by Gordon Ryan
“Yes, sir. Let me just lock up here.”
The large travel trunk Andy presented to Tom and Katrina for a wedding present was magnificent. Completely wrapped in tooled leather, the trunk had silver buckles on the straps, which provided double protection, in case the latches failed. Stitch had done an excellent job of personalizing the leather covering, and it made a handsome gift.
Preparations for Tom and Katrina’s European trip involved, among other things, contracting to begin construction on a new home during their absence.
Tom originally had it in mind to build and furnish the home as a surprise for Katrina. But when he shared that idea with the Thurstons, Alice Thurston quickly convinced him of the folly in such a plan.
“Thomas, I don’t mean to interfere, but I can’t imagine anything more unsettling to a woman,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Tom asked. “Just thinkin’ about the look she’ll get on her face when she walks in makes me grin.”
“The look she’ll get on her face will probably make you do something besides grin,” Alice said. “Katrina will have some definite ideas about how she wants her house built and furnished. I suggest you involve her in the planning and find some other way to surprise her, Thomas.”
Tom had taken Alice’s advice and been glad of it. As it turned out, Katrina took a keen interest in every detail and had some excellent ideas about the floor plan and appearance, including things that would never have occurred to Tom or any other man he knew.
Amid squeals of delight from Katrina and a number of hugs and kisses, Tom informed her of his plan to build them a mansion. He put her in touch with the architect, an excellent man by the name of Forsey with the premier architectural firm in Salt Lake City—Frederic Albert Hale, Architects. Hale’s firm had already designed several mansions located on “Brigham Street,” and Forsey had some excellent ideas. He convinced the Callahans to let him draw up plans for a large, English Tudor style home.
Tom had already contracted with Lars Hansen to build a complete household of furniture, per his daughter’s specifications. The surprised look on his father-in-law’s face when Tom placed the order and said he would be paying cash in advance, was worth all Tom could imagine. Of course, Mr. Hansen eventually learned the source of Tom’s newfound wealth and of his banking and mining interests, but Tom and Katrina enjoyed keeping him in the dark for a while and watching his consternation.
From the moment Tom confided in Katrina about the new house, she filled her hours with frenetic activity, coordinating plans with the relevant parties to ensure the home had her personal stamp on it. She became acquainted with the sales clerks at ZCMI, and the department store manager frequently arranged lunch to be provided for Mrs. Callahan during her long sessions with his drapery and linen personnel.
Her excitement was such that she wondered, half seriously, if they shouldn’t postpone their European trip until construction was actually under way. Whatever excitement Tom imagined he would have seen in Katrina’s eyes if he had actually pulled off such a surprise, was now available for him to see every day. She was completely absorbed by the project and took great delight in every little bit of progress.
The one thing Tom did surprise Katrina with was the lot he chose. Located on a branch of the stream that ran out of Red Butte Canyon, the heavily wooded site was situated on South Temple, immediately east of Holy Cross Hospital. It would, Forsey assured Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, lend itself very nicely to his design.
Tom’s initial meeting with Father Scanlan and Sister Mary, after his return to Salt Lake also went very well. They welcomed him warmly, and Father Scanlan declared his pleasure in having a true-blue Irish relative as a member of his diocese. It was a surprise to both Father Scanlan and Sister Mary to learn just how successful Tom had been in Alaska. While he kept his banking plans confidential, his proposal to establish a permanent fund for the hospital thrilled Sister Mary, for whom obtaining adequate funding to operate the hospital was always a challenge.
“ . . . and I propose that the fund be used primarily for children, to pay for their hospital and surgical care, Father, with Sister Mary serving as the gateway through which people may access the fund,” Tom said, completing his presentation to the Catholic leaders.
“Thomas, this is a most generous contribution. Is there no way we can convince you to allow us to publicly acknowledge such a gracious gift?” Father Scanlan asked.
