing out towels to such successful pioneers, Telesphore stood out.

and quickly established himself as one who could find what had been otherwise considered either lost or unobtainable. Anyone searching for a hard to find objects,

rare books,

or even just a longed-for introduction,

They soon learned the fastest way to what they wanted was through young Tel.

It was natural that such a talent would not long remain folding towels outside the steam room. Tel was quickly promoted to waiter,

Where he could work in closer proximity to the educated and successful entrepreneurs who were shaping Touperdu society.

He later told me that his true education took place serving drinks in the society lounge and overhearing the conversations of these great men.

It was the eminent banker, Scott Thibodeaux Bonney, who recognized the extent of Tel’s talents

“That Duday boy is a wide-awake lad. He’ll go far,” Bonney is said to commented to my father, who at the time was working in the club kitchen.

“Tel always has something worthwhile to say.”

And it was Bonney’s influence with the board which got Telesphore Duday his appointment — at the age of twenty-five — to what at the time was the relatively minor, uninfluential post of Society Steward.

The rest, as they say, is history. Tel’s amazingly rententive memory, his energy and organizational skills, and above all, his gift for meticulous record-keeping,

soon drastically expanded the responsibilities of club steward. It could truly be said that within a year, nothing could be done or said within the walls of The Society without Tel’s knowledge.

Those who’d had reservations about the increased prominence of the position were soon won over.

And even those very few who remained at heart unconvinced,

soon acknowledged –admittedly with some grumbling–

that Tel’s position was unassailable and a new fact of Island life.

When, just a few years later, Telesphore Duday won the heart of one of our most prominent island beauties, the dashing and irrepressible Felicia Finnegan, there was much talk, but nobody was truly surprised.

Today, it is impossible to imagine either of them ever being married to anybody else.

It is customary in obituaries to list the accomplishments, the milestones in the career of the deceased. The nature of Telesphore Duday’s impressive career and accomplishments makes that dificult. He was, as the bible says, a good and faithful servant,

a man of modesty, discretion and taste, who preferred to act in the background, and considered himself successful only if he remained there.

There are exceptions, of course. His Saint Nicholas at the yearly children’s holiday play has been a Christmas tradition on the Island for decades, and I fear many parents will be hard-pressed this December to explain the absence of that jolly old elf who did magic tricks and could conjure up oranges, peppermints, chocolates, puppies and dolls for children longing for oranges, pepperments, chocolates, puppies and dolls.

During the last war, there was not more active and successful advocate for the effort than Tel Duday. His speeches for war bonds, volunteer work and refugee assistance always got results, and spurred Islanders to greater efforts.

Telesphore Duday after a War effort speech in 1943

Sadly, those of us who knew him believe that war was his undoing. When news reached him of the disappearance of a young relative, a journalist covering the war in Europe, the shock brought on a stroke from which Tel never entirely recovered. He returned to work after an absence of some weeks, his mind intact, but his physical being seriously diminished. From then on, it was plain his health was failing.

Telesphore Duday’s death last Tuesday was sudden, but it came as no surprise to his friends. It was also, I believe apt. As someone who knew Tel as a boyhood friend, who grew up with him, grew old with him, I am certain he died as he would have wished to die, at the Society, enjoying himself.

There have been rumors flying around the Island about my friend’s passing, many of them quite ridiculous and downright scurrilous. Mrs. Telesphore Duday and Leon Duday esq., have given me permission to give my account of it here….

(Nope. Not ’til next week.)