May and Francis were accompanied by May’s cousin, Thomas Parke, a Philadelphia broker. Strong befriended Tom and, through him, May. According to May, Strong became the “life of the ship.” May spent time with him and heard from Tom that Strong greatly admired her. May was flattered, especially given Strong’s youth; he was perhaps five to eight years her junior. As she later wrote, Strong was “a fascinating man, with a suave gallantry which charmed women. I never have known a woman who, after being thrown in Captain Strong’s company for a while, did not fall in love with him—wife or maid or widow, it was always the same.”3
Strong’s courtship was masterful, something May herself recognized in the years to come. “Strong was a splendid conversationalist. He drew me out about my early experiences, and was wonderfully sympathetic when I told him of my early troubles and enthusiastic when I recounted my successes.”4
Putnam Bradlee Strong, c. 1900. (photo credit 8.1)
As the ocean liner made its way across the Atlantic, Lord Francis was oblivious to Strong’s courtship of May and May’s obvious delight in the attention. “Captain Strong was most respectful to him, and seemed to know just how to humor him,” May wrote, and added:
He made no advances to me at all during the trip. Had he done so I would have repulsed him without hesitation. Instead though, he [Strong] talked to me of my husband, and congratulated me for keeping “an English Lord” in love with me. ‘They are so careless about their women usually, you know,’ he said, echoing just what was in my heart, ‘and once they have caught them think the romance job is done.’5
Strong verbally seduced May, telling her that “a man should be a sweetheart always, planning to humor his wife, to surprise her with little unexpected attentions, to keep her on the same plane she occupied as his fiancé.” He declared “You should be happy to have found a Britisher who still remains your lover.”6 For May, this was the clincher:
Of course, Captain Strong knew I hadn’t found a Britisher who thought it worthwhile to still be my sweetheart. He just acted as if he thought that, knowing that he was hitting me in a vulnerable spot, without my realizing he knew. Unconsciously, I began to think how much happier I would be and how much brighter the world would be if my husband were as attentive and thoughtful as this Captain Strong evidently would be if he were in my husband’s shoes.
When a woman begins to think of that comparison between her husband and another man, she is slipping. If the other man is clever, he will land her for the fall. And Captain Strong was beyond all things else clever.7
May recognized her own romantic vulnerability, and she knew she was about to land in England where her career was in shambles and her husband faced increased tribulations from his bankruptcy. Rather than restoring their marriage, the trip around the world confirmed its bankruptcy as well. She was indebted to Lord Francis and felt a true fondness for him. But she needed more. She was an attractive, vivacious, talented and accomplished woman in her early thirties. Strong’s charms revealed a love-deprived heart yearning for true romance—and also provided the cure. May was clearly infatuated with Strong by the time they arrived on England’s shore.
Lord Francis and Lady May were met in Southampton by Francis’ elder brother Archibald, the duke of Newcastle. Archibald had arranged a special train to take them to London. Francis asked Strong to come along, telling the duke that he was “a good friend who made the trip across very pleasant for us.”8 In London, the party had a glorious dinner at the Carlton. May unpacked all of her jewels and picked the best among them to wear.
Something prompted me to want to look my best, although at that time my thoughts of Captain Strong never had strayed from the boundaries imposed upon a good wife. Yet, somehow, I wanted to impress this gentleman of the world who had been so attentive to me.9
May wore a gown that was a replica of one worn by the French Empress Eugénie. May later recounted that she wore the Hope diamond for the occasion. Once again, she was almost certainly exaggerating: “With the big diamond shining at the bodice and my own jewels, more than half a million dollars’ worth, supplementing it, I must have been very impressive.”10
That evening, Lord Francis invited Strong to stay with the couple at their country place at Folkestone for a few days. Strong took him up on it. At Folkestone, Strong largely ignored May and spent an inordinate amount of time with Francis. Recalling that, May thought it was part of Strong’s game—whetting her own appetite for attention while undermining any suspicious thoughts her husband might have.