“Father, I prefer it this way, beggin’ your permission, of course. It’s selfish actually. If people knew I was the provider of such a fund, many others would come askin’ for other contributions. Also . . . ” Tom said, looking out the window in Father Scanlan’s office, “. . . me mother used to say all the time, that ‘man’s charity to man should be known but to God.’” Turning to look at Father Scanlan and Sister Mary, both seated and watching him, he added, “But I suppose, that as God’s servants on earth, you two don’t count in that exclusion,” he said, grinning happily at each of them.
“As you wish, my son,” Father Scanlan said, rising. “Sister Mary will be in charge of the distribution of the funds, and she may call on me as she requires for assistance.”
“Tom,” Father Scanlan said, laying his hands on Tom’s broad shoulders, “you are a most unusual man, with wisdom far beyond what one would expect, given your age. But if I might be permitted to exhibit a bit of pride, it is what I would expect of my cousin. I’m very proud of you, Tom. And I’m most pleased with your exoneration from the troubles that have previously plagued you.
“Now, on another subject,” he said, lowering his head and looking over the rims of his glasses, “if I could only persuade you to sanctify your marriage in the eyes . . . ”
Tom raised his hand, his eyes pleading respectfully with Father Scanlan. “I’m sorry, Father, but I’ve given m’word to Katrina that I’ll not be interferin’ with her religion. I intend to keep that word. Not only will I not interfere, I’ll support her, when and where I can. Please understand me, Father.”
Father Lawrence Scanlan, Archbishop of the Salt Lake Diocese, simply nodded his head and walked with Tom toward the door to his office. Sister Mary followed and after the three stepped into the hallway of the rectory, she gave Tom a hug.
“If you tell anyone about that hug, Mr. Callahan, I’ll not recall a moment of it,” she winked. “But I want you to know how pleased I am for you. I knew God had a purpose in sending you to us, and you have begun to fulfill that purpose, Thomas. May God continue to bestow His good graces on you. You have a strong woman by your side now, and a God-given helpmeet for your future. See that you honor her, Thomas, and that you comport yourself as would be worthy of your newfound status in the community.”
“Sister, you sound like my mother,” Tom laughed.
“Aye, and you’ll be obeying me too,” she said, shaking her finger in front of her smile, “like you would her. I care for you a great deal, Thomas. We are about God’s work here, and as I told you on one of our early morning deliveries, we care not by what name they call their religion. They are all God’s children, so we do His work, no matter whom we serve. Also, Thomas, I admire your stand in support of Katrina’s beliefs.”
“Thank you, Sister,” Tom said. “But since you mentioned our early morning deliveries,” he added, “is there anything I can do to help with your . . .”
“No, Thomas,” she smiled, shaking her head. “Those needs are taken care of, and the man currently involved needs the blessings of his service. If the time comes, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m sure you will, Sister. Well, I’m off to see what our new house will look like today. Katrina is having a wonderful time with her plannin’ ’n schemes.”
“Where will it be located, Thomas?”
“Close enough for you to have lunch with us occasionally, Sister. Just up South Temple from the hospital. Near the intersection at Thirteenth East.”
“Excellent.”
“A
good day to you, Sister. Please call if you need anything, although we’ll be leaving soon. I’ll leave instructions with Mr. Thurston. You’ll recall him—the emergency appendectomy we stumbled on early one morning with David McKay.”
“Oh, yes. I remember him well. A fine man. I’ll call on him if I need anything while you’re gone, Thomas. Thank you,” she said, taking his hand in hers.
Two weeks before his meeting with Father Scanlan and Sister Mary, Tom had been well pleased when Robert Thurston agreed to become the President and General Manager of the newly incorporated Utah Trust Bank. Surprisingly, he had only one question at the time.
“Why Utah Trust Bank, Tom?” he’d asked.
Tom laughed. “On the train from San Francisco, when I told Katrina of my intentions, she expressed doubt. ‘What do you know of banking, Thomas?’ she said, and I replied, ‘Nothin’.’ I asked her what she thought was the most important characteristic of a bank, and after some thought, she said, ‘They’d have to trust you with their money. They’d need complete trust.’ Wise counsel, I thought, and so I came up with the name, Utah Trust Bank. Together, we’ll see if we can deserve the name, Robert.”
