A Woman of Independent Means (11 page)

Our devoted Annie entered the hospital last night and this morning she and Hans became the proud parents of a baby boy. They have named him Franz for her brother who was killed in the first year of the war. I went down to her floor to see her this afternoon and arranged for her to be moved to a private room.

It is sad for her not to be able to share this event with her family. She has not heard from them for many months, and now that our countries are officially at war, she does not dare write. She and Hans seem so alone in the world. Even though they have become American citizens, they will not truly trust our affection again until the war is over. Both have vowed never to return to domestic service. Hans is now working as a mechanic in a downtown garage, and Annie will be staying home with the baby.

Your letter was a great comfort to me. Lying helpless in a hospital turns an adult into a child again. Thank you for knowing how much I needed to hear from you.

Until recently, I inhabited a world that did not change from day to day, in spite of the larger events going on outside our lives. Eleanor's accident put my world in jeopardy for the first time and the fire confirmed my fear that nothing is given to us to keep. Our lives are all on loan and none of us knows when the mortgage will fall due. I sigh with relief that this time my house seemed to be sufficient payment, and I shudder to imagine what toll may be exacted next.

All my love,
Bess

August 24, 1917
Baylor Hospital
Dallas

Dear Cousin Josie,

I am enclosing a clipping from
The Dallas News
which will explain my delay in answering your last letter.

Our home and its contents were totally destroyed by fire, as you can see from the photograph. Each child escaped with a favorite toy, but all other artifacts of our life were lost. If it were not for my husband and children, I would still be in a state of shock, not knowing who I was.

Much as I look forward to leaving the hospital, I am heartsick at the prospect of being homeless. My sister-in-law and her husband have generously opened their doors to us for as long as we want to stay but it will be difficult for me to be a guest for very long in a home where someone else is giving the orders.

I am sorry to hear of your weakening condition, and I wonder if it is wise for you to continue living alone in that big house. Perhaps you should consider moving to a place where medical attention is available. For a woman in your position the upkeep of a large and fully furnished home is an unnecessary responsibility. Of course I know how much your home means to you. I felt the same way about mine. I am so grateful that so much of our family history is preserved within the walls of your home. Be assured that no matter what your circumstances are and where you decide to live, the contents of your home will be cared for and cherished by generations to come.

Your loving cousin,
Bess

September 10, 1917
Dallas

Dear Papa and Mavis,

The children and I are comfortably installed with Lydia and Manning. Little Marian is overjoyed at suddenly acquiring a large family and her parents have welcomed our invasion with good spirits.

Rob is in St. Louis this week at a meeting for war bond area chairmen. His campaign has been highly successful and his methods are being copied around the country. Nor have his patriotic efforts gone unnoticed in the business world. Life insurance sales have tripled in the last year and Midwestern Life has just opened a branch office in St. Louis.

Space is limited here so Mrs. McCullough has moved back with her son for a much-needed vacation. She will rejoin us when we move into our own home again. I have not had much time to look at houses, since Lydia and I share the care of the house and children. I offered to pay the full cost of a domestic but Lydia prides herself on taking care of the house without help. I am at a loss in the kitchen so she does all the cooking while I do my best to keep the house tidy. With four children around, it is work that never ends. For the first time I understand Annie's distaste for domestic service. It is difficult enough keeping your own house in order; doing it for someone else must be unpleasant indeed.

I just received a long letter from Cousin Josie, complaining again of ill health but refusing even to consider the possibility of moving into a nursing home. Her excuse is the expense; she says the amount you send her is not sufficient and she does not want to ask for more. However, I would be happy to furnish the difference so that she could be relieved of the tiresome burden of running a home. She is also concerned about the expense of storing her furniture, but I am sure that expense can be avoided.

Affectionately,
Bess

September 11, 1917
Dallas

Riverview Convalescent Home
Syracuse, New York

 

Dear Sirs:

I am interested in the facilities you might have available for an elderly female relative of mine who has been in ill health for some time. Kindly send me a brochure with a description of currently available accommodations. Please quote prices.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Robert R. Steed

 

SEPTEMBER 12 1917
DALLAS

ROBERT STEED
JEFFERSON HOTEL
ST LOUIS MISSOURI
RESERVE ADJOINING SUITE AM ARRIVING WITH CHIL-
DREN TOMORROW HAVE DECIDED TO MOVE TO ST
LOUIS

BESS

 

 

September 15, 1917
St. Louis, Missouri

Dearest Lydia,

I will always be grateful for the overwhelming kindness you showed us over the last few weeks. Thanks to you, the children do not look back upon the fire as a nightmare but rather as an adventure.

Who decided that permanence is a prerequisite for raising a family? Children thrive on change and indeed adjust to new surroundings with greater ease than their elders. I marvel as I watch my trio at play in our suite here, inventing games, making forts out of empty suitcases and tents out of sheets and blankets. I have had many moments of regret, thinking of all that was lost in the fire, but so far as I can see, the children have none. They speak often of the house and the things that were in it, but with no sense of loss. It is as if it still exists somewhere—in a distant place—waiting for us to come home when we tire of our travels.

I would like to do something tangible to thank you for making us feel so welcome in your home. I can already hear you saying no to anything I might suggest, so I have taken the liberty of going ahead without your consent. Our darling Mrs. McCullough refuses to leave her family in Dallas and join us here, but neither is she ready to retire. I have arranged to pay her a monthly pension (which I would feel obligated to do in any case, in return for her devoted attendance on us) and she has agreed to spend three afternoons a week at your house, doing anything you ask. She is delighted at the prospect, as I trust you will be. She is quite active for her age and adores the company of young children, though I expect a household with only one child will be a welcome change for her.

I know you take pride in managing your house without help and I admire you for it, though I frankly admit I could never do the same. So think of Mrs. McCullough more as a friend or relative and let her entertain little Marian on the afternoons she is there. Then maybe you will have an opportunity to get back to that novel about your childhood you started so long ago in Honey Grove. I have a great interest in seeing it completed since Rob and I figure in it so prominently.

Mrs. McCullough will be calling you later in the week so that the two of you can decide which days she should come. Please give her our love. And of course do the same for you and your family.

September 20, 1917
St. Louis

Dearest Papa and Mavis,

There is much to be said for being a transient—especially when one can afford to do it in style. Our accommodations are extremely comfortable and after the responsibility of running a house, hotel living seems quite carefree. This morning as we were strolling through the grounds, I noticed a periwinkle bed in need of thinning but how nice to know it was not my problem (though I did leave a short note for the head gardener).

I revel in the luxury of clean linens daily, and the children have grown so accustomed to room service they never want to eat in a dining room again. Everyone on the hotel staff greets the children by name. This has become our world and we all feel quite safe and at home here. There is always an off-duty maid to stay with the children when Rob and I want to go out, and indeed our social calendar has been crowded with invitations ever since I arrived.

Rob has been a prominent member of the business community for some years now, thanks to the astonishing growth of the life insurance company he started with Manning. And now we are assuming equally important standing in the social life of the city. And what an active social life exists here! Dallas would do well to take note of the imagination and energy that goes into entertaining. I sometimes feel I have moved from a frontier town into a cosmopolitan center.

I seem to be almost completely recovered from the back injuries I suffered in the fire but I am conscientious about doing all the exercises the doctor prescribed as therapy. The first ball of the season takes place in a month, and I want to be able to dance till dawn.

All my love,
Bess