It worked. May announced she had to go to Paris to review theatrical contracts. Strong said that he, too, had to go to Paris. Francis insisted that May and Strong travel together.
On the trip, Strong was kind and attentive to May:
In Paris he sent me candies and flowers every day. My cousin [Tom Parke] came over to help me with the contracts, and Captain Strong … took us to all the best restaurants and theaters. He just showered me with his courtesies, and as we saw more of each other I began to notice more and more a sort of sadness in his eyes, an ineffable, wistful, longing, whenever he looked at me. Tom saw it too, and joked to me about it. I began to feel sorry for the Captain; for I thought perhaps he really had become smitten with me during our many hours together, and was trying to hide his feelings.11
Later, May also recalled her feelings about the difference between Strong’s attentions and her husband’s behavior:
Captain Strong pulled the strings that tugged at my heart. Always he stood before me, my ideal of the devoted, impulsive, romantic man I would like my husband to be. Meantime Lord Francis was paying little attention to me—letting me go about my affairs, always kind, but never exhibiting any of the little tendernesses which are so dear to a woman.12
Back in London, Strong again joined May and Francis. May then had to return to New York to manage her American contracts for theatrical performances. Lord Francis could not go. He had to attend to family business; he and his brother were involved in a lawsuit over the disposal of some family land. May said her goodbyes to Strong and Lord Francis and boarded the ship for New York. Then, as she later wrote:
What was my surprise when the boat sailed to meet Captain Strong on deck. He laughingly said he could not bear to say goodbye to me so shortly, and that he was going as far as Cherbourg and stretch the ceremony of parting that far anyway. This just struck me as a rather delicious escapade, and I entered into the spirit of it.
‘Why Captain,’ I said laughingly, ‘you make me feel quite like a guilty wife—as if I were doing something delightfully wicked. I just tremble at the thought of what my husband would say if he knew you had stolen back aboard the boat.’
Captain Strong sobered immediately. He looked at me with the familiar sadness and longing in his eyes. ‘I wonder if being so wicked as you play at being would really be delightful—with me as the other part of the wicked bargain?’
I was startled.
‘I mean it, Lady Maysie,’ he said. ‘I’d like it awfully if you and I were eloping now, and you were leaving your husband behind and were to become my wife. But I mustn’t talk that way. Forgive me. I’m getting off at Cherbourg, and you mustn’t think of what I’ve said again.’
But I did think of it again. I couldn’t help it.13
In New York, May found cables from Strong that he’d sent every day while she continued across the Atlantic. Strong sent flowers to her which filled her hotel room. Every morning and every afternoon there was another delivery simply saying “Good morning,” or “Good afternoon” from Strong.
Presently, I found myself thinking more and more about Captain Strong’s whereabouts, what he was doing, what he might be thinking about, etc., than of the same things in connection with my husband. When I caught myself at this errantry I put such vagrant thoughts aside, but it was such a joy in my life, this having someone who seemed to be thinking of me all the time, that I was not as firm with myself as I should have been.14
May had serious business
to do in New York. Her agreement with Harry Chamberlyn to appear at the newly built Savoy Theatre in Manhattan’s Herald Square on Thirty-fourth Street, opposite Macy’s, and at the Columbia Theatre in Boston was falling through. Chamberlyn was grappling with a dispute over the management and rental of the theaters. His failures didn’t stop him from later suing May for $50,000.
May pursued other deals and settled on one that would bring her back to the United States quickly. Willie Hammerstein, the son of theatrical entrepreneur Oscar Hammerstein, signed May for $1,500 a week—an exorbitant amount—to appear in a burlesque variety show, The Giddy Throng, scheduled to open in December at the New York Theatre. Then May returned to England, where she joined Lord Francis.
