Margaret was later immortalized in the Broadway and movie musical
The Unsinkable Molly Brown
. That Molly is a coarse, crude woman with a heart of gold. Unfortunately this portrait of Molly is a combination of myth and caricature. For one thing she was never called Molly. Her name was Margaret, or Mrs. J. J. Brown, if you please. The true story of Margaret Tobin Brown is more interesting and complex than the simpleton portrayed in the musical. Hers is the quintessential rags-to-riches tale. Her parents were hardworking Irish immigrants. Margaret was born in Hannibal, Missouri, in 1867, two years after the Civil War ended.
Margaret and her siblings attended a local neighborhood school until they were old enough to go to work, making her far from the illiterate character in her fictional representations. When she was seventeen, she moved to Leadville, Colorado, to keep house for her brother Daniel. Bored, she took a job working in a local department store. Margaret was full-figured, red-haired, and vivacious. Since men outnumbered women, she undoubtedly got plenty of attention.
When she was eighteen, she met James Joseph Brown, a foreman in a silver mine, at a church picnic. He was thirteen years her senior, intelligent, gregarious, and ambitious. Despite the fact that Margaret had planned on marrying rich, she married “J.J.” for love. “I thought about how I wanted comfort for my father and how I had determined to stay single until a man presented himself who could give the tired old man the things I longed for him. . . . Finally, I decided that I’d be better off with a poor man whom I loved than with a wealthy one whose money had attracted me.” They were married in Leadville’s Annunciation Church soon after she turned nineteen, in September 1886. The Browns soon added two children, Lawrence and Helen, to their family.
It took eight years of hard work before the Browns became rich. For years, J.J. had risen through the ranks of the Leadville silver mines. Just as silver prices collapsed, J.J. found gold in the Little Jonny mine, which was owned by the Ibex Mining Company. When his engineering efforts proved successful in the mining of the gold, the company gave him almost thirteen thousand shares of stock and a seat on the board. The most famous and enduring myth about Margaret is that after they became rich, J.J. accidentally burned three hundred thousand dollars she had hidden in a potbellied stove. (When a relative asked why she didn’t correct the story, she replied, “It’s a damn good story.”)
The Browns headed to Denver, where they purchased a thirtythousand-dollar mansion in the upscale Capitol Hill district and a country home they named Avoca. Margaret soon became part of the social life of the city, cutting a dashing figure, always dressed in the latest fashions, with huge hats and a walking stick decorated with flowers. “Mrs. Brown’s vivacity and merry disposition is a refreshing trait in a society woman of her position,” wrote the
Denver Times
, “for in the smart set any disposition to be natural and animated is quite frowned upon.”
Part of the Molly Brown legend is that social leaders of Denver shunned her for being too much, too Irish, too Catholic, and too loud. Polly Pry, a local gossip columnist, went out of her way to bash Margaret for her lack of good breeding and for trying too hard to be accepted. But while Margaret and J.J. were not members of the “Sacred Thirty-six,” Denver’s answer to Mrs. Astor’s Four Hundred, they were very much a part of Denver society. As her biographer Kristen Iversen points out, “From 1894 to the early 1920s, the Browns took up more space in Denver’s society pages than nearly any other Denver family and were regularly listed on the Social Register. Margaret and J.J. were not ostracized by Denver society—they
were
Denver society.”
But it wasn’t all party, party, party for Margaret; she had a social conscience as well. In Denver, she continued to be an outspoken advocate for the causes she believed in, often putting her money where her mouth was. She became a charter member of the Denver Women’s Club and a supporter of Judge Ben Lindsey, who helped to establish the juvenile court system in the United States. “The juveniles have no better friend than Mrs. Brown,” wrote a local paper. Like Robin Hood, she loved squeezing the rich to give to the poor. She also wasn’t afraid to bite the hand that fed her. In 1914, she took on the titans of Colorado’s mining industry, after militiamen fired on innocent women and children during the Ludlow coal strike. Organizing relief efforts, she demanded that working conditions improve.
She lobbied to have women in the military; one of her more eccentric propositions was that the United States send female troops to Mexico if there was a war. Her idea was scorned by men and women. Fascinated with Colorado’s multicultural heritage, she created a version of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair in Denver and invited the local Native tribes as well as the African Americans living in Denver to participate.
Margaret continued to work on improving herself after her marriage. She attended the Carnegie Institute, now Carnegie Mellon, in Pittsburgh for a year. She learned French, German, and Russian, and to yodel, a skill she later used to entertain guests at parties. “Perhaps no man in society has ever spent more time or money becoming ‘civilized’ than has Mrs. Brown,” wrote the
Denver Post
. Margaret traveled widely, particularly in France, which she loved. As well as New York and Denver, Margaret also had a forty-three-room “cottage” in Newport, Rhode Island, where she became friends with Alva Vanderbilt Belmont and the Astors.
It was love of travel and her use of the media to promote her causes that caused her marriage to end in separation. J.J. wasn’t happy to see his hard-earned money go to causes that he didn’t particularly care for. He also thought that a woman’s place was in the home. Margaret had her own complaints. She wasn’t happy about the rumors of his philandering, either. In 1909, he was sued by a Denver man for seducing his much younger wife. After twenty-three years of marriage, the Browns formally separated. Margaret got to keep the mansion and seven hundred dollars a month in support. Although they never reconciled, they remained fond of each other. After J.J. passed away in 1922, Margaret declared that he was the best man in the world, and she would never remarry.
