A Woman of Independent Means Read online

  We both miss Texas. We have decided to cut short our stay here and return home this weekend.

  Love from us both,

  Bess

  May 15, 1917

  New York City

  Fifth Avenue Florists

  New York City

  Please deliver one dozen long-stemmed roses to Mr. and Mrs. Dwight Davis, 33 Stonybrook, Westport, Connecticut, with the following message: “Thank you for giving us our first taste of eastern hospitality. It was an unforgettable weekend. I hope you will come to Texas soon so we can reciprocate. Bess and Rob.”

  A check is enclosed.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Robert R. Steed

  May 15, 1917

  New York City

  Director of Admissions

  Choate School

  Wallingford, Connecticut

  Dear Sir:

  My husband and I were driven through your impressive grounds this past weekend by our close friends Mr. and Mrs. Dwight Davis. Though we live at some distance—in Dallas, Texas—I am most anxious for my two sons, Robert and Andrew, to have the advantages of an eastern education.

  I hope it is not too late to enroll them now for three years of preparatory school before college. Robert will be seven next month and Andrew will be six in November. Kindly reserve places for them in the appropriate classes.

  Enclosed please find a check for $1,000 as a contribution to your current building campaign.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Robert

  Randolph Steed

  May 15, 1917

  New York City

  Dear Totsie and Dwight,

  It was kind of you to entertain us for the weekend—and quite an education to be exposed to a way of life that simply does not exist in Texas. I feel sure both Rob and I will profit from the experience.

  Your home is lovely and I never tired of looking out our bedroom window into your exquisite English garden. There were flowers blooming I had never seen before but would like to try planting at home—if such aristocratic species can survive in Texas soil. I for one suspect they will do very well.

  We are leaving for home tomorrow, several days earlier than we originally intended—a hotel and friends cannot replace home and family for very long.

  Good luck to Dwight in his efforts as chairman of the Choate Building Campaign.

  It was good to see you again. I’m glad I didn’t seem like a stranger to you.

  Affectionately,

  Bess

  July 5, 1917

  Dallas

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  The Liberty Loan Campaign was officially launched in Dallas yesterday with a huge picnic at White Rock Lake. Rob made a rousing speech.

  I’ve never had political ambitions for him before, but yesterday, listening to the crowd cheer, I became convinced he could be elected to any office in the country. However, he is not interested in winning votes now—all his energies are directed toward winning the war. He will be selling war bonds over a five-state area, which means he will be traveling most of the time. I miss him so much more when I’m at home and he’s away than when I was in Europe and he was here. I wish there were more I could do for the war effort. I’ve joined the Red Cross but it is difficult to bring much passion to bandage-rolling.

  Robin and Drew are fascinated by all the war talk. They have dug a trench around the servants quarters and spend most of the day in it.

  You would have rejoiced to see Eleanor playing with the other children at the picnic yesterday. At least that war is almost won!

  Much love,

  Bess

  August 16, 1917

  Dallas

  Dear Heart,

  I have now joined the ranks of those who also serve by only standing and waiting—but thank God your battlefield is a podium and your weapons war bonds. Even so, your absence makes my heart ache.

  Our trip to New York last spring was like a honeymoon for me—but a honeymoon greatly enriched by all the experiences shared in the years preceding it. I am always amazed to hear people say the first weeks or months of marriage are the best and then, “the honeymoon is over.” Of course I thought I loved you with all my heart when we were married, but it took marriage to teach me the outer limits of my anatomy, both physical and spiritual, and now I know that every moment we share further increases my capacity for love.

  The only advantage of being apart is that we are forced to communicate by letter—and to express in words thoughts which might otherwise remain unspoken.

  Goodnight, my love. Sleep well.

  Bess

  AUGUST 18 1917

  DALLAS

  ROBERT STEED

  LIBERTY LOAN HEADQUARTERS

  JEFFERSON HOTEL

  ST LOUIS MISSOURI

  HOUSE DESTROYED BY FIRE LAST NIGHT EVERYONE SAFE

  CHILDREN WITH LYDIA I AM IN BAYLOR WITH DISLO-

  CATED VERTEBRAE

  BESS

  August 19, 1917

  Baylor Hospital

  Dallas

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  Don’t be alarmed when you read this letter. We are all safe now. Two nights ago our house burned to the ground. The children—thank God—escaped without physical injury, though we had to jump from a second-story window to avoid the flames.

  Rob was in St. Louis so Mrs. McCullough and I were alone with the children (fortunately Mother Steed was spending the week with Lydia). Mrs. McCullough led the way out the window—followed by Robin and Drew, brave little soldiers that they are. They held hands as they jumped into a net held by firemen, but neither cried till they were safely on the ground. Eleanor was terrified so I held her in my arms and we jumped together. I was so filled with gratitude for our safe escape I didn’t realize how much pain I was in until I was loaded onto a stretcher and taken to the hospital. I have several dislocated vertebrae so I will be here at least a week. Fortunately Rob is with us now. He and the children are staying with Lydia and Manning.

  There is nothing for you to do—except not worry—but it is comforting to know you live so near. I cannot imagine children ever wanting to live at a distance from their parents, even when they are grown with children of their own. Life is too frightening to face without the support of a strong and loving family.

  I will write again in a day or so. There is not much pain now—and my physical discomfort is so outweighed by my gratitude for the escape of my children, I hardly even notice it.

  All my love,

  Bess

  August 21, 1917

  Baylor Hospital

  Dallas

  Dear Mr. Fineman,

  The basket of fruit and delicacies arrived this morning. What a thoughtful gift! Flowers always make me a little sad—their life span is so short. But I will be enjoying your gifts for weeks to come, at home as well as in the hospital. The basket looks like a beautiful bon voyage present, which allows me occasionally to forget my present circumstances and imagine I am in a cabin on a luxury liner, traveling to a new destination.

  I was surprised at the full coverage our fire received in The Dallas News. It was kind of you to send me an extra clipping. I just wish they had included a picture of the house before the fire (I have several excellent ones—they had only to ask) to demonstrate the extent of our loss. Every inch of that house was built to our specifications. We will never find another as perfectly suited to our needs. And building a house is out of the question in wartime.

  For the moment we are at the mercy of friends and family—a position that is new to me and rather uncomfortable. However, I suppose in a larger sense we are all helpless creatures at the mercy of one another, and fate is finally forcing me to accept this fact.

  Whatever sadness I feel at the loss of our home loses significance beside my gratitude for the safe escape of my loved ones. As long as my husband and children are with me, I will have a home, no matter where I happen to be.

  Sincerely,

  Bess Steed

  August 24, 191
7

  Baylor Hospital

  Dallas

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  I am much improved and the doctor says I may go home tomorrow. Home! What a habit that word is. Lydia has insisted we stay with her, at least now while Rob is doing so much traveling. And Rob agrees—he does not want me to be alone with the children.

  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.

  Bess

&n
bsp; 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

  October 1, 1917

  St. Louis

  Dear Cousin Josie,

  Forgive my delay in answering your last letter, but, as you will see from the postmark, we are now living in St. Louis.

  There is nothing like a change of setting to give one a fresh perspective on life. And as tragic as our loss was, I have found life in an impersonally furnished hotel strangely liberating. Like most people, I suppose, I enjoyed a sense of permanence and order living in a house built to my specifications and furnished to my taste. But the fire destroyed any illusion of permanence in this life as surely as the flames consumed the structure that sustained it. We are all transients on earth and the sooner we accept the impermanence of our condition, the more pleasure we can take in the unexpected freedom it provides.