During the previous several months, only one new document turned up—the official applications to the University of Melbourne of the three Bradshaw children when they turned seventeen: Irina in 1918, Kyle in 1920, and Margaret in 1923. No other records of their scholastic achievements or even if they finished college were available. Marriage certificates were found for Irina who married an attorney, Donald Wadsworth Tufts, in 1923, and Kyle, who married Miranda Rebecca O’Toole, in 1929. Apparently, Margaret remained a spinster. No other documents could be found for Alexandra’s children or any of their issue.
Australia, Victoria, and Melbourne have a rich educational heritage. There are seven Melbourne-based universities, fifty-one different campuses in the state, with thirty-four of them in Greater Melbourne. The University of Melbourne was founded in 1853, the first university in Victoria; and it is the second oldest in Australia. Fortunately for education in Victoria, the inauguration of the university was made possible by the wealth resulting from Victoria’s gold rush and paid for prior to the great gold and land busts. It’s main campus was located in Parkville, a close suburb just north of the Melbourne central business district. Several other campuses were later located across Victoria. Fortunately for Melbourne and the State of Victoria, the decision to create a first-class university resulted in it being a civilizing influence during the hectic years of “Marvelous Melbourne” and the doldrums of the bust when poverty and crime were rampant enough to change the city’s nickname to “Smellbourne”. One of its most significant accomplishments was to begin the admission of women in 1881.
The senior missionaries’ quest for further information seemed likely to end with this set of findings. Her husband, Kyle Dewit Herman Bradshaw, filed for probate in 1931, presuming that she died in 1921, although there was no documentary evidence of that presumed event ever found by the probate court or the zealous missionaries.
CHAPTER SIXTY
FINANCIAL CONFLICTS
Sometimes I have so many financial conflicts of interest that I can’t even keep them straight.
—Michael Arrington
Green is not a financial issue; it is a heart issue.
—Andy Stanley
Number 1-8, Collins Street, Victoria State, Melbourne, Commonwealth of Australia, April 4, 1912
Alexandra pondered what she had seen, heard, and learned about the Mormon church and what it meant for her and her life. It was nothing like her religious upbringing, except that the Russian Orthodox and the Mormon Church were both Christian. The meager meeting place in the basement of the Duke of Wellington Hotel with its stench of urine, beer, and cigar smoke, and its lack of gold or crucifixes compared poorly with the grand chapels [“the arks of salvation”] of the Orthodox Church. The education of the lay priesthood of the Mormons compared unfavorably with the highly educated Orthodox priests and their long history. The roll of women and the institution of plural marriage was troublesome, to say the least; but, the comparison of the role of women came out in favor of the Mormons even with polygamy.
She was interested enough–Alexandra admitted to herself–to have accelerated the rate at which she was meeting with the young missionaries and receiving their lessons. In a little over a week, she had been given the first four lessons: The Joseph Smith story, the Book of Mormon, the Plan of Salvation, and the Restoration of the Priesthood. It all made common sense and was enticing if she could get over the unpleasant room that passed for a chapel. There were thirty-two more lessons to go…what more could there be to this new and very different American religion? More to the point, was she going to make a major life’s change and follow this modern-day prophet in America? What would her friends, her family, and her old Russian priests think? What would they all advise her to do?
Kyle was patient up to a point. He had already given in to her obsession with making money at the expense of her family. That was the real reason why she demanded that the children be sent away to boarding schools. Now, she was tinkering with this new religion being sold to her by a couple of young boys. Everyone he talked to referred to the Mormon church as a cult. Her concentration on it was beginning to concern him and had him asking himself if that church would inveigle her to run away to America and to leave him.
