Since all people reflect to a considerable degree their original environment, it seems safe to say that some of my uncle’s peculiarities would not have been considered peculiar in Augusta, Illinois, in the 1880’s, but I have never been there and do not know what it is like. My uncle was unique in Lincoln.
He did not frequent the Elks Club or get involved in heated political arguments, or belong to a foursome at the Country Club, or sing barbershop chords. Or tell stories that began, “There were two Irishmen named Pat and Mike, and Pat says to Mike, he says, ‘Mike …’ ” Or swear. Or drink. The breath of scandal couldn’t get within a mile of him. He had none of the amiable vices, and no friends, so far as I know.
His laugh was unpleasant, and the shoulders of his suit were flecked with dandruff. Where another man, finding himself socially uneasy, would feel in his coat pockets for his pipe or cigarettes, my uncle would take out his penknife and pare his fingernails. There was also something odd about his shoes: They turned up at the end, in a way that nobody else’s did, and you could see the shape of his toes through the leather. He appeared to be perfectly satisfied with his own conduct, and did not hesitate to tell other people what he thought of theirs. They were invariably polite to him, realizing, perhaps, how cut off he was by the narrowness of his outlook. He remained in the same job for forty or fifty years. If he’d been incompetent he’d doubtless have been fired; and it must have been his unfortunate personality that kept him from being promoted.
My uncle did not invent the standards by which he so harshly judged people; they came down to him intact from the chief founder of the Disciples of Christ. Alexander Campbell’s idea of the works of the Devil may have been devoid of subtlety and unduly strait-laced and in some respects even absurd, but it was shared by a good number of his contemporaries. My uncle did not have this excuse; nor was he well-educated or blessed with anything like the intelligence of the founders of his church. He was a dutiful son to his own parents, and I never knew him to be disagreeable to my grandmother, though he was, on occasion, very disagreeable to my father and my Aunt Bert. He and my Aunt Maybel bickered continually about questions of fact—about whether it was on Tuesday or Wednesday that it rained. I was so accustomed to this it didn’t occur to me (and anyway, it isn’t the sort of thing children think of) that below the surface of the argument there was a more serious incompatibility. Though he called her “Babe,” it appears, from things my father said over the years, that they did not like each other and that toward the end of their life together the dislike turned to hatred. I would be tempted now to conclude that the incompatibility was sexual except that it was a period in which the very idea of sexual compatibility was unthinkable, and people who indulged in it sooner or later had to leave town.
They made a curious-looking couple. My aunt had a grey streak running through her dark hair, which, like my grandmother, she wore in a pompadour. At home she went around in a not always clean Mother Hubbard. When she went out she was corseted in such a way as to give her a small waist and a high shelf-like bust, as it was called in those days. My uncle may have been responsible for this, since he insisted on going into the fitting room with her. I never see pictures of the women in Minoan wall paintings without thinking of my aunt. When they sold their horse and bought a Dodge sedan, she drove the car as if she was still driving a carriage and the steering wheel was the reins. She also habitually repeated remarks that didn’t put any great strain on the hearer’s understanding, as if repetition was a form of emphasis. Which it is, of course. But what was it she wanted to emphasize when she said, “I happened to look out of the window and saw you coming up the steps. I say I saw you coming up the steps”?
When I try to conjure up her face, the grim disapproving look has a tendency to shade off into a defensive expression, as if she were really a frightened woman. But is this something I am making up, because of the softening influence of time?
My aunt took very good care of my grandmother, but I sometimes heard a note of irritation in their voices when they spoke to each other—probably no more than the patient exasperation of two grown women shut up in the same house, with no one else’s shortcomings to occupy their minds.
The outside world impinged so lightly on Lincoln in those days, and people had little to amuse them but the drama of personal relationships. Probably it was not altogether without malice that some woman—I don’t remember her name and I hardly knew her—praised my Aunt Maybel to my mother’s sister. It is not easy for children to maneuver grown-ups into a corner where they either have to speak the truth or lie, and I waited alertly for what my Aunt Annette would say. There was a long pause, and then she answered, without enthusiasm, “Mrs. Coffman is very frugal.”