Margaret’s most famous adventure, on the
Titanic
, almost didn’t happen. She was in Paris with her daughter, Helen, when she received word that her first grandson was ill. While Helen went off to London, Margaret booked passage on the first ship that she could. After the disaster, when her lifeboat was rescued by the
Carpathia
, she tried to help others by getting the word out via telegraph to their families. Unfortunately the telegraph office was so backed up the messages were never sent. Margaret organized a drive and raised ten thousand dollars to help the immigrant survivors who had lost everything.
While grieving for the friends she’d lost, Margaret spent days caring for the survivors in New York. For her work, she was hailed as a heroine. She also wasn’t afraid to tell the media exactly who she blamed for the disaster. She blamed the White Star Line, owners of the
Titanic
, for the lack of lifeboats. She also had a bee in her bonnet about what she considered the antiquated notion that women and children should go first, believing it separated families unnecessarily. It was her old nemesis columnist Polly Pry who first nicknamed her Molly and called her “Unsinkable” after her adventures on the
Titanic
.
Middle age did not slow her down. “I suppose there are some persons who would like me to sit down to devote the rest of my life to bridge,” she said. “Times have changed and there’s no reason why I should, like, my mother at forty, put on my glasses and do little but read.” Margaret ran for Congress in 1909 and for the Senate in 1914, but World War I intervened, and her sister’s marriage to a German baron led Margaret to believe her campaign would not be successful. Instead she lectured across the country about her experiences on the
Titanic
and other subjects, such as women’s rights. During the war, she helped to create a military hospital in France and provided money for an ambulance corps. For her efforts, she was awarded the French Legion of Honor medal. Margaret Tobin Brown died at the age of sixty-five from an undiagnosed brain tumor. She was buried in Westbury, New York, next to her husband, J.J. Given their love of Colorado, it is ironic that they are buried so far from the state they adored.
The burnishing of Margaret’s myth happened soon after her death. Flamboyant and theatrical, Margaret Tobin Brown was the closest thing to royalty Denver had ever seen. Heck, she even hobnobbed with real royalty, being presented at court in England and befriending a member of Russia’s Romanov family. Gene Fowler, a newspaper reporter, wrote a chapter on Margaret in his novel
Timber Line
, depicting her as a crude, cussing, pistol-packing eccentric. He repeated the made-up stories of Margaret surviving a flood as an infant and added new ones, particularly the idea that Margaret was an inspiration for Mark Twain.
Margaret Tobin Brown lives on to this day as “the Unsinkable” Molly Brown. She is as much a part of the myth of the Old West as Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. Margaret was a woman of action, compassion, and conviction. She preferred to think of herself as a “daughter of adventure. This means I never experience a dull moment and must be prepared for any eventuality.”
SIX
Amorous Artists
Camille Claudel
1864-1943
All that has happened to me is more than a novel, it is an epic, an Iliad or Odyssey, but it would need a Homer to recount it.
—CAMILLE CLAUDEL
Camille Claudel was only seventeen years old when she met Auguste Rodin in 1882. She and her family had just moved to Paris from the Champagne region where she was born so that she could attend the Académie Colarossi. She was determined to establish herself in Paris and earn her living as a sculptor. Her brother, Paul (who was a little biased), wrote that she was “this superb young woman in the full bloom of her beauty and talent.”
Camille was obsessed at an early age with the wonders and possibilities of clay. She roped in whoever she could—siblings and servants—to act as assistants and models. When other children grew up to move on to other things, Camille did not. By chance, her work attracted the notice of sculptor Alfred Boucher, who gave her some constructive criticism of her work and encouraged the family to move to Paris. When Boucher moved to Florence, after winning the Grand Prix de Salon, he asked his friend Rodin to take his place in guiding his protégée. Auguste Rodin was twenty-four years older than Camille and was finally experiencing the success that had eluded him for so many years of grinding poverty.
Camille was soon hired to work at Rodin’s atelier at rue d’Université along with her friend Jessie Lipscomb. They were the only women, acting as chaperones for each other. Sculpture was not for the faint of heart; it was messy, strenuous, and expensive. It was not a pretty, feminine art like painting. It was manual labor, requiring women to hike up their long, bustled dresses to climb ladders, carrying heavy materials.
Rodin was immediately attracted to the vibrant young sculptor with the wavy chestnut hair and vivid blue eyes, and he noticed her talent as well. He was struck by her originality and her fierce ambition. Rodin himself said about Camille, “I showed her where to find gold, but the gold she finds is truly hers.” Camille quickly became a source of inspiration to Rodin, his model, and his confidante. He soon entrusted Camille with the task of modeling the hands and feet for
The Burghers
of
Calais
. Camille’s friend and first biographer, Mathias Morhardt, wrote that from the beginning Camille was Rodin’s equal, not his disciple. “Right away, Rodin recognized Mademoiselle’s prodigious gifts. Right away, he realized that she had in her own nature, an admirable and incomparable temperament.”
Before long Rodin fell passionately in love and pursued her relentlessly. He followed her to England where she was visiting Jessie Lipscomb, and he regularly used Jessie as a go-between when Camille was in one of her unreceptive moods. His letters are far from being those of a sophisticated lover; they are more like those of a teenager in the throes of first love.
23
“You did not come last night and could not bring our dear stubborn one: we love her so much and it is she, I do believe, who leads us,” he wrote to Jessie. From the beginning, Camille blew hot and cold, leaving Rodin in torment. She wasn’t just playing hard to get. While attracted to Rodin, she was worried about being consumed by him, losing her independence, and being forever in the shadow of a great man, her work neglected. She was already giving up so much of herself to Rodin artistically, with her energy, her modeling for him, and working as his assistant.