Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Stanfords

Gossip has a way of turning smoke into fire.

In the beginning, there were rumors, but nothing more than slight whispers. No one was willing to offend a family who wielded the kind of power as did the Huntington-Stanfords. Especially if the rumors turned out to be true. Or, if one had their own secrets to protect.

Clay Stanford II’s personal secretary had intercepted a rumor of a child having been secretly given up for adoption by his wife. The secretary had explored these rumors through his contacts with the staff of other socialites. If these rumors were true, Clay Stanford blamed himself. It was he who had selfishly left his young bride for long periods of time during which he indulged in ridiculous adventures around the world. He had to climb the highest mountain or sail the longest distances to feed his passion for living life on the edge. He never spoke of the rumor to his wife. He feared any speculation would entail adultery. Life without his beloved Gemma would be impossible, and death would have been a more compassionate alternative. Therefore, he left it alone.

He would, however, do all within his power to circumvent his wife while attempting to find out if a child did, in fact, exist. The thought of a child of his, or hers, out there in the world alone, without him to protect them, sickened him. It never occurred to him that the child might be living in a safe, loving home.

Clay II included in his will, “Shall a third child of mine or my wife’s ever be confirmed, such child shall share equally in my entire estate along with any and all born or unborn siblings. The codicil shall be in effect for perpetuity.”

In June of 1956, Clay Stanford II’s passion for traveling around the world offered him a chance to persuade his wife, Gemma Huntington-Stanford, to join him on a grand tour of Europe for her birthday celebration. He had just purchased a new Italian villa and winery in Tuscany, as a birthday surprise.

They were to return home to California via New York a month later in July.

Arriving at the Italian port of Genoa, the Stanfords transferred to the most luxurious ocean liner in the world at the time, the Italian luxury liner
Andrea Doria,
along with their two children, son Montague and daughter Isabella. The ship continued on to stops in Cannes, France, Naples, and Gibraltar while collecting almost 1200 other passengers before commencing its 51st voyage westward across the Atlantic for New York City, United States.

The transatlantic crossing would end in tragedy. The magnificent
Andrea Doria
seamlessly glided across the Atlantic as one of the fastest ships of its time. Italy’s industries had been devastated in World War II and the Italian State was looking to regain its position of prestige on the world stage. The
Andrea Doria
was its answer. It was postwar Italy’s calling card to the world. Elegantly designed, and equipped with the latest in technology, it was the first ocean liner to sport three swimming pools. The sophisticated ship swaggered around the globe with a gross tonnage of 29,100 tons and a crew of 500.

Nearing the end of their journey and only a few days from New York City, they approached Nantucket, Massachusetts when tragedy leapt from the sea. On the fog-filled night of July 25, 1956, the
MS Stockholm
of the Swedish American Line and the
Andrea Doria
collided with a metal-crushing death grip. The
Andrea Doria
was pierced broadside at a 90-degree point by the
Stockholm
. The Swedish ship’s bow was built with a sharply raked angle that also served as an ice breaker when en route to wintry Scandinavia. It tore straight into the mid-section of the
Andrea Dora
like a hot knife into butter.

The violent collision smashed deeply into three passenger cabins numbered 52, 54, and 56. The crash annihilated the occupied first class cabins of the Stanford family. They were killed instantly, except for Montague.

News reports declared “the death toll to be 46 passengers, all onboard the
Andrea Doria
. Those unfortunate souls were located in the collision area of the ship. Among the fatalities were billionaire Clay Stanford II, his wife, heiress Gemma Huntington-Stanford, and daughter Isabella. The Stanford’s only son, by the grace of GOD, has survived. After the ships separated, crew members of the
Stockholm
were surveying the damage and looking for survivors when they found a young boy, lying on the deck of the
Stockholm
, aft of the wrecked bow. It was young Montague Romeo Stanford, shivering, wet, but alive and without any major injury.”

