He was rather hesitant about accepting the invitation. He has no children of his own, and suddenly I realized he was terrified at the thought of spending the afternoon with my trio. I suppose there are any number of men—and even unmarried women—who look upon children as an alien race, not seeing in them anything of themselves, but I never cease to be astonished by this reaction. I have never treated a child as anything less than my equal and I am invariably accorded the same consideration.
This letter will have to serve as my holiday greeting to you and Dwight and the baby—though now that he is walking, he can hardly be considered a baby any more. We wish you joy and prosperity for the coming year—and today for the first time dare hope it for ourselves.
Je t’embrasse,
Bess
December 18, 1919
Dallas
Dear Papa and Mavis,
The closer we get to Christmas, the harder it is for me to live in the present. I am besieged by memories of last Christmas. The war was over and Rob was home again. Never was a holiday so filled with joy. Though I will never know such happiness again, at least I knew it once, and only some mind-shattering illness can keep it from being mine forever. Children fortunately approach each holiday as if it were happening for the first time, and they are eagerly looking forward to all that Christmas will bring.
Annie’s husband, Hans, has secured by means we decided not to question a pine tree from the woods of East Texas and we have decorated it with iced sugar cookies and candy canes (the advantage of edible ornaments is that they do not have to be stored).
Today Hans presented the children with a charming wooden crèche he carved by hand, devoting every lonely hour to it since his return. Though he is too proud to admit it, he clearly regrets his impulsive departure last summer, and I am ready to forgive him even if Annie is not.
Annie and I are planning a traditional German dinner for Christmas Eve—roast goose, red cabbage, and an array of pastries that will take her a week to bake. The children are learning some Christmas carols in German. To hear them sing “Stille Nacht” is almost to forget that terrible war.
We hope you will join us for the holidays. I have invited Lydia and Manning and little Marian to come for Christmas Eve dinner and bring Mother Steed but so far they have not given me a definite answer.
My love to you both,
Bess
December 20, 1919
Dallas
Miss Abigail Saunders
Director
Riverview Convalescent Home
Syracuse, New York
Dear Miss Saunders,
Enclosed please find a check covering past-due charges for room and board for my cousin Josephine Farrow. I apologize for the delay in making the payment, but the death of my husband last February left me in difficult circumstances, which I have only recently begun to surmount.
I am very sorry to hear of my cousin’s illness. I have not received a letter from her since last summer and I was beginning to wonder what reason I had given her for such a long silence. When she regains consciousness, please tell her I wrote to express my concern.
If she does not regain consciousness, may I remind you that I am the legal owner of the four-poster bed she now occupies, and in the event of her death, it is to be shipped C.O.D. to me here in Texas.
Cordially,
Bess Alcott Steed
December 31, 1919
Dallas
Dearest Totsie,
It is New Year’s Eve—and I bid 1919 adieu without regret. Last year at this time I was a child in my knowledge of the pain life is capable of inflicting upon us. In the space of a year I watched my life come to an end—and then slowly begin again.
I went out of my way to make sure we would have a large crowd on hand for the holidays. My father and his wife drove down from Honey Grove. They were only planning to stay overnight but the children clamored and cajoled until they finally agreed to spend the week with us.
Rob’s sister, Lydia, along with her mother, her daughter, and her husband, joined us for a gala dinner on Christmas Eve. We have seen them only a few times since our return to Dallas so there were some awkward moments at first among the adults. The children of course were as comfortable with each other as if they had been living next door all this time. The tension caused by my estrangement from my husband’s family was compounded by Annie’s nervousness at appearing as an equal in front of people who had known her previously as my employee. She had prepared a superb dinner, but, instead of taking her place at the table, insisted on running back and forth to the kitchen to serve everybody. I finally resolved the problem by appointing Robin butler, a role he relished.
After dinner we gathered around the fire to sing Christmas carols. Suddenly to my amazement my stepmother pulled a harmonica from her pocket and began to play a rousing accompaniment to “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” It was hardly heavenly music, but surely even the angels would have applauded our spirit. Tonight I am having dinner with my friend Arthur Fineman at his downtown club. He warned me that we would probably be the only ones there, but the thought of a quiet New Year’s Eve appeals to both of us. It is a comment on our society that the only club a man of his faith is allowed to join is a downtown business club, where membership is based on earning power rather than religious affiliation. I suppose either criterion is equally discriminatory, but at least the former seems more in keeping with the spirit of free enterprise on which this country was founded.
Darling Totsie, your friendship was the greatest gift the old year had to offer—and I hope every New Year will reaffirm it.
