A Woman of Independent Means (21 page)

We plan to stay here another ten days, through the Labor Day weekend. We are planning a large picnic for the friends we have made this summer. However, as people in this part of the country are not used to socializing (most of them have not set foot in a house other than their own in years), we are not sure how many will accept our invitation. The children are preparing a play to entertain the guests—if there are any. Most of them have had even less experience with plays than they have with parties, so this occasion will be an education for all of us.

We will be arriving in Dallas some time in mid-September. Suddenly I am not afraid of decisions, and I have you to thank. I have spent the summer scrupulously living a day at a time and refusing to face the future, because I could not bear to face it alone. I deeply regret the unhappy circumstances which have placed you in a position comparable to my own, but how grateful I am for the prospect of your company through the long winter ahead.

Kisses from all of us,
Bess

August 29, 1919
Woodstock

Miss Mabel Swift
Town and Country School
2316 Maple Lawn
Dallas, Texas

 

Dear Miss Swift,

My children and I are returning to Dallas this fall, after a two-year stay in St. Louis that was abruptly and tragically terminated by the death of my husband last spring.

I have spent the summer visiting a friend in New England, and my plans for the fall did not become definite until today. I know it is late to be asking you to reserve places for my three children in your fall classes but I trust that in considering this request you will not overlook the outstanding achievements of my two sons during their earlier time with you, and I can assure you that my daughter is in every way their equal.

In the hope that you will understand and allow for the tragic circumstances that prevented me from submitting this application any earlier, I am enclosing a check covering tuition for the first semester. I know only the first month's tuition is required in advance, but I trust the size of my deposit will be adequate proof of my intentions. I will be here for another two weeks and would appreciate a confirming letter from you before our departure.

Specifically, I am requesting space in the first grade for my daughter, Eleanor Elizabeth; in the second grade for my son, Andrew Alcott; and in the fourth grade for my older son, Robert Randolph. I have grown so used to thinking of him as the man of the family this summer, it comes as a shock to realize he is only in the fourth grade. He has assumed his new responsibility with solemn pride, but it will be good for him to be with children his own age again.

I look forward to hearing from you and to renewing our acquaintance, which I remember with great pleasure.

Sincerely,
Bess Alcott Steed

 

SEPTEMBER 1 1919
WOODSTOCK VERMONT

MANNING SHEPHERD
2793 SWISS AVE
DALLAS TEXAS
CHILDREN AND I EN ROUTE TO DALLAS PLEASE DELAY
BANKRUPTCY PROCEEDINGS PENDING MY ARRIVAL I
WILL ASSUME PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY FOR COMPANY
DEFICITS WILL CALL ON ARRIVAL FRIDAY

BESS

 

 

SEPTEMBER 1 1919
WOODSTOCK VERMONT

ARTHUR FINEMAN
MEYERS MILLER AND FINEMAN
PRAETORIAN BUILDING
DALLAS TEXAS
PLEASE SELL ALL STOCK PURCHASED IN MY NAME AND
DEPOSIT PROCEEDS TO MY ACCOUNT AM IN URGENT
NEED OF CASH TO KEEP MIDWESTERN LIFE INSURANCE
COMPANY FROM DECLARING BANKRUPTCY ARRIVING
DALLAS FRIDAY

BESS

 

 

September 10, 1919
Dallas, Texas

Dearest Totsie,

Your long, wonderful letter made me forget for a few minutes our abrupt departure from the farm and even feel part of the Labor Day picnic. The turnout was certainly a tribute to you and the affection in which you are held by our friends and neighbors there. I suspect this is the first time any of them has ever admitted to friendship with one of the “summer people.”

The children talk about the farm as if it were just across the street, but the events of the last ten days have made it seem sadly remote to me. Unfortunately, more than time and distance now separate me from the happiness of summer. Financial distress stands like a grim sentinel forbidding me entrance to the palace of peace and prosperity where I once lived. Russia is not the only scene of revolution these days. My life has been overthrown by the armies of death, and no provisional government seems possible. Every cent I have is committed to saving the company, but I am afraid all my efforts may be in vain.

Support has come from an unexpected source, however. The employees have rallied to the cause, giving up part of their sal-aries for the present in favor of stock options for the future. They announced their decision at a company-wide meeting last week after I made a short speech pledging all my personal assets against the mounting debt faced by the company if it continues to pay off all its claims. Perhaps if I had not just gone through the experience of widowhood, I would not feel so strongly about the responsibility of the company toward its policyholders, but I know too well the terror of being left alone in the world and I am determined that no survivor shall be denied the benefits to which his hard-earned monthly payments have entitled him.

