“Weekends, evenings, lulls at the office. Sarah has been very supportive.”
“How come she’s never mentioned it to me?”
“Because,” answered Sarah as she reentered from the kitchen, “I wasn’t sure how serious Walter was. At first I thought it might just be a hobby, a diversion from the stress of being a lawyer. But he has written a whole play, Mary. I’m so proud of my Walter.” She hugged him and he smiled. “Sophie will be out with dinner in a couple of minutes.” Then she sat.
“You know, Walter, you’re not the first lawyer I’ve met who wants to be a writer.”
“I don’t doubt it. We constantly have to write long, boring briefs, and I crave to write something more entertaining…as I have.” He pointed to the play. “I have tried and I don’t really have any access to the theater crowd. Do you think you could give it to Lillian Russell?”
“I might be able to, but I can’t guarantee she’ll actually read it. Lip service is the preferred form of communication in that profession.”
“The good ol’ verbal massage. I encounter a decent amount of it in the legal world, too. Still, I’d feel much better if she had it rather than not.”
“It makes sense. Her not having it gives you no chance at all. I’ll try my best. Hopefully, I won’t have to watch her and Diamond Jim Brady plow through another meal.”
“Are the rumors true about their eating habits?” asked Sarah.
“And then some.” She put the play in a slot on the side of her pocketbook. “I sincerely hope that you have other copies. I don’t want to be responsible for the loss of another play.”
Walter assured her that he did as Sophie entered with the beginning of dinner: a potato-leek soup. As Mary took her first taste, she wondered how Walter, who was not used to any kind of rejection, would respond to his play being turned down by Lillian Russell, or the most probable reaction: complete silence.
* * *
Mary spent most of Saturday alone with Josie. That didn’t stop her from thinking about the murder and how she could find Harvey Iglehart. Nothing came to mind as to how she could track him down, and by that evening, when Josie was fast asleep, she reasoned she might as well go to the Casino Theatre on Broadway and see if she could catch Lillian Russell after the show so she could complete her obligation to Walter. She called Sean, hoping he was home. He was and he soon came over to watch Josie.
“I was surprised and delighted that you were free on a Saturday night.”
“It was between you and Mom.”
“And I was the lesser of two evils?”
“She wanted me to come to the butcher shop and witness some man slice up an animal. Not exactly what I would call preferred Saturday night entertainment.”
“She asked me to do the same thing one afternoon. When is she going to let it seep into her brain that we want nothing to do with that business?”
“Mary, we are talking about Mom.”
She shook her head. “She’s more relentless than a bull charging a red cape.”
“Except the bull learns his lesson or dies. Nothing will ever stop Mom.”
“I guess it’s about time we learned to live with the cards we were dealt.” They looked at each other, nodded, and shrugged. “Anyhow, when I mentioned it was surprising you were free on a Saturday, I meant Linda. I hope there’s nothing wrong between you two.”
“We’re fine. I was supposed to see Michael Flaherty tonight.”
“I remember Michael. You trained with him at Second Street Station.”
“He’s now working the Tenderloin District. It was something we had set up weeks ago. You know, old buddies, have a drink, catch up, that sort of thing. But he canceled right before you and Mom called.”
“Lucky my only competition was Mom. Now I get to do a favor for a friend, and you have the honor of spending the evening with Josie.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my niece, but she’s not my idea of a perfect Saturday night date.”
“And Michael Flaherty is?”
“You’ve got a point there, sis.”
“Why did he cancel? I hope he’s okay.”
“He’s fine. It’s just that—” Sean stopped, hesitant to go on.
Mary noticed immediately. “Come on, Sean, out with it.”
“Mary, I can’t keep telling you these things. One of these days, someone’s going to notice and I’ll get fired. And I like my job. I really like it.”
“Of course, you realize neither of us is leaving this apartment until you tell me.” Mary sat down at Harper’s desk and folded her arms.
“I know,” said a resigned Sean as he sat down on the couch. He figured she was going to coax it out of him sooner or later (she always did), and sooner would be less annoying.
Sean told her that everyone in the Tenderloin District had been called into work that night. Herbert Barnum Seeley was throwing a bachelor party for his brother, Clinton, at Sherry’s restaurant. There were a lot of rumors about nude women and improper behavior, and Captain Chapman had decided to raid it.
Mary shrugged. “Why should I care if some pampered rich boys get their party raided?”
“Chapman has it out for Roosevelt, and he has it on good authority that Roosevelt is supposed to be there. He figures a scandal like this will be enough to get rid of him.”
Mary immediately got to her feet and headed for the door. “I have to go.”
“Mary, no one can know I told you. It can’t be traced back to me.”
Mary had heard but she didn’t answer. She was already out the door. Sean stared after her for a moment and sighed. Josie began to cry, and he made his way to the bedroom to tend to his niece.
11
Mary knew Teddy Roosevelt and liked him. He was for women’s rights and for cleaning up a corrupt New York. She and Harper had been introduced to him by Harper’s muckraker friend Jacob Riis. The three of them and Senator Henry Cabot Lodge had spent time in Roosevelt’s hotel suite trying to convince him to take the job of president of the board of police commissioners. Later, Mary had made her own personal plea. She liked to think that maybe, just maybe, she’d had something to do with his taking the job. But that was irrelevant at the moment. What she had to do was to make sure he stayed in the job. The city needed him.