Bonne Année,
Bess
January 10, 1920
To The Stockholders
Midwestern Life Insurance Company
A NEW YEAR’S GREETING FROM THE CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD
Last year we shared a tragedy in the death of my husband. My personal loss was great—but no greater than the loss to the company of a bold and imaginative president. The severe influenza epidemic which took the life of my husband threatened the existence of life insurance companies across the country, and there were many casualties. Fortunately Midwestern Life Insurance was not among them. Thanks to stringent economic measures and great personal sacrifice on the part of its employees, the company was able not only to survive the crisis but to emerge in a strong competitive position at the beginning of this New Year.
The Board of Directors hopes to show its faith in the future by reinstating dividends next quarter.
Happy New Year!
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Alcott Steed
February 14, 1920
Dallas
Darling Totsie,
It is 5 A.M. I have not been able to sleep all night.
It was a year ago this morning that I awoke for the last time in the arms of my beloved husband. At this moment, with the children still asleep, the emptiness of my life is almost unbearable. If it were not for them, I wonder how I would have survived. I am grateful every day for the unceasing demands they make upon my time and energy. I know I should cherish their growing independence but every new step they take on their own seems to lead them further from my reach.
I had my heart set on having another child when Rob became ill last winter—another girl, I hoped. Sometimes in the still hours of the night just before I fall asleep, I can almost see her. Though never conceived in my womb, she is perfectly formed in my mind—an enchanting little creature, with a smile so radiant it could only exist in a dream. The dream is so real to me that I awake doubly deprived.
At times like this I take great comfort in the presence of Annie’s two small children and sometimes in the early morning hours, when I am the only one in the house awake, I tiptoe into the nursery and take the baby in my arms. Her warm presence does more than any word of comfort to fill the aching void in my heart.
Yesterday my friend Arthur Fineman invited me to accompany him to a production of Aïda at the Opera House here.
Impulsively I asked if I could buy three more tickets and take the children with us. The only available seats were in the balcony, so Arthur gallantly insisted on giving Eleanor and me his pair of orchestra seats while he joined Robin and Drew in the balcony. Eleanor sat enthralled through the triumphal march but fell asleep before Aïda was entombed, which was probably just as well since she has a horror of being trapped in dark places.
I am afraid Arthur was prevented from enjoying the opera by the presence of an active young boy at either elbow. I was unable to leave my seat at intermission as Eleanor had fallen asleep against my shoulder, so I did not see my three escorts again until the curtain came down for the final time. When I told Arthur good night, he said he had not fully realized until today how much he and his wife had missed by not having children —but he said it without any visible sign of regret. I know he thought the afternoon had been wasted on the children, but when I tucked Robin in bed tonight, he put his arms around me and said, “Good night, Celeste Mama.” I was amazed and asked him how he knew what that word meant. He answered, “Mr. Fineman told me the man was singing about a beautiful woman like my mother.” So I cannot agree that the afternoon was wasted—on any of us.
The Baltic cruise you and Dwight are planning for summer sounds delightful, but what will you do about the house in Vermont?
Tell Dwight that Arthur says there is a fortune to be made in South American silver mines for anyone willing to take a risk. Unfortunately I am not in that position—yet.
Je t’embrasse,
Bess
May 1, 1920
Dallas
Mr. Eben Stone
Tophill Farm
Devon Road
Woodstock, Vermont
Dear Mr. Stone,
My friends Mr. and Mrs. Dwight Davis have informed me that they will not be renewing their lease on the farm we occupied so happily last summer. In the hope that it is still available, I am enclosing a check for the first month’s rent. I trust this will be a sufficient deposit to reserve the farm for my family’s enjoyment for the months of June, July, and August.
Sincerely,
Bess Alcott Steed
June 1, 1920
Dallas
Dear Papa and Mavis,
We leave for Vermont at the end of the week and when we return to Dallas in September, a new home will be waiting for us. I am now the owner of a spacious, two-story brick house with attached garage. Since the fire I have never felt safe in a frame house, and though I know your house was considered a showplace in its day, I cannot help worrying about your safety.
I bought my house from an elderly couple looking for a place to retire. Dallas has become too large a city for their taste, so I suggested they think about East Texas and persuaded them to accept my title to Mama’s cotton farm outside Winnsboro as a down payment on the house. Since I could never oversee this property personally, I am happy to exchange it for an investment more suited to my immediate needs.
Farming is an occupation that will never hold much interest for me, since I am a city dweller at heart (though it took eighteen years of my life and marriage to an ambitious man to realize it). I cannot imagine Dallas ever becoming too large a city for my taste, so I have never looked upon the cotton farm as a possible setting for my old age. When I reap my final harvest, I hope to have a lot more than cotton to show for my effort in the fields of life.
Annie has decided to enter nursing school in the fall and I have agreed to supplement her savings so she can meet the cost of tuition. Her decision came as a blow to Hans who had hoped financial necessity would succeed where Christian charity had failed, forcing her to forgive him and welcome him back as head of the household. But Annie is determined to make her own way and I can only applaud her resolve. Frankly, now that Hans has agreed to pay a fixed amount of his income each month for child support and to commit a certain number of hours each week to their care, Annie feels better provided for than she did when they were living together as man and wife.
