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by Sawyer, Donna Drew


  Though the U.S. had not required passports for its citizens since

  1921, France required expatriates to have one. Charlotte had

  carefully filled out applications for her daughter and grandson

  and sent the hotel courier to expedite their new identification.

  On the paperwork, she made a change that she had wanted

  since the day her daughter eloped with Hank Whitaker.

  The passports with their bright red covers arrived the next

  morning, giving worldwide access to Mrs. Margaret Bennett

  Withers and Mr. Lance Henry Withers. When the three of

  them boarded the French ocean liner, Île de ‘France, for Le Havre in July of 1931, even if Maggie or Lance had wanted to correct

  Charlotte’s final insult to Hank Whitaker, it was too late. By

  changing just a few letters in their surname, and burying the

  man in an unmarked grave, Charlotte had finally managed to

  erase al evidence of Hank Whitaker from the face of the earth.

  144

  • 12 •

  Atlantic Crossing—Summer 1931

  (I)

  The French Line’s SS Île de ’France was the

  trans-Atlantic ocean liner of choice for first-class

  passengers who preferred the intimacy of a smaller

  ship. Charlotte was convinced that with fewer passengers in

  closer quarters, she would disembark with important and valu-

  able acquaintances after their six days at sea.

  Hoping to meet some of the famous passengers she had

  heard were onboard, Charlotte convinced Lance to join her on

  an exploratory tour of the ship. Maggie, claiming exhaustion,

  stayed in their two-stateroom apartment.

  “I’ve heard people say that this is the most beautiful ship

  ever built by the French Line,” Charlotte said, admiring the

  grand foyer that rose four decks high. Lance picked up one of

  the brochures that described the features of the ship.

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  “It says here that all the furniture and art are Art Deco style.”

  “I read about that new style of décor in House Beautiful.”

  “Introduced in France after The Great War,” Lance read.

  “Just like we will be,” Charlotte laughed.

  “Funny,” Lance said then continued his narration of their

  tour from the brochure, “The first-class dining room is the

  largest of any transatlantic ship—three decks high with a grand

  staircase.” Charlotte imagined herself making a grand entrance.

  When they toured the first-class library and salon, Charlotte

  also imagined having intimate conversations there with her

  new, well-connected friends.

  “They have a state-of-the art gymnasium, a bowling alley

  and a shooting gallery. They even have a merry-go-round,”

  Lance marveled.

  “Aren’t you a bit old for that?” Charlotte asked.

  “Maybe not,” Lance said, feeling more playful than he

  had in months.

  “Let’s go up to the sun deck,” Charlotte said, hoping there

  would people she’d want to meet there.

  The sun deck offered a spectacular view of the ship’s dis-

  tinctive red smoke stacks and they arrived just in time to bid

  Lady Liberty goodbye as the ship sailed out of New York har-

  bor. Lance felt excitement displace some of his sorrow, and

  relief dislodge a bit of the resentment he felt toward his father.

  Charlotte is right, he thought, a new identity is just what I needed.

  “Goodbye New York, goodbye United States of America,”

  he said, realizing the momentous change he was making.

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  Provenance: A Novel

  “Good riddance,” Charlotte said into the wind as she turned

  her back on the coastline and looked toward horizon.

  (II)

  Lance had his father’s lean six-foot frame, sandy hair, and

  now the same sadness in his green eyes. In just the past year

  his boyish looks had smoothed out into a handsome elegance

  that belied the fact that he had just turned eighteen. His polite

  manner, a staple of his Richmond upbringing, only enhanced

  his good looks. It took less than a day onboard for other pas-

  sengers, especial y the women, to wonder about the mysterious,

  wel -dressed young man roaming the first class decks and salons.

  Even before his life became someone else’s, Lance was mature

  beyond his years. He’d spent most of his time in the company

  of adults, and never much liked the behavior of his peers. In

  Richmond he had been so focused on the entrepreneurial life,

  eventually running Colonial Enterprises, that he had never

  considered anything else. Now he wasn’t even going to col ege.

  His father’s duplicity had taken all of that from him. He now

  hoped exposure to new people, places and ideas would help him

  find a new purpose in life. Maybe his plan was the same as his

  father’s, just let life happen and hope it did not get ahead of him.

  On the second day of the voyage, after learning that this

  was the young man’s first trip abroad, the steward brought

  Lance several European magazines and newspapers to prepare

  him for what the continent could offer a young American with

  money. The cache included several issues of In Transition, an 147

  Donna Drew Sawyer

  English-language magazine published in France that reviewed

  current art and literature in Paris. The magazines featured the

  work of authors and artists Lance had never encountered in

  conservative Richmond: James Joyce, Pablo Picasso, Gertrude

  Stein, Man Ray, Marcel Duchamp, and others.