He looked into his and Alexandra’s financial holdings in detail. The two shared one major account which could be accessed by either of them up to one-half of the total value. After that, both partners—spouses–had to sign to remove any more money. He had two accounts from which only he could withdraw funds—the total value of liquid funds was $220 million AUD. Alexandra had four accounts that he could identify with a total value in liquid funds was $700 million AUD, making her one of the richest women in the world. They shared one real estate account holding deeds valued at $200 million AUD, but that was subject to the fluctuations of the real estate market and the demand for the properties. Each of them had another account holding a mix of gold bullion, real estate deeds, stocks and bonds, which were held in two separate safety deposit boxes for each of them. Only the named owner could access those boxes. The value of his was about $100 million AUD total, and hers was almost $300 million. They had two life insurance policies with each other as owner and as beneficiary in the amount of $2 million AUD. None of the accounts had had any significant funds withdrawn in the recent past, and none of them had had withdrawals of which he was unaware. His concerns about Alexandra running off to America to be part of the westward migration of the Mormons seemed to be unfounded, and he relaxed his guard partially.
Kyle began to think that his attitude towards Alexandra’s flirtation with the Mormon church and her obsession with money was at least in part responsible for what he saw as a growing rift between them. He knew that his and Alexandra’s relationship was complicated, more than other couples, he believed. He was determined to keep them together and set out that very evening to begin mending fences.
“How about havin’ a night out at the flicks, Luv?” he asked during dinner.
Alexandra was surprised at the attention to her that his question suggested and thought it was a good thing.
“What’s playing, Kyle?”
“There’s an interesting new kind of flicker going at the Pacific Cinema at Bulahdelah, New South Wales called Moora Neya, or The Message of the Spear. It tells about the abos. I heard it’s pretty interesting.”
“We’re not supposed to call them that. Now they’re Indigenous Australians. And, yes, I’d like to see it. Anything so long as it’s not The Story of the Kelly Gang. I’ve seen that at least a dozen times.”
“We’re supposed to get some films in from America, but none of them are around here yet. I checked.”
“So, we’re off to the countryside for a small-town entertainment fare. Sounds like fun,” Alexandra said and flashed her husband her man-reducing smile.
“That’s a good start,” he said to himself.
Three days of travel on mostly dirt roads brought them to Bukahdelah. The name of the town derives from the language of the Worimi Aborigines who occupied the area before white settlement began. It means ‘meeting place of two rivers’. In Buklahdelah, they discovered that the film would not be shown at the quaint little theater until seven in the evening which left them three hours to kill. They did a little mooching around the lake area which was pretty. Then, they asked at the local bank where a good restaurant could be found in the village.
“G’day folks. Yer in luck,” said the bored teller, “there’s a pretty up-side little place behind the church. Can’t miss it. Ye can git bumps and grinds or snags anytime. Tradies all swear by it—that’s a good recommendation right there.”
“Is the restaurant on the big end of town?” Kyle asked with a joking smile.
“Bettern a ham sandwich,” the elderly officious little man answered, meaning that it was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick or a dog’s breakfast.
Taking note of the doubt on Alexandra’s face, the teller gave a small shrug and a smile
and said to her, “No worries, mate, she’ll be right. It’s called the Buklahdelah Fine Eatery. Yu’ll like it.”
Alexandra was hungry enough to settle for the eggs and coffee and the sausages the teller said were always available.
The restaurant was nicer than either Alexandra or Kyle expected; not exactly “the big end of town” but recently painted and clean. The signs had been made professionally, and the tables and chairs looked new. They asked for menus and were pleasantly surprised to see a well designed and printed bill of fare and that there was a fairly large selection of appetizers and entrees.
The waitress–also the owner and cook–gave them a few minutes then returned asked “What would yous like?”
Alexandra was undecided; so, she said, “Get his order first, please.”
Kyle ordered breaded veal with fresh vegetables and mashers with a Castlemaine Ale.
The waitress wrote down his order.
“And fer you, M’am?”
“I’d like to have the fried chicken, some veggies, brown bread, and a Cab Sav.”
The waitress wrote down her order, then paused for a moment to study what she had written.
“Sorry, Sir,” she told Kyle. “Cook says we’re outta veal.”
“All right, I’ll have the chicken, too.”
Another pause.
“Mustta slipped ma mind. The shipment of chicken isn’t gonna get here till tomorrow.”
“How about the meat loaf?” he asked.