On the way to Roosevelt’s office, she realized it was already quite late for a working day and being Saturday, it was very late. It would be a lot quicker if she just called him. She stepped into a local restaurant where she knew the owner. He was gracious enough to allow her to make a call. Roosevelt’s secretary answered the phone.
“I’m so glad I caught you,” Mary said breathlessly. “I’m Mary Handley, a friend of Mr. Roosevelt’s, and I have some very important information to give him.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Roosevelt’s in a meeting now and he gave me strict orders he’s not to be disturbed.”
“This is a very urgent matter. I’m on my way down to his office now. I know it’s Saturday night but tell him to wait for me. Please, this is of the utmost importance.” She immediately hung up and left the restaurant to catch her train.
When Mary got to police headquarters at 300 Mulberry Street, it was nine o’clock, well after hours, and most of the building was empty. She rushed up the stairs to Roosevelt’s office, where she found his secretary getting ready to leave.
“Thank God you’re working so late.”
“Thank God for whom? Certainly not my family.”
“I’m Mary Handley. We spoke on the phone. May I see Mr. Roosevelt?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Handley. Mr. Roosevelt is gone for the day.”
Mary was incredulous. “Really? Did you give him my message?”
There was a slight hesitation. “Why yes, of course.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Miss
Handley, I—”
“I told you how important it was. Why didn’t you give it to him?”
Relenting, she sighed. “The fact is, he wasn’t here when you called either. He has always instructed me that if I don’t know the person to take down the number and he’ll decide if he will respond when he gets in.”
“You didn’t ask for my number.”
“You didn’t give me a chance.”
“Nevertheless, this is urgent. Please call him at home now.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Maybe you don’t realize just how important this is. It could mean his job and consequently yours.”
The secretary immediately picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello, this is Barbara. I’m so, so sorry to bother you at this hour but may I speak to Mr. Roosevelt, please?…Oh, I see. Thank you.” She hung up and turned to Mary. “He’s not there. Went to some event.”
Mary knew the exact event, and she immediately rushed out.
* * *
Captain Chapman was charging through his station house like a madman. “Davis! Where the hell is Davis?” he screamed. Davis was his driver and his good-luck charm. He was embarrassed about being superstitious, but facts were facts. Whenever Davis drove him on a raid, everything worked out well. When he didn’t, the results ranged between mediocre and disastrous. That night was too important. Even mediocre was unacceptable. He passed detective Michael Flaherty’s office and popped his head in. “Have you seen Davis?”
“No, sir.”
“Where the hell is he? He knew he had to be here.”
“He might be at home, sir.”
“At home!” screamed the outraged Chapman.
“I heard he was sick.”
“Sick, huh? Call Davis and tell him that I don’t care if he’s dead, I expect his carcass here. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
As Flaherty reached for the phone, Chapman continued his diatribe. “And tell him I know where he lives and how far it is from here. If he’s not here within the hour, he can kiss his job goodbye.”
Chapman didn’t really mean that. After all, Davis was his good-luck charm. However, he needed to light a fire under the man. He was convinced that with Davis at the reins there would be no screwups. Chapman continued down the hall, grunting and muttering to himself.
* * *
When Mary got to Sherry’s restaurant, her “buddy” Roger was in his spot by the entrance. She knew that if she asked to see Teddy Roosevelt, who was currently in a private bachelor party at the restaurant—meaning no women allowed—he would show her the door. However, she did have another tack that she thought might work.
“Hello, Roger, how are you this evening?”
“I’m fine, Miss Handley. Thank you for asking.” He remembered her name. That was a good sign.
“As you know, I am a friend of Jim Brady and Lillian Russell.”
“How could I forget?”
“Diamond Jim had told me he was attending a function at your restaurant this evening.”
“That he is, along with a good percentage of—” He paused, grasping for a term.
“New York’s elite,” Mary offered.
“I detest the word ‘elite.’ It evokes images of arrogance and snobbery. I’m much more partial to ‘preferred class.’ It’s infinitely kinder.”
Mary didn’t see how it was kinder nor any less arrogant or snobby, but debating the issue would be counterproductive. “Excellent point. I know this evening’s event is all male, a bachelor party for Clinton Barnum Seeley. I’m obviously not allowed inside, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell Diamond Jim I need to speak with him for a very brief moment. It’s important.”
“I can’t, Miss Handley. I’ve been given strict orders not to interrupt for any reason.”
“That’s problematic. You see, the information I have for him would help him avoid an impending financial disaster, one that he has to act upon immediately or face ruin.”
“I don’t know. That does sound a bit dramatic.” He stared at her, questioning the veracity of her statement.
“You’re entitled to your opinion. My opinion is that I don’t think you’d like to face Diamond Jim after he discovers you’re the one who prevented him from receiving this news in a timely fashion.” Mary’s words gave Roger pause. She then continued, “It’s your choice: break a minor rule or play a major role in the financial devastation of one of New York’s golden boys.”