It was soon determined that he had been an
Andrea Doria
passenger and identified. He had miraculously survived the impact and had been propelled far onto the
Stockholm
’s deck, only a foot or two from being thrown into the open seas. His sister Isabella who had been in cabin 52 with him, her bed just a few feet away, had perished instantly.

The disaster would be the last of the great ships built before air travel surpassed ocean liners as the preferred means of intercontinental travel.

Thus began a era that would change our planet forever, a time when flying became the primary mode of world travel. A period that was to be created, and globally dominated, by Pan American World Airways. An era helped ushered in by none other than son, Montague Stanford.

* * *

Gemma Huntington was an American blue blood. When she married Clay Stanford II it united two of the largest fortunes in America, creating a colossal sum of unimaginable wealth. She had lived an idyllic life of old California money, cut from a different cloth than East Coast heiresses, thus giving her zero interest in the constant shop and spend life so many of them had chosen to lead. Gemma preferred to focus on her new husband, art, and entertaining in her magnificent mansions of San Marino (Old Pasadena), Montecito (Santa Barbara), or their 150 ft. yacht,
Cosmos
, all within a day’s drive. She couldn’t tolerate the endless hours of being on an airplane. Hence her avoidance of partaking in trips.

Her wish was to become pregnant straightaway after the wedding, but not even the super rich can force pregnancy. It certainly wasn’t because of a lack of interest on Clay’s behalf. Her husband had brought out a high sex drive in her that matched his. She was more than capable of keeping up with him on a daily basis. Yet, no children for the first two years. Or so he thought.

Gemma’s husband Clay was gone two to three months at a time. It hadn’t bothered her much at first. But she had become lonely and accustomed to the daily passion they shared for each other. Clay certainly took care of his needs when away from his wife, albeit discreetly, as one could in those days.

She withdrew from the society party circuit after marriage, leaving her with just her servants and the occasional visit from relatives or friends. These long periods of isolation resulted in her spending months at a time with her chauffeur and body guard, Daniels.

He was strikingly handsome, powerfully built, and just happened to be black. The two grew closer and the inevitable took its course, with Gemma giving in to her lustful longing for the passionate sex her husband had introduced her to. Only this time it was with her handsome black chauffeur, Daniels. But this was America in the 1940’s.

“It is terrifically lustful, deliciously taboo, passionate, and very satisfying,” she would think to herself when alone.

“I’ve almost become addicted to you, but you understand that this is only for us to enjoy until my husband returns home,” Gemma spoke in an exhausted, hushed voice while lying in Daniels’ arms after an hour and a half of nonstop, sweat-filled sex one summer afternoon.

“Yes. I know. But, until then, I intend to enjoy it as much as you. I’m so turned on by the thought of no one knowing that I’m sexing up my beautiful, sexy, rich white boss,” was Daniels’ reply.

The torrid affair ensued with three months of relentless sex. Shortly after the return of her husband, Clay, and amid fears that he would somehow sense the unusual chemistry between the two of them, she reluctantly dismissed Daniels. He would be missed, but he also left with a tidy sum from her as a gift of their “special” friendship. Enough to start his own limousine company.

Her secret was safe and she resumed her sought-after passion with her beloved husband. They spent nearly a week in bed when he first returned, much to the delight of Clay. She was strikingly beautiful and he would have done anything for her.

Soon after, Clay was off on another jaunt for business. Just as Gemma was finding herself feeling unusually sick. It had started a few weeks after Clay’s return and would come and go.

“I won’t go, dear, if you want me to stay. I can delay the trip,” Clay reminded his loving wife.

“I am fine, my love. I want you to go as long as you promise you will give me twice as long with you when you get back.”

“I promise with all my heart. We still have baby making duties to fulfill!” he replied with a smile in her direction as he prepared to leave.

Never suspecting that she might in fact be pregnant. That was until the clear signs that all women come to know arrived. Normally, she would have been thrilled at the prospect, but she was suddenly gripped with enough fear that it made her feel as if she’d taken a nude dip in a frigid February Lake Tahoe.