“I’ll settle for a plate of your special John Dory. Is it good?” Alexandra tried.
“Yeah, its good…when we have it.”
“Let me guess, you don’t have it today?”
“’Fraid that’s right, Ma’m.
“So…I’ll have the meat loaf, too and lots of ketchup. And I still want a bottle of Cab Sav.”
“Uh, I’ll have to check on the meatloaf…be back in a jiffy.”
She was gone for nearly five minutes. Kyle was holding back laughter.
“What’s funny, Kyle? I’m hungry.”
“Me too. I’ll bet you a twoonie that it’s ixnay on the meatloaf as well as the rest. You on?”
“No, I think you are going to win that bet.”
Sure enough, the waitress returned with a negative expression on her tired face.
“Sorry, Mates. Outta meat loaf and Cab Sav, too.”
Kyle could not hold back any longer. He started to laugh, a belly jarring guffaw.
“So, what do you suggest, Mate?” he asked the waitress.
“Why’nt yous have the bumps and grinds and the snags. They’re real good. Aye also recommend our apple pie for dessert. I’ll bring yous a coupla bottles a Victoria Aitken’s bitters to wash it all down.”
“Is the pie ala mode?” asked Kyle.
“Nope. Ice cream won’t git here ‘til next week.”
Now, Alexandra began to laugh. So hard that tears streamed down her face. After such a good laugh, she could enjoy sunnyside up eggs, coffee, pie, and bitter beer. She decided that she was not really in the mood for chicken, meatloaf, fish, Cabernet Sauvignon, or ice cream anyway.
The Pacific Cinema in Buklahdelah was fairly delapidated and could have used a new coat of whitewash. It had a flat storefront façade with a single door. Behind the rectangular face of the building was a long box of a building covered with corrugated tin originally brightly colored with paint. In 1911 it was more gray than white and was pockmarked with areas where paint had peeled and fallen to the weed strewn ground. It was definitely not the ‘big-end’ of town or architecture.
Moora Neya, or the Message of the Spear was set in territory familiar to Kyle from his youthful travels. The area of the aboriginal station was in Brewarrina just west of the Darling River, and that brought back memories of his cowboy days as did the action involving the aborigines in their full war paint—authentic as he recalled it. The movie–like all of the silent movies of its time–was stiff and jerky with action flitting on and off the silver screen. The plot was worse even than those seen in the amateur playhouses around Victoria.
A handsome, well-mannered, gentleman named Harry fell in love with the remote station owner’s daughter. He was dressed in white clothes, including an exceptionally clean white western hat. The heroine was a remake of Pearl Pureheart–virginal, sweet, and beautiful. The oil-can-Harry-model villain was the station overseer who was cruel to the innocent aborigines who strove to please the overseer and to protect the delicate heroine. The evil-doer made crude advances towards the heroine but failed to succeed because Harry appeared on the scene and beat the evil incarnate anti-hero to a nerveless pulp.
When he came to, the evil overseer attempted to get some of the local Worimi Aborigines to kill Harry with a promise of a paltry sum of money and some liquor. One of the indigenous aborigines—faithful and true to the kind station master and the lovely and kind heroine—refused and alerted the guards in the station building by writing a message on his spear. Harry was just about to slough his mortal coil when the area’s rough but honest stockmen raced to his rescue as the wicked aborigines corrupted by the overseer began to perform the “Death Dance” around the fallen hero. The stockmen managed to kill the overseer, to drive off the aborigines, and to save Harry. At the end of the flick, Harry and the heroine were reunited as the scene faded to dark as the pleasant evening drew over the happy throng.
The movie was made in early 1911 with a total of forty-one scenes and was written for the silver screen by one man because of budget issues. It was not entirely certain that the movie would ever get made because of labor issues. The big end of town moviemakers were told they could hire aborigines as extras for two cents a day. They balked and would not budge on the day that filming was supposed to begin. After a strenuous labor negotiation, a compromise was achieved in which the aborigines would work industriously for four cents a day and a tobacco stick at the end of each working day.