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Roger said begrudgingly. “But before I do, I want to go on record that I find you quite annoying, Miss Handley.”
She smiled at him. “You’re not alone.”
Roger was about to utter a nasty retort, but instead he left in a snit, heading for the private dining room. Not too long after that Roger emerged with Diamond Jim. Mary took him aside as Roger returned to his post in the front.
“Please excuse me for interrupting your party, Mr. Brady—”
“Jim, and don’t be concerned in the slightest, Mary. They serve such paltry portions at these things. Henry Poor and Charley Gibson kindly donated their meals to me and I’m still hungry.”
Mary was sure the meals were ample for men with normal appetites, and that could hardly be applied to Diamond Jim. But she wasn’t there to discuss consumption habits.
“The reason I asked to speak with you—”
“Roger mentioned something about financial ruin? I don’t see how that can possibly—”
“I sincerely apologize. The truth is I know absolutely nothing about your finances. But there is a crucial matter I need to discuss with you and Roger was being—well, Roger.”
“Yes, he does have a way of being…that.”
“The crucial matter has nothing to do with you, but I would greatly appreciate your help.”
“What is it?”
“First, I have to ask you—what’s your opinion of Teddy Roosevelt?”
* * *
Exotic dancer Little Egypt was entertaining the “boys” at Clinton Barnum Seeley’s bachelor party. She had gained fame by performing to sold-out crowds at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair and was just the kind of attraction that would make a bachelor party a rousing success. Hiring her was Stanford White’s brainstorm, and Herbert Barnum Seeley had jumped on board with it. They decided to make one adjustment to her performance. Most of the invitees to the party were men of wealth who had done extensive traveling throughout the world. Chances were that most of them had seen a belly dance or two in their lives, and White had always specialized in offering not only something different but also something shocking.
“That’s impossible!” Seeley had said in response to White’s suggestion.
“ ‘Impossible’ is a relative term. Relative, that is, to how much money one is willing to pay. And as far as I can see, that has never been a stumbling block for you.”
Seeley followed White’s advice and was delighted to discover he was right. It was a brief negotiation that basically consisted of the question, “How much would you charge to…” As a result, Little Egypt had agreed to dance nude, but with one caveat: only from the waist down. Seeley was extremely content with that arrangement.
Little Egypt was more than a hit. She was a sensation. As she glided across the room shaking and gyrating, she had these men of high social position and sophisticated tastes hootin’ and hollerin’ like farm boys at their first county fair. But halfway through her dance, all hell broke loose.
Chapman came barging in, followed by a score of police officers. “Hate to break up your party, fellas, but we don’t allow disgusting displays of indecency in my part of town.”
Chapman’s declaration was met with laughter by the more inebriated of the group. Those who had even a modicum of control stifled that instinct. It was amusing, though, that the man who was paid
handsomely to look the other way in the Tenderloin District, where bordellos and gambling houses were commonplace, would assume such a high moral stance. They knew he was posturing but didn’t know why.
As the police searched the room, White took off his jacket and covered Little Egypt with it, but the police didn’t appear to be interested in her. As each officer came back toward Chapman, he’d whisper, “Where’s Roosevelt? Did you see him? Maybe he’s under a table,” etc. As it became clear Roosevelt wasn’t there, the anger in Chapman kept building. Finally, he looked at White, the man who had given him the tip that Roosevelt was going to be there. White shrugged and Chapman finally exploded.
“Goddamn it!” he shouted.
Diamond Jim was enjoying what he considered to be the evening’s entertainment. He leaned in toward Chapman and said, “Though I personally have no problem with your language, Captain, please try to remember there’s a lady present.” He nodded toward Little Egypt.
Chapman’s frustration reached new heights. His first thought was that he was going to fire Davis first thing in the morning for not showing up. He quickly altered it to docking his pay. Davis was his lucky charm. Chapman looked around the room. He had to do something to save face.
He approached Herbert Barnum Seeley. “Herbert Barnum Seeley, you’re under arrest for promoting lewd and lascivious behavior.”
“Surely you’re joking,” responded Seeley.
“Does this look like I’m joking?” Chapman said as he slapped handcuffs on Seeley. Seeley looked to White, who nodded his head and raised his right hand slightly as if to say, Relax. Nothing’s going to happen.
Diamond Jim, who was having too much fun to stay silent, approached Seeley. “Great party, Herbert. Next time, though, might I suggest you serve larger portions?”
Seeley sighed as Chapman led him out, followed by the other officers.
* * *
It was one thirty A.M. on Sunday morning when Roosevelt answered the phone on his desk in his library at home. “Hello….Yes, Bob, it’s me….No, don’t worry. I was up. What is it?…Really?…Really?…Arrested Seeley, did he? Interesting. Well, I guess we’ll have to see how this whole thing is going to wash out. Looks like Chapman might have made himself some powerful enemies today….Good night, Bob, and thanks for calling. Never hesitate.” He hung up and turned to Mary, who was sitting on the couch with a cognac in her hand.
Near Prospect Park Page 9