“I’m pregnant! I know it.” Quickly realizing that it could very well be the child of Daniels. Thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to make sense of the timing. It could either be Clay’s or her black chauffeur lover’s.

Gemma harbored no idiotic ideas of racism herself, but she felt unable to handle the definite ridicule and exile that she would surely face in 1940’s racist America. “I have two choices, give the child up or an abortion and risk ruining my chances of ever having children again.”

Her clothes became roomier over the next few weeks as she made arrangements for her decision. She isolated herself and discreetly located a woman who handled these kinds of issues for women of high society. Done with the utmost in secrecy of course. Taking a course of action required her to encourage her husband to travel, which he gladly appreciated and took full advantage of.

“Darling, I love when you come home with all of your adventure stories. I look forward to it. I want you to travel the world as long as you can, just come back to me. I am going off to a spa to rid myself of a few extra pounds and keep beautiful for my handsome husband.”

She was able to split their time apart by timing his short returns for the first three months. New York became a convenient travel destination for her when speaking to him. Although she hadn’t truly been there in almost three years.

“You know I don’t mind a little weight; I love you just as you are.” Fulfilling his role as the adoring husband, never dreaming that she would be hiding a pregnancy from him.

Marjorie Heresford only handled underground adoptions for the wealthy. It was a black market service she had been in for years. She asked no questions about the father or circumstances, her only concern was carrying out the wishes of her clients and maintaining their secret. Her livelihood depended on it. Prying could end it all.

Gemma disappeared for a period of time on an extended trip while her husband was off on an expedition climbing Mt. Everest.

She gave the baby up at birth, having made up her mind that she would not look at it or hold it for fear that the already strong bond between a mother and child would make it impossible to give up, regardless of its color. It was the worst day of her life. She grieved for months, and months grew into years until she had conceived her next child. The woman had been told not to divulge anything about the child to Gemma, and she hadn’t.

“I don’t even want to know the sex. I couldn’t bare it,” she stated to the woman with a tone of dread.

The baby went straight to a childless family with whom the woman was well acquainted. They weren’t well off, but they were full of love and she was confident that they would raise the child with the same care and affection as if it were their own flesh.

That child would grow up, get married, and later become known as … Mrs. Dotty Henderson. It had not been the lovechild conceived by Gemma and her lover, the chauffeur, but was, in fact, the full blooded offspring of her husband, Clay Stanford II.

Only the old woman whom Dotty knew as “Aunt Marjorie” knew the secret that she was the child of heiress Gemma Huntington-Stanford.

“I don’t get paid to ask questions. I’m the solution for those that come to me for help. I offer the utmost in confidentiality,” she assured the heiress and those like her. She was proud of the service she provided. Everyone involved was saved from heartache and pain, this she truly believed.

“So I’ve been told. The hefty sum you’ve been paid should be more than enough for your services.” She had wanted to set aside money for the child, but that would entail attachments that could surface down the road. She had been assured the baby would be safe and taken care of.

“You’ve been very generous. Know that the child will be well taken care of.”

“Good … I, I don’t want to know anything else … please,” she pleaded, afraid that she would change her mind at any minute.

“Yes, madam, understood. That is usually the case. This process is part of the services I provide. You are in good hands. I have been doing this for ladies of society for many years, with not one disruption or revelation. If you know what I mean.” Cryptically bragging about her professional standing and past successes.

The old lady had operated like a covert government program for the privileged, assuming, from past experience, that the socialite had gotten pregnant by someone other than her husband.

Dotty turned out to be the spitting image of her grandmother, Clay II’s mother. She had been homely looking as well, but filthy rich, which alone had secured her betrothal to the dashing Clay Stanford I.

The secret history of the child was noted only on a few old, faded documents kept under lock and key. The old woman kept them hidden away in her home for decades.