Annie found a charming little house for us and we are all living together quite comfortably. The rooms are small but with no man in the house, privacy is a luxury we can ill afford. Fortunately a large, tree-sheltered vacant lot adjoins the house and I can escape there with a book whenever my desire for solitude threatens my good manners.

I will never be able to express adequately my gratitude to you for sharing your New England summer with four frightened refugees from St. Louis. Beyond the basic provision of food and shelter, you were unstinting in your supply of sympathy and kindness. Already I look back on my summer as an island of unexpected tranquillity in a relentlessly stormy sea. But like an explorer of long ago, I have set my course and I cannot turn back. I cling to my belief that the welcoming shores of a still uncharted continent await me—and sail on.

Je t'embrasse—comme
toujours,
Bess

September 20, 1919
Dallas

Dearest Papa and Mavis,

Though we have still not greeted each other face to face, at least we are all living in the same state again. I hope to bring the children for a visit before the end of the month and hear your “welcome home” with my own ears.

Unfortunately, our return to Dallas has not been a homecoming in the true sense of the word. We have come back to a life very different from the one we left behind when we moved to St. Louis. Not many of our old friends even know I am here and I prefer it that way—at least for now.

I appreciate your offer of financial assistance but am determined to face this crisis as bravely as Rob would have done—and without falling back on friends and family.

Manning is still with the company—though openly opposed to the course I have taken. I suppose he looks at the figures more objectively than I do. To me they represent not only dollars but hours spent by Rob organizing the company and planning for its future. To Manning declaring bankruptcy is a means of erasing debt—to me it is a betrayal of everything Rob was trying to do. Manning and I stand divided on the issue and Mother Steed and Lydia understandably are on his side. They met us at the station when we arrived from Vermont, but it took only one brief conversation to establish our conflict over the fate of the company, and we have not seen them socially since.

The estrangement from their cousin's family and the fact that we are living in an unfamiliar part of town have led the children to believe that we did not move back to Dallas after all. I share their sense of dislocation. Everything is at once familiar yet at the same time strange and different, like a city seen in a dream. I live my days in a nightmare world from which there is no waking—and my nights are even worse. With no routine duties to keep terror at bay, I lie helpless in the dark, wishing only for oblivion.

Somehow I manage to maintain a cheerful façade in front of the children, at least for the hour it takes to get them dressed and ready for school in the morning. I am so grateful I paid their tuition for the first semester in advance. Now I would feel I could not afford it, but fortunately there is no way to reclaim it. And at least at school they have some sense of belonging. If only I had somewhere to go each day where kind people would look after me and tell me what to do. A widow seems to me like some parasitic plant still clinging tenaciously to the limbs of a fallen tree, ignoring the fact that the tree now lies lifeless on the ground.

Forgive me for inflicting my despair on you—but please understand how much better I feel for being able to express it.

All my love,
Bess

September 25, 1919
Dallas

Darling Totsie,

I cannot describe the joy that fills my heart when I see your exquisite penmanship on the outside of an envelope. I am more alive in the presence of a letter from you than in the company of most of the people I encounter in my daily life.

I was amazed to discover that it was as difficult for you to face the responsibilities of fall as it has been for me. Our summer was like an oasis in a desert of never-ending duty. I even had the illusion I had learned to live with grief. But like a clever enemy, it only stayed hidden while I was strong—and waited till I was alone to attack again in full force.

I miss you so much. I have never shared my life so fully with anyone—not even my husband. We would meet in the night like two strangers, having traveled all day from different directions. We seldom knew the joy of watching a whole day unfold in each other's presence, each moment made richer by seeing it through the other's eyes.

Annie and I get along very well but it is hard for her to forget our former relationship. During the day while she is busy around the house she is happy and at ease, but once dinner is over, she seems quite uncomfortable sitting in the living room without anything to do.

It occurred to me we could put this awkward hour to good use if Annie would undertake our instruction in the German language. She was delighted and confessed how much she has missed the solace of her mother tongue—it seems Hans never allowed her to speak German around the house. He felt she should devote herself to improving her English so their children would grow up thinking of themselves as American citizens. Annie obeyed him in this as in everything but on the evenings when Hans was away, as he was more and more in the final months of their marriage, she would sing her children to sleep with German lullabies.

Our first language lesson last night was a great success. Annie could not stop laughing at our struggles with the guttural sounds which come so easily to her. It was good for her to be giving orders for a change, and she would not end the lesson until I had mastered the beginning rules of grammar. I hope, in the course of our instruction, to learn some of her self-discipline along with her language. I would undoubtedly be able to put the former to more immediate use than the latter.