by Jim Wetton
We held our breath and prayed our prayers for over a year, Caroline. God had other plans, my dear. As hard as that is to say, God had other plans.
Lizzy took a sip of coffee. She listened to the quietness of her home, something she wasn’t used to. She could hear car horns booming outside and engines backfiring, which still crawled up her spine. She thought of Caroline’s last moments.
I bet she was up on the upper deck looking over at the lush greenery of Ireland. If she had wings, she’d probably have flown over there to finally land at her dream destination. I just know that’s where she would have been, on the left side of the ship looking at Ireland, not on the right side looking at a torpedo coming towards her. No, she would have never passed up a chance to see Ireland, and thank God for that.
Caroline’s body was never found, but Lizzy held it in her heart that her remains were scattered on the Irish shore, just the way she’d have liked them to be.
* * * *
Lizzy poured out her cold cup of coffee and poured another. She walked outside to her porch and placed the cup on a small table shaded by an elm tree. For November, the weather was quite comfortable. The ground squirrels scurried about as if spring was in the air, not a thought that winter was only a month or so away.
She took a sip as she sat and opened up the paper again.
WILSON’S FIRST TERM WAS MARKED BY AN ARRAY OF POPULAR PROGESSIVE LEGISLATION THAT LEFT HIM WELL Positioned TO WIN A SECOND TERM. HE’D CREATED THE FEDERAL RESERVE SYSTEM IN ORDER TO MOBILIZE BANKING RESERVES.
WILSON DID WELL ATTRACTING DEFECTORS FROM THE DISINTEGRATING BULL MOOSE PARTY AND EVEN CONVINCED HIS PREVIOUS NEMESIS, FORMER PRESIDENT THEODORE ROOSEVELT, TO TURN DOWN THE BULL MOOSE PARTY’S NOMINATION TO RUN.
“Oh, if you weren’t a dear friend’s husband, I’d march right over to your office and tell you a thing or two about messing with my friend, Bully Roosevelt; yes, I would!”
Lizzy took another sip and breathed in slowly. She could feel herself getting red and knew that for her own sake, she’d better calm herself down.
Ever since Caroline’s death, Lizzy held a grand distaste for the current president. Her anger boiled over that the man didn’t immediately declare war on Germany over the sinking of the Lusitania. If it wasn’t for the calming words from Edith, Lizzy would have marched right over to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and given the man a piece of her mind. Yes, Edith did restrain me; that’s for sure. What she sees in that man, well, I just . . . well, I’ll leave it at that.
Edith and Woodrow Wilson were married in December 1915. Nellie was her maid of honor while Molly Brown, Hannah, Bonnie and even Nancy Lee were all in her bridal party. Wilson had a total of six men in his wedding party. Edith wanted the party to be offset by one, that one would always be left open for Caroline.
For the first nine months, Edith rarely visited as she had in the past, but recently she’d been opening up more, which gave great hope to Lizzy.
As well as the new Wilson couple was doing, theirs wasn’t the only wedding that had taken place. In the summer of ’15, Hannah had met a young man and immediately had fallen in love. Paul Ambrose was a tall man of over six feet. He was five years older than Hannah and well established in the selling of stocks and bonds. He had thick, wavy, jet-black hair and deep blue eyes that all the girls around Hannah ogled over. Lizzy’s only concern was that Paul was a broker which meant they’d eventually be moving to New York City. That fact alone brought back her memories of ’93 and the loss of Martin, James and his dear fiancée. Doing her best to suppress those horrific memories, Lizzy was able to enjoy the day for what it was, a day to celebrate the marriage of her first granddaughter. Hannah and Paul’s wedding was a joyous moment, not only for the bride and groom, but also for Nellie, who was watching her firstborn getting married. Lizzy watched her daughter’s eyes fill with tears.
Throughout the wedding day, Lizzy drifted from the present to the past and back again. She couldn’t have been happier for her granddaughter and was even more happy for her daughter. She knew all too well what it felt like to watch a daughter getting married. She reflected on her own wedding so long ago. It had started out as a dark and gloomy day as she sat, talked and cried with her father as the rain pelted the porch roof above them. She remembered the long talk they had shared before the sun peeked through and she had to kiss him goodbye so she could get herself ready.
She thought of Martin and couldn’t believe that he’d been gone now for twenty-two years. She looked at all the younger women around her and how her age had crept up on her like a thief in the night. She excused herself and walked away from the reception and to a small broken-down bridge that spanned a gurgling creek behind the church.
Lizzy studied the bridge and chose wisely not to cross it. She instead found a large stump next to the creek. She wiped it down with her handkerchief and sat down. The noise and laughter in the distance made her smile as she thought about where she was and what was left for her to do.
The movement of the creek with its waters circulating among the pebbles and stones sent her mind into a slumber of calming memories.