“We will indeed, Tom. I like it. I like it a lot. So, when do you leave?”
“In just a month. We sail from New York three weeks after that. That should give us some time in New York. Katrina wants to see it, and I would like another look at the haunts I learned to know during my stay there. We should be back sometime in early May. I’ll keep you advised by telegraph. I’ll also give you a schedule so you can get in touch if you need to, but I have total faith in your judgment.”
“Six months in Europe. Quite a trip. You should be able to see most of it in that time, at least the major cities,” Robert said.
“I believe so. Think you’ll have the bank up and running when I return?”
“If I don’t, I’ll be knocking on Zion’s’ door, looking for my old job back,” he laughed. “In all seriousness, I’m sure we’ll be well along the way. I’ve already made some connections with prospective mining interests who wish to consider our proposals.”
“And you’re not even on salary yet,” Tom reminded him.
“Right,” he nodded. “I will be soon enough. I gave notice to Zion’s for the end of the month. About that, Tom, I wanted to express my appreciation at your allowing me to determine the appropriate salary level for the position.”
Tom nodded, thoughtfully. “As I said, Robert, I trust your judgment. I want your full attention to our venture, because as much as I don’t know, I do know that without your guidance, we won’t succeed.”
“Thanks, Tom. How about a going away dinner at our home a few days before you leave? We’ll invite Sister Mary and a few of your friends.”
“We’d like that. Just let me know when, Robert.”
The final four weeks flew by, and Katrina was certain that the house needed much more attention. With Tom’s assurance that they could telegraph any major concerns, and that the architect had been instructed to cable with any important issues, she agreed to leave. The actual departure was difficult for Katrina and tears flowed freely as she hugged Andy at the train station. After her ordeal in Mexico, she had found comfort and security again in Salt Lake City, feeling toward the city as her home, forgetting completely that she had been in Mexico nearly as long as she had been in Utah.
Sister Mary came to the train station to see them off, as well, along with Katrina’s mother and two younger sisters. Lars Hansen had not yet reached an accommodation with the idea of his daughter actually being married to a Catholic Irishman. He said his good-byes privately to Katrina, several days earlier, grudgingly admitting, as Katrina teased him, that the “Irish lout” was looking better all the time.
Two events during their closing days in Salt Lake made Katrina’s future considerably more pleasant, and therefore, her departure somewhat easier. The first was a decision on the part of church officials that Harold’s duplicity in taking a second wife in Mexico was no cause to call Katrina’s membership into question. It was clear that she had been victimized and was an innocent party. President George Q. Cannon had taken time to interview Katrina and had taken the sweet young woman to his heart.
President Cannon also met for a few minutes with Tom, impressing the young Irishman by his openness and tolerance. He told Tom that he admired and respected Father Scanlan and Sister Mary for their work, suggesting that he knew more about it than Tom would have suspected.
After the interviews were complete, the Mormon Apostle stood for a moment with the Callahans outside the door to his office, a hand resting affectionately on a shoulder of each one. He thanked them for coming to see him, then winking at Katrina, and squeezing Tom’s shoulder, he said so Tom could hear, “See that you bring this young fellow into the true church at the earliest opportunity.”
The second exciting event occurred during the final week of their preparations, when Katrina secretly arranged, so as not to be embarrassed if the venture failed, an audition with the director of the tabernacle choir. With Assistant Conductor, Horace Ensign, at the piano, Conductor Evan Stephens talked with Katrina for a while as Brother Ensign casually played a melodic sequence of notes on the keyboard. Brother Stephens answered Katrina’s questions, and then politely asked her to sing the musical phrases that Brother Ensign had just played. Katrina was surprised, but she had subconsciously entertained the melody in her mind and was easily able to repeat it, with only a slight deviation.