  As he sat on the sun deck in the early morning, engrossed

  in the magazines, a woman took the deck chair next to him.

  Looking over at what he was reading, she said,

  “Ah, you had better not let anyone see you reading such

  salacious material, young man. Magazines like that are incon-

  sistent with the quest for ignorance that seems so prevalent at

  home these days. Those are the words and pictures of the Lost

  Generation, ` la génération du feu, s’il vous plait.”

  Lance was not sure if she was providing a warning or a

  reprimand, and the last part, what had she said in French? “The

  lost generation? The general de fue?” he asked, looking around

  to see whom else might be watching him mangle her words.

  “Ah yes, the generation of fire,” the woman said, ignoring

  Lance’s imperfect French. “May I see who is in this issue?”

  She put her hand out, like a teacher collecting contraband

  from a guilty student. Lance complied with the mysterious

  woman’s request.

  While she scanned the magazine, Lance studied her. Her

  large slightly hooded green-grey eyes, upturned nose, ful lips

  and cleft chin conspired to make her stunningly attractive. The

  wind swirling around the deck played with the mound of dark

  curls piled high on her head, succeeding only in extracting a halo

  of wisps which she periodically brushed away with her small

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  gloved hand. She was small in stature like his mother, but there

  was a stylish simplicity about her elegant clothes and simple gold<
br />
  necklace and earrings. Both Maggie and Charlotte overdressed

  to make their wealth obvious and seemed to delight in taking the

  term bejeweled to the extreme. Demitasse, Lance thought as he watched the woman. The word he had only recently learned came

  to mind as he watched her examine the pages of the magazine

  with authority while keeping a running commentary. Strong coffee in a smal , delicately elegant vessel. Years later, when he thought back on their first meeting he would remember how amazingly

  intuitive his first assessment of her had been.

  “Oh my, James Joyce. His books are banned in the United

  States you know. Gertrude Stein, where do I begin with her

  and Alice?” she said in mock disapproval. She fanned the pages

  of the magazine, “Oooh, Picasso and Kandinsky, the work of

  my friends Pablo and Wassily, what do you think?” She held

  up a color photo spread.

  Lance was not sure how to react. “Ma’am, I find it inter-

  esting, but I haven’t had much exposure to art. Maybe you can

  tell me what you think.”

  “Only after we’ve been formal y introduced,” the woman said

  playful y, as she handed the magazine back to Lance. “I am Bel e

  da Costa Greene. You’ll find some of my fondest acquaintances in

  the pages of that magazine, every one of them a proud member

  of the Lost Generation. I love to see someone so young interested

  in the arts at any level. Tell me, who are you young man.”

  “My name is Lance Whit – ers. . . Withers,” Lance said,

  stumbling over his new last name. “Lance Henry Withers. I’m,

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  we’re, my family and I, we’re traveling to Europe, my first trip,”

  he added, awkwardly. Bel e extended her hand and Lance, not

  sure whether to shake it or kiss the back of it, jumped to his feet, took her hand and did both. Bel e was charmed and amused.

  “Do I detect the hint of a southern accent?” she asked.

  Lance, unsure of how to respond, nodded slightly, “I live

  in New York, but my family is from the south,” he lied.

  “So, this is your first trip abroad?” Belle asked. “How

  exciting. This will be, oh my, I’m afraid I have made too many

  crossings to count. Perhaps I can tell you a little of what to

  expect. What are your interests? Literature, art, music, archi-

  tecture, the food—oh, the food in Paris is fantastic! Tell me

  what you’d like to know.”

  “I’d like to know everything, Miss da Costa Greene. Tell

  me first about this Lost Generation of Fire you mentioned,

  and the things this magazine writes about?”

  “First, you must call me Belle. Miss da Costa Greene is

  so formal,” Belle said, flirting.

  “Bel e,” Lance said, liking the name and the woman. “And

  I’m Lance.”

  “Now, that’s better. I love talking about my bohemian

  friends,” Belle said. “It’s a dangerous move to get me started.”

  •

  For the next two hours, she held Lance’s complete attention

  with her tales of expatriate and European artists and writers in

  Paris. Lance had read Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald, and

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  Provenance: A Novel

  here he was talking with a woman who actually knew them.

  Lance had never seen a Picasso or a Matisse. Richmond’s only

  museums were the conservative and narrowly focused Museum

  of the Confederacy and the Virginia Historical Society. Bel e da

  Costa Greene gave Lance a new perspective on the colors and

  the lines that made the images in the magazine richer than his

  initial, shal ow understanding. Bel e told stories about the men

  and women who painted, drew, sculpted, wrote and collected

  art in Paris, enlivened by the city’s politics and patronage as

  well as the liberté, egalité, fraternité that living in France offered.

  Belle and Lance made plans to meet again the next morning

  to continue their conversation.