Lizzy breathed in deep, thinking that she was the last living original Monroe and at seventy-two, she knew that would also soon come to an end. She thought of her own family: Martin, William, James, Mary Elizabeth and Nellie. She thought of how Nellie was now like her, the sole survivor of her generation.
She listened to the laughter of the youngsters at the wedding reception and thought of her grandchildren. John and Andrew, both killed in San Francisco. Of Hannah and now Paul, and of Bonnie, Teddy and Nancy Lee. She thought of Adeline and wondered with a smile if she too would become the next addition to the Monroe family.
Lizzy watched a leaf as it drifted and bounced from rock to rock and then disappeared farther down the creek. She shifted on her stump and adjusted the hem of her dress so it would stay as dry as practical. She followed the flow of the creek. Back and forth, from one side of the bank to the other, until it sent her into a kind of trance that captivated her inner soul.
* * * *
“And what is that next move, Lizzy?” she asked herself days later, after the wedding was but a wonderful memory.
The critters on the porch and the birds above her couldn’t answer her. Her trip down her own recent memory lane came up empty except for the fact that she knew that she’d lost a lot of loved ones. She’d also seen a lot of youngsters coming up the ranks, which made her smile.
“But, will my girls ever have the chance to let their voices be heard?” Lizzy slammed her coffee cup onto the patio’s side table with a loud thud. She exhaled hard, her nostrils flared in anger at the thought of how long it’d taken her to fulfill her great-grandmother’s wishes. She picked up the cup and took another sip. She looked into the cup at the swirling fluid and her rippling reflection looking back at her.
“I’m old!!!” Lizzy yelled, not caring who heard her. “I can’t do this anymore; I’m sorry, I can’t do it!”
“You may be old, but you’re not dead, so get over it!”
Lizzy, shocked at the sound, stood straight up from her chair, startled by the unfamiliar voice coming from behind her home.
She attempted to stand but collapsed back in her chair. The best she could do was to crook her neck and listen. “Wh . . . who’s there?” she stuttered.
“Never mind who I am, lady. I know who you are; I’ve watched your family for years. Get past your pity party and do what you’ve all been trying to do. Just do it, gosh damn it all; just do it, before it’s too late!”
“Too late?”
Lizzy turned her head and raised an ear. Nothing.
Hmmmm, how odd. Lizzy looked around her to see if some mystery person would jump out of the woodwork or something. Nothing. That was so very odd, but hey, the gent’s right. I have fallen into a pity party.
Doing her best to unwrinkle the crumpled mess of a newspaper, Lizzy began to read more of the day’s e
vents.
WILSON WAS RE-NOMINATED AFTER HIS SUCCESS IN PROHIBITING CHILD LABOR, RAISING INCOME AND INHERITANCE TAXES AND MANDATING AN EIGHT-HOUR WORKDAY.
DESPITE ALL OF THESE GESTURES FOR RE-ELECTION, IT IS THE BELIEF OF THIS PAPER THAT THE PRESIDENT WON HIS ELECTION IN ’12 DUE ONLY TO THE IMPLOSION OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY. PLATFORM TO PLATFORM, WILSON NEVER SHOULD HAVE WON. THE REPUBLICANS BROKE INTO THREE DIVISIONS AND GAVE THE ELECTION TO THE DEMOCRATS, THUS GIVING IT TO WILSON. TEDDY ROOSEVELT HAS AND WILL ALWAYS BE THE BETTER LEADER, THE MOST QUALIFIED AND PASSIONATE ADVOCATE FOR THE PEOPLE. WITHOUT TOTAL COMMITMENT FROM THE REPUBLICAN PARTY, NEITHER HE, NOR ANYONE LIKE HIM, WILL EVER BEAT THE DEMOCRATS.
TEDDY ROOSEVELT ACKNOWLEDGED SUCH WHEN HE BOWED OUT OF THE ’16 RACE, EVEN THOUGH HE PASSIONATELY WANTED TO HELP OUT. THIS EDITOR AND THIS PAPER SAY, “KUDOS TO YOU, MISTER FORMER PRESIDENT” AND “SHAME ON YOU, AMERICA.” YOU NOW HAVE A BIGOT, A LIAR AND A MAN WITHOUT THE VALUE OF EQUALITY LIVING IN THE WHITE HOUSE.
OUR NEWLY ELECTED INCUMBENT HAS DECLARED THAT OUR COUNTRY WILL STAY OUT OF EUROPE’S AFFAIRS, DESPITE THE LOSS OF HUNDREDS AT THE HANDS OF THE GERMAN NAVY WITH THE SINKING OF AN INNOCENT MERCHANT SHIP.