I realized that it was the worst thing you could say about anybody—and all within the bounds of politeness!
Perhaps they had to be frugal (as distinct from just being careful about money) but I doubt it. They kept a horse and carriage, and their house was not mortgaged, and they both owned stocks and bonds, and I think if they’d been really hard up, I’d have heard about it. What I remember, instead, is my father and mother smiling over the fact that when my aunt and uncle went to Augusta for three days they had a man come and turn off the electricity and the gas.
The three days a week that my uncle was on the road, my aunt and my grandmother ate bread and jelly for lunch, and bread and gravy for supper. When he got home they had meat again. Because my aunt had built the house with her money, she charged my uncle rent. She typed his business correspondence using two fingers and was paid at the going rate, and with the money she earned over the years she allowed herself several impressive extravagances. She bought a chest of table silver—twenty-four of everything, with her monogram. And she had a velvet dress made for herself. It took ten yards of the finest quality of black velvet.
When the state agents of the New York Underwriters met at some spa, my aunt invariably won the ladies’ hammering contest. My uncle had taught her to drive a nail with short steady strokes instead of big feminine wildly aimed ones, and she never met her match.
My aunt left a self-portrait in the form of a travel diary that is more revealing than anything I could write about her. When my uncle went to the annual convention of the special agents of his insurance company, she always went with him. I think he needed her for protection, anywhere but in the ambiance of the Christian Church. And my aunt felt that she owed it to posterity to keep a record of what happened to her when she left home.
Talent is handed down in pieces, like other family traits, and unfortunately the pieces are not always in useful combinations. My father was naturally musical but he had no musical taste; that is to say, if he had been forced to sit through Don Giovanni or Die Schöne Müllerin, he would have acknowledged that they had a right to exist, and compared them unfavorably to Rodgers and Hammerstein. My Aunt Bert loved to read, but my Aunt Maybel got the literary ability. She is a master of the anticlimax, not all the humor is unintentional, and the style shows an affinity with Ring Lardner. Internal evidence suggests that this particular journey took place in the late winter of 1917.
OUR THIRD TRIP TO NEW YORK
We left Sunday a.m. at 7:50 on the C. & A. R.R. for Chicago about forty minutes late, had a nice ride to Chicago, met Bert in the LaSalle Hotel and had dinner with her and we visited at the Hotel on the Messna* until 4:30 p.m. Very cold in Chicago such a terrible penetrating wind.
Went to Station at 5:00 p.m. and met the bunch waiting for our Special Car over the Pennsylvania R.R. and to my surprise I was the only lady in the bunch so they said they would have to adopt me as I was sure a good sport to go with that bunch alone. There was however one other lady in the car. We left at 5:30 p.m. a little late, supper was the first thing for all and we made for the dining car with a grand rush. No meats under a dollar, potatoes twenty-five cents, and all of us had strawberry shortcake with whipped cream at forty cents. We sure felt like we were eating money, Oh yes, bread and butter ten
cents and a cup of coffee, individual coffee pot or tea either twenty cents. After supper we went back to our car where we found the Porter making up the berths, Paul visited with the men and as the motion of the car made me sea sick I retired at 8:30 p.m. to be jostled all night like the rest as we all put in one horrid night, no one resting but Mr. Tanner and the strange lady, so Tanner got it from everybody about his selection of a smooth railroad, we lost time all the way.
Up at 8:00 a.m. Tuesday† and we had a dish of strawberries forty cents and toast fifteen cents and cakes fifteen cents, Paul had coffee but only had black tea so I drank water in preference.
Played cribbage with Mr. Tanner and he beat me two out of three games. Then Paul and I played pinochle and I beat him two out of three games, we had been over this road before so the scenery was not quite so interesting as the first time.
Our dinner again showed the high cost of living. After dinner we tried a three handed game of Pinochle with Mr. Knop of Dakota and I won all of them.