  On their third day at sea, Belle suggested that her young

  friend dine at her table that evening. Her interest in Lance now

  extended to an education of another kind.

  “There are people joining me tonight that I know you will

  enjoy. They are friends who also love the arts. I think it will be

  nice to have another young gentleman at the table.”

  Belle Greene’s written invitation to dinner arrived at the

  Withers’ cabin before Lance returned from lunch. Maggie had

  once again taken to her bed, so Charlotte received and opened

  the envelope even though it was addressed to Lance. When

  Lance returned to the cabin, she greeted him with, “Who is

  this woman, and why is she inviting you to dinner? Do I know

  who this woman is?”

  “I know who she is,” Lance said, picking up the invita-

  tion from the table where Charlotte had dropped it. “This is

  addressed to me, and you opened it?”

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  Charlotte ignored Lance.

  “Charlotte, why did you open this when it was clearly

  addressed to me?”

  “It doesn’t matter who opened it, you won’t be accepting an

  invitation from a stranger. The wealthy have to be very careful,”

  she added, picking up her cup of tea.

  ”She’s not a stranger to me, Charlotte. I’ve already told

  Miss Greene that I will be dining with her and her friends

  this evening.”

  “Then I will decline on your behalf.”

  “Charlotte, you do not decide who I associate with. Please

  stay out of my business,” Lance said as he took Belle’s note and

  headed to his stateroom.

  “Your business is my business,” Charlotte called after him

  as he closed the door. She was not used to having her authority

  chal enged by her grandson. She always attributed any behavior

  that was inconsistent with the way she wanted him to act to

  his father’s negative influence. Since his death she had taken

  every opportunity to reiterate that point—as well as a great

  deal of satisfaction in confirming she had been right about

  Hank all along.

  Charlotte rang for the steward. Encouraged by a generous

  tip, he was happy to share what he knew about Belle da Costa

  Greene, the powerful librarian for the Pierpont Morgan Library,

  and a bona fide member of New York’s glitterati. The steward

  regaled Charlotte with society page accounts of Belle Greene’s

  visits to the Opera, parties on the moneyed North Shore of

  Long Island, and her access to the wealthy families in New

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  York and abroad. Miss Greene was a frequent trans-Atlantic

  passenger and her many friendships and affairs with artists,

  writers, critics, and patrons in the art capitals of Europe were

  well chronicled. Why have I never heard of this woman before?

  Charlotte wondered. The steward had provided well known facts

  about Belle Greene but Charlotte needed more. An additional

  tip and his patron’s eager attention was all it took to further

  loosen the steward’s tongue and he shared the salacious gossip

  and in
nuendo that people in service always have access to.

  Though Miss Greene claimed that she was from a prominent

  family in Richmond, Virginia, he’d recently heard rumors, wel

  founded, he assured Charlotte, that Belle da Costa Greene

  was really a light-skinned Negro passing for a white woman.

  Charlotte knew Belle da Costa Greene was not from

  Richmond. She knew everyone who was anyone in that city.

  The woman was hiding something and that was useful infor-

  mation. Despite her questions about the woman, Charlotte

  marveled at Belle Greene’s access and independence. Perhaps

  Miss Greene could offer them entre into the world of which

  Charlotte wanted so desperately to be a part.

  Charlotte sent a note regretfully declining Miss Greene’s

  kind invitation, she could not possibly let her grandson dine,

  unescorted, with strangers. Miss Greene replied with under-

  standing and, as Charlotte had hoped, suggested that rather

  than decline her invitation, the rest of the family accompany

  Lance. She also mentioned that Mr. Walter F. Chrysler of

  Detroit and Miss Peggy Guggenheim of New York would be

  among the guests at her table that evening.

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  Donna Drew Sawyer

  Charlotte was ecstatic. Her first invitation of the voyage,

  courtesy of her grandson, and he had achieved it without her

  assistance. Perhaps there was more than one way to elevate her

  family to grace and favor.

  (III)

  To Lance, the dinner conversation was more intoxicating

  than the champagne that flowed throughout the evening. Talk

  of European politics, the expatriate community in Europe, art,

  music, Belle’s quest for manuscripts for the Morgan Library,

  economics, and banking swirled around the table at a dizzying

  speed. Lance was in awe of the knowledge, money and power

  present that evening. He did his best to keep up and, with what

  he’d learned from his recent conversations with Belle, he even

  managed to contribute to the discussion.

  Charlotte knew the dinner guests at Belle Greene’s table

  were the anointed and informed. This was not a Richmond

  society dinner party where she could dominate the conversation.

  Politics, business, regional and national events were men’s talk

  in Richmond. Social gossip, gardens, fashion and decorating

  had been her purview. Intimidated by her dining partners,

  Charlotte was unaccustomed to being an observer rather than

 

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