THIS ELECTION WAS SO VERY CLOSE. AS DIVIDED AS THIS COUNTRY IS, OUR ELECTION TELLS IT ALL. WE TOO ARE DIVIDED.
Lizzy placed the paper to her left and slowly raised her cup for one last sip. Are we that divided? On what issues? Obviously, the war, but what else?
She looked over at the paper, her left eyebrow raised in thought. She remembered how divided the country was before the Civil War. Now that was divided, for heaven’s sake. Even into the homes where father fought son and brother fought brother. Yes, Lizzy, you saw it firsthand. But. . . .
Lizzy frowned. No, that’s not how I see this country today. We’re not ready to fight each other like back then. We just disagree on a few things, that’s all. She giggled after her last thought. These youngsters today have no idea what it was like in pre-Civil War times. They surely have no idea. She looked down the hall to all the family pictures and scattered spoons. Her mind drifted. Pre-Civil War times, huh? My, oh my, I am getting old!
Lizzy stood and walked over to the mantel. She looked up at the family portrait of her great-grandfather Jacob. His eyes burrowed down into hers as if wanting to tell her something. She looked on the mantel and placed her hand on great-grandmother Hannah’s diary. Lizzy had long ago pulled it out of the cedar chest and placed it on the mantel for all to see. She looked at the cover and its etching:
HANNAH
Lizzy didn’t feel a need to open it. She could recite every page in its entirety. Just having the diary in plain view gave Lizzy a sense that her great-grandmother was always with her and pushing her on. It was Hannah’s writings that fueled Lizzy’s passion to complete what she had started so many years ago. She knew it wasn’t going to be for her to enjoy. All of the fruits of her labor were going to go to future generations. No, I’ll be long dead and buried, but I sure would like to see the day when your wish comes true, I surely would.
Lizzy picked up the diary and kissed it softly before gently placing back on the mantel. “Still got some air in these lungs, Great-grandma, so don’t give up on me just yet, you hear?” Lizzy laughed at herself for talking to a dead woman but brushed it off. “Hey, I’m old; I can get away with this kind of stuff.”
She took one final glance up at Jacob’s portrait then walked back over and picked up the paper. She slowly proceeded to the front porch, though it wasn’t her favorite spot due to all the noise from the street and all. She felt like a change of scenery would do her good. Plus, she knew the back porch became shady at this hour and the front porch still offered some sun.
As she opened up the front door, she was immediately greeted by the sounds of progress, horns and the clickety sounds of car engines. Gotta get some more sun on that back porch. Wouldn’t have to listen to all this racket.
After she placed her cup on a table, she sat, and before she opened her paper, she thought again of her past. The horse and buggy might have been slower, but they were oh, so much quieter. OK, yes, they did make a mess, but nothing like the noise we have now, my God!
She snapped the paper open to the place she last read.
WILSON, WHO WROTE THE DEMOCRATIC PLATFORM HIMSELF, CAMPAIGNED ON THE RECORD OF KEEPING THE UNITED STATES OUT OF EUROPE’S AFFAIRS.
“The coward!”
ALTHOUGH MOST OF HIS CAMPAIGNING WAS DONE USING HIS TRADITIONAL APPROACH—HIS “FRONT PORCH” METHODOLOGY—HIS SUPPORTERS WERE ABLE TO SEND HIS MESSAGE ACROSS THE COUNTRY ENOUGH TO WIN. HE INSISTED THAT IT WAS HIS EFFORTS TO ENCOURAGE THE BLACKS TO VOTE THAT HELPED HIM OVER THE HUMP. HE TOOK GREAT PRIDE IN THE FACT THAT IT WAS HIS “FAIR DEAL” IN 1912 THAT ENSURED THAT THE BLACKS HAD VOTING RIGHTS, DESPITE THE FACT THAT HE ENDORSED SEGREGATION AFTER ATTAINING OFFICE FOR HIS FIRST TERM.
WILSON’S PUSH FOR THE BLACKS WAS NOTED, THOUGH HIS ENDORSEMENT OF SEGREGATION MUTED THAT EFFORT. IT WAS HIS REFUSAL TO SUPPORT A CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT GUARANTEEING WOMEN SUFFRAGE THAT SPLIT THE COUNTRY THE MOST.
THIS EDITOR WANTS TO MAKE IT CRYSTAL CLEAR THAT WILSON’S OPPONENT, CHARLES EVAN HUGHES, RAN ON A FIRM PLATFORM WHICH ENDORSED THE RIGHTS OF ALL WOMEN TO CAST THEIR VOTE. HE CRITICIZED WILSON’S NEUTRALITY WITH THE CONFLICT IN EUROPE AND HIS FAILED EFFORTS TO OVERTHROW THE MILITARY DICTATORSHIP OF VICTORIANO HUERTA IN MEXICO.
Again . . . coward!