“How’d you like the flick?” Kyle asked as they made their way back to their hotel.
Alexandra struggled to maintain a soda-cracker expression on her face before answering.
“Interesting,” she said.
A small hint of a naughty smile curled the corners of her lips.
“Out with it,” Kyle said. “I thought it was pretty exciting, didn’t you?”
She could not hold back and started to laugh hard enough to bring tears to her eyes and to make her face flush.
“Kyle, I know you went way out of your way to woo and to entertain me; but I have to tell you that I think that movie was just about the silliest production I ever saw. I’ve seen better Chinese operas. The story had perfectly good people pitted against perfectly bad people, and the ending was as predictable as drought in the outback. The movie made my eyes jump around. It was flickering and jerking until I could not keep watching. I will make a firm prophecy. Movies are never going to make it in the entertainment world. It was a waste of ten cents a piece for us to go, except that I—at least—got a good laugh out of it.”
Kyle gave out a heavy sigh.
“You are a hard one to please. You were not thrilled by the epicurean dinner we had or by the exquisite surroundings, china, and cutlery. You turned up your nose at the fine evening’s entertainment. Next, I expect to hear complaints about our world class hotel.”
They both laughed, slapped their thighs, and hooted, especially when the visual image of their fourth-class accommodations came to mind. None of that bothered Kyle since the comedy of the evening was prologue to a marvelous night in the seedy hotel with the lumpy bed. Both Kyle and Alexandra harbored thoughts that the getaway trip might produce another Bradshaw baby.
When they arrived back in Melbourne, it was a scene of serious and violent turmoil. What had been a battle of words and threats when they left had grown into an ugly strike. H.V. McKay, owner of the Sunshine Harvester Works in Melbourne, took upon himself a crusade to crush the long strike that had begun in 1911 and was still creating the worst of di
visions of Melbourne society. The strike came about because of McKay’s attempts to circumvent the Harvester Judgment by the courts. There were riots under way in the streets of Melbourne when the Bradshaws drove back into the city. It had now achieved the dubious distinction of being the longest strike in Victoria’s history. Bitter as that strike was, the seaman’s strike was worse and even more bitter and violent. Kyle and Alexandra determined to get involved; unfortunately, on opposite sides.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
IDEOLOGICAL CONFLICTS
I don’t accept ideologies that are not a product of consensus. I don’t have an ideology, but I do have a sense of what’s right and what’s wrong.
—Ruben Blades
Number 1-8, Collins Street, Victoria State, Melbourne, Commonwealth of Australia, May 2, 1912
Alexandra and Kyle discussed the labor strife as if it was an abstract concept which did not touch them in the beginning. The bitter arguments, and rallies, and the violent struggles on the waterfront and in the streets surrounding the Harvester factory were becoming increasingly acerbic and more amaroidal as the days wore on. The three-month seamen’s strike brought shipping around Australia to a standstill. Hundreds of Melbourne workers were stood down, and coal and food supplies dwindled. Riots and bombings were becoming commonplace. The Arbitration Court was created to minimise industrial disputes, but the number and degree of vitriol from strikes continued unabated through the year.
Although Kyle was ostensibly a hard-hearted capitalist, his struggles and the memories of the pain of being unfairly treated as a young workman colored his every thought about the industrial strife. Alexandra was at her core an aristocrat and could not be shaken from her belief that the good which came to the lower classes and to the working man emanated from the profits garnered by large businesses and farms which employed huge numbers of people. Kyle saw no value to a class system. Alexandra saw no future for a lawless and classless society. Kyle fretted over and set out to spend his money to help the impoverished workers and their families. Alexandra felt threatened by his actions which made no sense. She made her support for the men and their families who were locked in a struggle to preserve the economy, and indeed, civilization. She was determined to keep the way of life she knew strong against the inroads of the great unwashed. Kyle became evermore vitriolic about the need for a populist government that would overturn the unchristian, corrupt, quagmire which held the majority of the citizenry in thrall.
The Mysterious Alexandra Tarasova-Yusupov Page 43