Brother Stephens appeared to be delighted and asked if Katrina had come prepared with any of her own music. He listened attentively as she performed three of her own selections and two of his choosing. She apologized for the condition of her voice, admitting that she had practiced very little.
She had, Brother Stephens judged, “an outstanding lyric soprano voice” and told her that if she wished to do so, he would be pleased to have her join the choir upon her return from Europe. She beamed proudly as she delivered the wonderful news to Tom, but he brought her back down to earth by asking if the choir was likely to let her sing “Sweet Rosie O’ Grady.”
So, in late October, 1897, Thomas and Katrina Callahan boarded the transcontinental train in Salt Lake City, Utah, bound for New York City and from there, to Cork, Ireland, the first of many European sites they intended to visit on an extended honeymoon. Eighteen months, and many trials after they originally met, Thomas Callahan, rich beyond his wildest expectations, only twenty-two, and married to his first true love, and Katrina Hansen, not yet twenty, married, widowed, mother of a deceased child, and married again to the Irish larrikin her father had warned her about, were on their way back to where they had started, much wiser than when they had originally boarded the Antioch that spring morning in Ireland.
The Ille de France, a four-stack steamship, made slow headway as the New York harbor tugs retreated to their berths, their task accomplished. Under her own power, and at the direction of a harbor pilot, the ship cautiously made her way toward the open sea, her fog horn sounding as a warning to all shipping that the large, oceangoing vessel would not, in fact, could not, give quarter to any smaller craft foolish enough to invade her path.
For the first time as man and wife, Tom and Katrina stood at the bow railing, straining to gain a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, which was shrouded in an early morning mist that blanketed New York Harbor. Bound for Europe, the couple would enjoy two weeks of extended solitude at sea, the first such since their return from Mexico.
Katrina enjoyed their stay in New York City immensely. She and Tom took in all the latest shows, shopped extensively for trendy clothing, and enjoyed the food and luxuries that wealth can provide. Though the Hansens had not been fabulously wealthy, Katrina had been brought up to enjoy a certain level of creature comforts. Still, she was somewhat conservative in her tastes and frequently felt as though Tom were extravagant in the things he provided her. As for him, he had had quite enough of poverty, and remembering the weeks and
months he had spent hunkered down in the icy waters of El Dorado Creek, painstakingly extracting the precious flecks that constituted his fortune, he felt he had earned his money. And if he wished to indulge his wife, then he would do so. Then, too, he thought the enjoyment of a few luxuries would compensate in part for the time Katrina had spent, enduring her various hardships in Mexico and scratching out her meager subsistence on the beach.
That he loved her, Tom had long since acknowledged to himself, and increasingly to her. Katrina knew that for a country lad from Ireland, for whom the appearance of manliness was paramount, confession of a tender emotion, such as love, did not come easily. She appreciated his words all the more for the difficulty he had in expressing them. In the bloom of his passion for her, he had found it easy to say the sweet things, but it was not a natural skill for him, and though he had intense feelings for Katrina, he would struggle increasingly in his life to express tenderness and affection.
She also was appreciative, however silently, of Tom’s apparent willingness to disregard her former marriage and the fact that she had once rejected him as a suitor. Somehow, even in the face of Tom’s candid and fervent declarations of love for her, she had not been able to bring herself to tell him that she had loved him all along. Or declare that her marriage to Harold had been one of logic, of propriety, and one born of a desire to follow the counsel of the church that she marry someone with like beliefs. Though not yet twenty, Katrina had learned one of the most important lessons in life—that similar beliefs are only a part of a successful relationship, and that there are other factors that go into the making of a lasting companionship.
Tom provided the caring, the loving, and the concern for other humans which Harold, while devout in his outward religious manifestations, had failed to practice in his daily living. The model after which Katrina, secretly in her heart, hoped to mold Thomas, was that of President George Q. Cannon, who had impressed Katrina as the type of religious leader who combines a basic love for humanity, and a willingness to allow others to come to their own realization of what the Lord would have them do.