In November 1900, Lord Francis and Lady May were invited to the seat of the duke of Newcastle, Clumber Castle. Lord Francis joined the men in a shooting party. It was the first time May was formally received at the castle, and the newspapers made much of the fact that she was “finally recognized.”15 There are several possible reasons for the family’s change of attitude. The dowager duchess had been impressed with May’s charitable work, and pleased that she was no longer on the theatrical stage. The duke and Francis had just prevailed in a complicated lawsuit with an uncle over control of the estate’s lands. Duke Archibald was also intending to take a trip to America, and sought help from Francis and May in making the arrangements.
Ironically, one article noted, “now that the Duke of Newcastle, a pillar of the high church party, has received her [May], society will quickly open its doors to her.”16 If May read the story, she might have thought of Strong and contemplated how very quickly those same doors could slam shut.
Francis and May sailed to New York aboard the Minneapolis, he to ready plans for his brother’s visit, she for rehearsals for her theatrical appearances—which she continued to deny in the English press in order not to stir things up with the Newcastle clan.
On December 18 the New York Times ran a story, “Duke of Newcastle Here,” noting that the duke was heartily greeted by his brother and joined for dinner at the Savoy by the “radiant” Lady Francis Hope.17 Archibald was spearheading an important religious effort—he was working on reconciling the American Episcopal Church with the Church of England. He was also in the United States to see New York, go fishing with his brother in Florida, and visit the Pacific Northwest.
May and Lord Francis probably didn’t bring up her forthcoming show premiere—the duke wouldn’t have reacted well. Francis, though, was enthused that May was resuming her career in The Giddy Throng, and at the New York Theatre, no less.
The New York Theatre was part of the famed Olympia, built by Oscar Hammerstein in 1895 as the first theater in what was to become the Broadway theater district. Hammerstein also built the Victoria in 1899 and the Republic in 1900, to further develop the area between Broadway and Seventh Avenue, from Forty-second to Forty-fourth Street. The Olympia was the length of a whole city block, constructed of Indiana limestone, and ornamented in French Renaissance style. Hammerstein called it an “amusement palace,” with three houses, the Music Hall, the Concert Hall, and the Theatre with a capacity of about 6,000. So grand was the Olympia that one of its houses, the Music Hall, had 128 boxes in eleven ascending tiers, offering seating for 2,800. It was devoted to vaudeville.18 In 1899, the Music Hall was renamed the New York Theatre.
Lord Francis took delight in being in May’s dressing room in the extraordinary building, watching her don her costume and set the numerous gems that adorned it. Hammerstein’s contract with May included the stipulation that Francis also appear in the theater lobby, so that he could be seen by the audience as it entered and during intermission. It was part of the flash that Willie Hammerstein planned for the place. He was paying top dollar to attract audiences, and May’s name and story were an attraction meriting the large weekly price tag.
Olympia Theatre on Broadway, later renamed the New York Theatre, 1895. (photo credit 8.2)
May’s first performance was scheduled for Christmas Eve, 1900. She would appear in the second part of the bill, after the “Floradora” girl’s chorus line and the intermission. May would play Lady Muriel Despair. It wasn’t really a dramatic role, but rather a stage label for her in a routine marketed as a “new burlesque” review.
The marketing worked. The New York Times reported that so many crowded into “Willie” Hammerstein’s
to pay homage to the British peerage, or so much of it as is represented by May Yohe, who is billed in the mess of a nonsense produced last evening as Lady Francis Hope … When May Yohe left here she was said to have three notes in her voice.
She has apparently lost two of them in her journey across the Atlantic. But with a fore front—which in this case means from the neck to the waist line—blazing like the show window of a Broadway store in which are massed thousands of “Parisian diamonds”—your choice for $1—she displayed a couple of dresses and almost paralyzed the crowd with that one tone of her voice that is left when she tried to sing. The crowd applauded her because she was Lady Francis Hope. Rather sensibly she refused to try and sing again.
Besides her dazzling display of diamonds—the press agent says they are the family heirlooms of her husband’s noble ancestors—she wore a liberal allowance of grease paints and a handsome gown of white crepe de chine over yellow silk, a handsome opera cloak of white satin with elaborate gold appliquéd work, and a huge picture hat of yellow silk illusion with immense yellow roses and green leaves. Altogether, she was a stunning picture.