The meals were only fair but the prices terrible, everybody had strawberries for supper again, expected to have supper in New York but our train was about three hours late and had part of our special fares refunded upon reaching New York City.
Conjestion or something wrong with Taxies when we reached New York, but the McAlpin Hotel being only a short distance we walked and the men had to wait awhile as there were about one thousand to take Taxies and then ran a bluff and got some one else car and made the Chauffer take them on when he discovered his mistake.*
We were soon settled in our room at the McAlpin on the nineteenth floor, nice room with a bath and beautiful Mahagony furniture but no rocking chairs in the Hotel or not in any of the rooms we have ever had there and you know how Maybel enjoys them, it would just suit Blossom.
It was too late for a theatre so we went out to a Film show near the hotel at twenty-five cents and it was fair, it was too cold to rubber any so we went back to the Hotel in a hurry and retired shortly it being 12 a.m., had a good nights rest and up at 7 a.m. Tuesday a.m. had baths and then breakfast at Child’s Restaurant where things were not quite so dear but served in very small quantities if your turn ever comes. Paul took the elevated to the office and although cold I spent the a.m. looking at the beautifully trimmed windows of the stores, then walked up to Forty-Third Street about nine blocks to locate the Drug Store and theatre ticket office where you get your tickets for the theatres at half price which Mrs. Dux introduced me to last year. Back to Child’s for my lunch alone and to the room and was so tired and cold, took a nap, then wrote Post Cards to my Sunday School Class, several friends and some of the family, also a letter to Mother Maxwell, Paul having mailed cards to both Mothers in Chicago, also when we reached New York, after which I dressed for dinner by the time Paul came back at 5:30 p.m.
We went to the Knickerbocker Hotel to dinner, both of us had a turkey order and when it came it was hardly enough for one,* after dinner we went into the parlor and listened to the music, believe it was the largest room I have ever been in used for that purpose, there must have been fifty people in there and could hardly notice anyone was in the room we occupied so little space, beautiful paintings adorned the walls and many beautiful ferns in the room, all were waiting for someone to take to dinner and two quite large dining rooms were quite well filled, I went to the bathroom and to my astonishment I saw two splendidly dressed women I cannot call them ladies, in there smoking cigarettes, it was bad enough to see nearly every couple that comes in the dining room order drinks the first thing but to see them smoking looks even worse. Shortly we went to the theatre and saw “For the love of Mike”, it was a musical farce and not very good but beautiful costumes. Retired about 11:45 p.m. and rested well until 7 a.m.
Went down Broadway to Gunter’s for Breakfast and on to Grey’s Drug Store for theatre tickets to “Cheating Cheaters”, for Wednesday night, it was pretty good, another farce with a woman detective for the hero.
I spent the day again looking around through the stores, Altman’s is one of the modern stores and very substantial, I purchased a waist there, they do not have their name on their store as people seeing the store will investigate and find out for themselves. Mr. Altman died a short time ago and left bequests to many of his clerks he had had for a long time several received more than $2000. They said he did not raise salaries so often but was always doing something for his employees and seemed to get the very best out of them for his treatment.
Wednesday afternoon I went to Matinee alone, “Lilac Time”, a drama with Jane Cowl as the leading lady and she was very fine, it was a war piece, or story. I was back to the Hotel ahead of Paul and we went to a swell restaurant, Wallicks, it was one beautiful room, mirrors, and paintings, adorned the walls and it was furnished with gold furniture. I had more turkey and Paul more beefsteak and had to pay the full price but it was the best cooked and served that we had had.