HUGHES’ BIGGEST ATTACK, ONE IN WHICH THIS EDITOR AGREES WHOLEHEARTEDLY, WAS THE PRESIDENT’S LACK OF MORAL FIBER. HOW CAN ANY CIVIL INDIVIDUAL ACT AS SWIFTLY AS THIS MAN DID TO REMARRY? IT’S UNFATHOMABLE AND UTTERLY DISGUSTING. IT MAKES THIS EDITOR THINK THAT THE TWO WERE HAVING A FLING LONG BEFORE THE POOR PRIOR FIRST LADY WAS EVEN IN HER GRAVE. HIS NEW WIFE, EDITH GALT WILSON, SHOULD BE ASHAMED AND MUST BE LOOKING FOR A GET-RICH-QUICK SCHEME OUT OF THIS. OBVIOUSLY, SHE TOO HAS THE MORAL UPBRINGING OF A MULE AND NEEDS TO BE KEPT SILENT AND OUT OF THE PUBLIC EYE, JUST TO KEEP SOME SENSE OF DECENCY FLOWING IN OUR NATION’S CAPITAL.
GOOD LUCK, MR. PRESIDENT. YOU HAVE A STEEP HILL TO CLIMB. ALWAYS REMEMBER, ALMOST HALF OF AMERICA IS JUST WAITING FOR YOU TO FALL.
“Good God Almighty!” Lizzy exclaimed loudly. “What a bunch of . . . !”
Lizzy folded up the paper and smacked it on the table in front of her. She shook her head slowly and frowned in disgust.
Granted, I’m no Wilson fan. Teddy would always be my first choice, but he didn’t want it anymore.
A horn honked. Curses could be heard a half-block away and then another longer horn. “Thank God I’ll never learn to drive one of those contraptions.”
She leaned her head back and felt the autumn breeze. She smiled as she looked up into her tree and saw a squirrel jump from limb to limb until it skipped over to the next tree and away from sight.
“Poor Edith,” she said. “This man doesn’t know her like we do.”
Lizzy thought of the article and how poorly it was written. She began to break it down. Keeping the country out of the war . . . coward for not getting justice for Caroline. Pushing for the black vote . . . what about the women’s vote? Not endorsing a constitutional amendment for women’s suffrage . . . again, coward.
“Edith . . . yes, Edith!” Lizzy lunged forward, her mind spinning. “Yes, of course. It’s got to be Edith. We’re going to use our closest and dearest resource: Edith!”
Lizzy began to plan. Her head spun with options. What’s the best way to change the country’s image of woman’s suffrage?
“Change the president’s image on woman’s suffrage!”
How do we go about doing that?
“Meetings with the president!”
How do we get in to have these meetings with the president?
“Edith!” Lizzy rose up from her chair and screamed her friend’s name.
She looked over at the house next to her, quickly realizing that her neighbors were out on their front porches enjoying their morning.
“Hey, I’m old; I can get away wit
h this kind of stuff, OK?”
IV
THE WAR YEARS
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Not Teddy
1917
The lights on the Washington Monument were vibrant and though Lizzy had now been in the same room over a half-dozen times in the past few months, it was this nighttime view that impressed her the most. She’d seldom seen the monument at night, as her favorite sitting spot was far on the opposite side near the Potomac Lagoon, just south of the monument. To see it in its full glory at night would have meant she’d need a ride back home and that was a burden she didn’t want to put on anyone.
This night’s dinner was a selection of prime rib, salmon, baked potato and asparagus with a dessert of vanilla ice cream with a choice of toppings. Lizzy had chosen strawberry.
Soon after the president was sworn in for a second term, Lizzy had reached out to Edith to join her for lunch. Accompanied by her daughter Nellie, Lizzy had laid out her entire strategy. First, it would be more of a meet and greet. Edith would be introducing her husband to a mixture of her friends. They’d decided that the list would include Lizzy, Nellie, Hannah, Bonnie, Molly and Alice Stone-Blackwell. They also agreed to use Caroline’s name as a member that posthumously would have loved to have met the president, being such a close and dear friend of Edith’s.
After the first introduction, Lizzy’s plan was to have subsequent invitations. Some for dinner, some for casual visits for tea.
Lizzy’s plan had been working splendidly thus far, as all the women and the president had become comfortable with one another to the point that most were referring to each other on a first-name basis.
It was on the last of the planned dinners that Lizzy took special notice of the monument she’d grown to love so much. She was sure she’d noticed it all these years but from this viewpoint, she could see the difference in colors in the stones much more than she’d been able to see from her bench on the far side of the lagoon’s south end. She’d been told many times that the change in stone was due to the lapse in time between when Congress first funded its construction and then began funding again. History was always so influenced by politics. Lizzy wondered if that would ever change.