May Yohe was on the stage for ten minutes at the most in the second scene of “The Giddy Throng.” She was on again for two minutes in the last scene to show another gown of some pink stuff. She did not try to sing then, and so the crowd went away after the play better pleased with the last appearance than the first one.
Aside from Lady Hope’s appearance there was a burlesque-review which was a hodge-podge … It was without plot, and much of it was so pointless that about half the audience left before it had ended. It was one of those things that was unworthy of criticism, hardly of comment.19
May Yohe wearing the Hope jewels, including a facsimile of the blue diamond, for a performance, c. 1901. (photo credit 8.3)
Other critics too panned the show and May’s performance. One lamented the fact that she had come back to “her native land to show primarily that she has not lost her histrionic ability, and incidentally to replenish the family exchequer, which is said to be at a low ebb, and also to display the one note that she still possesses.”20
May might have argued otherwise on both counts. The Giddy Throng had a run of 164 performances, the fourth-longest-running show of the year. Over the course of the five-month run, May would have earned about $30,000, an amount equivalent to over $800,000 today.
May used some of her ample earnings to buy a lovely house for her mother in Hastings-on-Hudson, just north of New York. Hastings was a retreat for writers, artists, and producers. The house, a Queen Anne-style cottage, rested on a hill and had a domed tower, an open turret, and a wrap-around veranda offering panoramic views of the Hudson River. Its interior featured five fireplaces with blue and white Delftware tiles, an oak-paneled entryway and staircase, trent-pavement tiles, sliding pocket doors, and colored glass windows.
May and Lizzie may have chosen the location in part because of Dewitt Clinton Boutelle, a prominent Hudson River landscape painter who had lived in Bethlehem from 1858 until his death in 1884. Boutelle resided at the Eagle Hotel and his paintings hung on its walls. His vivid depictions of the wide-open Hudson Valley and its vibrant colors likely inspired the mother and daughter.
May performed in The Giddy Throng until the show closed in May 1901, while taking off time to also perform in Boston. A commentator there noted that the audience at the Columbia Theatre was stunned by Lady Hope’s display of jewelry—“she was an impressive picture.” But when it came to singing, she received only polite applause for a pleasing song that could be du
plicated by “many a girl in this city less known to fame.” The reviewer noted that something was clearly wrong and that May was “very nervous and her arms trembled noticeably.”21 The audience tossed May only two bouquets, and she came into the stage wings angry—though she did come out to sing another verse for an encore.
May Yohe, c. 1901. (photo credit 8.4)
Lord Francis Hope, c. 1901. (photo credit 8.5)
Both May’s career and marriage were clearly on the wane. Back in New York, May became ill and was hospitalized with pneumonia. Lord Francis was tarpon fishing in Tampa Bay, Florida. One of Strong’s friends let him know May was in the hospital. The Captain returned to New York to see her and brought with him an enormous bouquet of flowers. The nurse assured Strong that May would recover and that there was nothing he could do. May remembered what happened next:
He asked if he might not come each night and sit on a bench in the hall outside my door—just to make sure, he said, he would be close if some emergency should arise. The nurse smiled and told him she was afraid his presence, watching, waiting, would worry me. When he had gone, the nurse said to me, ‘That is the kind of man God ought to give every woman.’
I only laughed a little, but I found myself agreeing with her. The Captain’s apparent deep concern over my condition, his eagerness to sit on that bench outside my door all night long, willing to just sit there with the knowledge that he was close to me, even if not with me, was more soothing to me than I would admit. I thought of it all that morning—and then that afternoon came the reply to a telegram my physicians had sent during the night to Lord Francis.
Queen Anne-style house in Hastings-on-Hudson purchased by May Yohe for her mother Elizabeth Batcheller. (photo credit 8.6)
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