We were in a little earlier and retired about 11:30 p.m. as the theatre was some nearer the Hotel, rested pretty well and up at 7:30 a.m. baths and dressed and to breakfast at Gunters on Broadway. Paul left me to take elevated for office and I wandered down Fifth Avenue, two streets across, as stores do not open until 9 a.m. and close at 5 p.m. That is the street with the swell stores, Vantines, wonderful perfumes, toilet waters, japanese goods of all descriptions, Taylor and Lord one of the finest department stores, Bon Witt & Co. a beautiful dry goods store but on a smaller scale, and so many small shops of every description. Spring was very much in evidence in all the show windows and looked beautiful but the weather on the outside was below zero and warmer things felt better, the newest and most attractive things to me were the hand bags, girdles, and beads, they all ranged in price above ten dollars in fact that would purchase only a very plain one. Had my lunch alone as usual. I was always at the Hotel ahead of Paul so we lost no time in getting out to dinner as everything is soon crowded.
This was Thursday night and it was a bad snowy night, so we had our dinner at the McAlpin where we were staying, and as the theater was a Complimentary from the Company, which included the ladies and we had a long ways to go we took a taxi and they held us up for $1.80 one way. It was the grandest opera house of all and our seats were $3.50 each. “My Century Girl” was the theatre, all spectacular, but gorgeous, it was simply grand, costumes were exquisite so far as they went, the light thrown on the stage were surely beyond anything I ever saw. It was still snowing so we invited the Canadian delegate and his wife to ride back with us to McAlpin and it was quite late or rather early.
We were up at 7 a.m. and I went to office with Paul, they were all very nice to me. Mr. A. R. Stoddart invited me to sit in his private office and I had quite a nice visit with him, also Mr. Bennett, White, and others and saw quite a number of the delegates who came East with us, all were busy men with their personal troubles concerning their own field of work. Mr. Grannatt went to lunch with us and we took a little walk and then back to the office awhile. When Paul was through we went to Wanamakers to look around but both of us were so tired I purchased a pair of Golf shoes and we walked up Broadway to the Hotel, seeing as we went, it was about twenty-five blocks, but that is the way to see the city, we past the Flat Ion [sic] building and were almost by it when I remarked to Paul, I did not see that it was so windy, and so many had told me that a lady had to almost hold her skirts down or they would be over her head so strong a wind all of the time, when my hat went sailing down the street so I found the wind. When we reached the Hotel we laid down and slept about an hour and both felt better, you see that such late hours were hard on us not being used to such. Time was too precious to lose much so soon dressed and dined at a restaurant as every place was full and we wanted to go to the Hippodrome, it also was spectacular but poor however we saw the roller and ice skating that I had heard so much about, their costumes were also beautiful and several hundred people on stage at once, which was also the case at the Century. Also Iren Kellerman* swiming.
Up at
7:30 a.m. packed and had breakfast and left over Michigan Central R.R. for Buffalo, a pretty ride along the Hudson River, but it was frozen over much of the way, they wanted us to take a boat but those who did said they had to constantly break the ice to get through. Rode all day and reached Buffalo about 8:30 p.m. settled in our room at the Statler and rushed out to see what we could of the business district, but found everything closed and looked quite small and shabby after those beautiful stores of New York.
Hotel Statler is a very nice Hotel although small but good service, their dining room represents a cave and is very artistic, lighted with unique lanterns. There is also a Statler in Detroit much larger and they are building one at the present time in St. Louis & N.Y.
After a good nights rest we took the train at 7:55 a.m. to Detroit, it was snowing hard when we left Buffalo. When we reached Niagara Falls, they stopped the train and let us get off for five minutes to see what we could of the Falls and they are wonderful but not as nice as when you go to them and are nearer. We were side tracked for all freights as passenger trains did not count when a freight was in sight and I think that every time we wished to see something in particular there was one passing us to shut out our view.…
They went on to Detroit, and saw a Japanese lady with a parrot that looked just like Polly, but I think we might as well take leave of them here, with the freight cars blocking the view, like a sequence from an old Mack Sennett comedy. They were, after all, of the same period.
* Mezzanine, perhaps?
† She means Monday.
* Who had to wait and who pinched somebody’s car and where the Chauffer took them and what he said when he discovered his mistake, the reader will have to decide for himself; it’s beyond me.
* Big eaters, both of them.
* She means Annette Kellerman, I expect.
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