Manning and Lydia moved to Denton last month. They will begin academic life in the fall—he as a graduate student and college instructor, she as a high-school teacher—but I have persuaded them to spend at least part of the summer in Vermont with us. Mother Steed declined the invitation, preferring to stay home alone. I have missed them since they moved—and regret that we wasted so much of the time when we were all living in the same city. Life causes estrangement enough—why do we add to it out of misplaced pride? I am glad we will be sharing the summer.
Much love,
Bess
June 3, 1920
Dallas
Dear Cousin Josie,
Miss Saunders has been writing me at regular intervals to keep me informed of your condition, and I was delighted to learn from her last letter that you had regained consciousness long enough to inquire about me.
The children and I are well—and on our way to Vermont for the summer. I was disappointed we never got a chance to see you last summer and I would like to stop in Syracuse next week and pay you a brief visit. In the meantime, I trust your condition will continue to improve so that we can have a nice talk when I arrive.
Your devoted cousin,
Bess
June 15, 1920
Woodstock, Vermont
Dear Papa and Mavis,
Forgive me for not writing sooner but there has been so much to do since we arrived last week.
In New York City I parted ways with Manning and Lydia and the children. They took the first train for Vermont while I made a brief excursion to Syracuse for what I fear was a farewell visit with Cousin Josie.
When I learned that she had regained consciousness, I had hoped we might have a real visit, but what passes for consciousness in that place is a far cry from my definition. I did all the talking and Cousin Josie sat across from me dozing. I didn’t think she had any idea who I was, but when I stood to leave, she suddenly opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a handsome gold locket which she thrust into my hands.
I fumbled with the catch but finally succeeded in opening it —and found myself staring into my own face. Cousin Josie had taken an old photograph I had sent her years ago and fitted it into the locket. Upon examining the locket further, I discovered my picture had been placed over a picture of her dead parents. A sort of justice, I suppose. They took care of her at the beginning of her life and I took care of her at the end. But what did she do with all those years between? Was there ever another picture in the locket? A friend? A lover?
Cousin Josie made it clear I was to take the locket with me. It was the only thing left for me to inherit and would have been sent to me automatically at her death but I was touched to receive it directly from her. I kissed her good-bye and thought I saw a tear rolling down her cheek, but the nurse assured me it was a chronic allergy for which there seems to be no cure.
I had planned to stay the night in Syracuse, but once I left Cousin Josie I was determined to keep moving. I feared anyone who fell asleep there would awaken like Rip Van Winkle—twenty years older and nothing to show for it.
So I boarded an early evening train for Vermont. There were no Pullman accommodations, but it did not matter since I was in no mood to be alone. There were many stops, and I did not reach my destination much sooner than I would have if I had waited till morning for an express, but the motion of the train and the presence of the other passengers was very reassuring.
I so seldom travel alone I had forgotten how it feels to be surrounded by people and yet separate from them. I cannot imagine ever being lonely in such circumstances. There are so many possibilities for contact—knowing this and yet choosing to ignore all of them gives me a consoling sense of power. Alone on a train, I feel my life could go in any direction and at journey’s end when I rejoin my family, I am filled with elation at the wisdom of my choice. Though they never know it, I have considered every possibility and once again chosen them. Of course I realize I am only playing a game; my choices were
made long ago. I wonder how many other times when I truly thought the choice was mine I was playing the game without realizing it.
My excursion to Syracuse spared me the work of getting the farmhouse in order and by the time I arrived Manning and Lydia had everything well under control. All four children are bunking happily in the loft and the adults have the two downstairs bedrooms—a happy arrangement which affords me more privacy than I have known since we left St. Louis. How I look forward to moving into our spacious new home when we return to Dallas in the fall.
I hope your summer proves to be as pleasant as ours promises to be.
Much love,
Bess
June 25, 1920
Woodstock
Dear Arthur,
I accept with pleasure your invitation to join you in Boston for the July 4 weekend. It was kind of you to include the children but they cannot be coaxed into forsaking the country for even a day in the city. However, my sister-in-law and her husband are here with them so I am free to leave for a few days and I doubt that I will even be missed.
I am in ecstasy at the thought of all the theater and concerts awaiting us. I bought a Boston newspaper and have already written to make reservations. I know you must be occupied with all the business details of the trip, so I thought I would spare you the inconvenience of arranging our entertainment. Also please let me assume the responsibility of reserving our hotel accommodations, since I am so much closer to Boston.
I look forward to celebrating our country’s independence in the city where it was conceived—and to enjoying a few days of freedom myself.
A Woman of Independent Means Page 12