I look forward to hearing from you again and would welcome your suggestions for a long-term investment.
Sincerely,
Bess Steed
July 10, 1919
Woodstock
Dear Cousin Josie,
The children and I seem to have adapted to New England faster than our Pilgrim forefathers did—but then our circumstances are a great deal more pleasant.
A lady from Chicago stopped by our farm this past weekend, hoping we might have some old family Bibles or records that would aid her search for ancestors in this area. Unfortunately we were unable to supply her with anything more helpful than our interest but we did accompany her to two nearby cemeteries.
I could not go into the first one I was so overcome by the memory of the grave I left behind in St. Louis, so I stayed outside and held the baby for my friend Totsie while she and the children helped our visitor search for clues. To the children it was like a game of hide and seek through history and they got very excited running from marker to marker, comparing names and dates, guessing at family relationships and sentiments from the size of the headstones and the words engraved on them.
By the time we got to the second cemetery, I was able to accompany them inside. By now the children were so carried away by their game they had grown rather unruly and our visitor wondered aloud if a cemetery were a proper place for children. I was stunned at the vehemence of my own response. I said I could not speak for all the dead, of course, but having lost my husband just five months ago, I could vouch for his delight in the sight and sound of children at play. We parted company soon after this. Our visitor climbed into her chauffeured car headed for her next destination, and we returned on foot to the farm.
The episode kindled a spark, however, and I have resolved to take advantage of this summer in the land of my ancestors to trace my own lineage. I remember my father talking about a family tree your mother kept in the living room. For years I imagined a huge tree growing in the center of the room, with members of the family comfortably ensconced among its branches. When I visited your house for the first time, even though I was an adult and knew better, I must admit to a small pang of disappointment upon entering a conventional parlor in place of the tree-sheltered room I had imagined as a child. But I cannot remember a family tree of any kind in evidence on either of my visits. Does one exist? If so, do you know where it is? I would be so grateful to have the chance to study it this summer. I am also interested in any written records or family histories you might have in your possession.
We would be delighted to have you visit us here. The change would be good for you and we would enjoy your company. Also, if you traveled here in person, you would not have to entrust the family records to the post office.
Please give serious thought to this invitation. The children love the idea of meeting a cousin who is older than their grandfather. With the hope of seeing you soon, I remain,
Your devoted cousin,
Bess
July 17, 1919
Woodstock
Dear Arthur,
It feels strange to address you by your first name but pleasant to regard you as a friend.
I am very interested in the brochures you sent me. Would I be imposing on our friendship to ask you to set up an account for me and buy five hundred shares each of the six stocks you recommend? I appreciate your note of caution, but I am not in the market for bonds at this point, nor do I require the quarterly arrival of a check to keep faith with a company.
I thought you might enjoy the enclosed photograph of the children on the seesaw they constructed from a barrel and a plank. They invent games by the hour—the limited supplies they have here seem to stir their imaginations more than the best-equipped playroom. We will be living on a much more modest scale from now on and it is reassuring to realize my precious children will not suffer.
Thank you for your interest and attention. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.
Gratefully,
Bess
August 1, 1919
Woodstock
Dear Lydia and Manning,
I was distressed to learn from your letter how poorly the life insurance business is faring in my absence. I had hoped that by closing the St. Louis office and consolidating its resources, the company could weather this crisis. I am so grateful you are there to deal with these problems, Manning—though I am sure there are times when you wish you were anywhere else. If we can just hold on to what we have, I know business will improve and our tenacity will be rewarded.
I have opened an account with the brokerage firm of Meyers, Miller, and Fineman and have decided to invest the proceeds from the sale of my house in the stock market. You may disagree, but at this time in my life I do not feel I can afford to be cautious. However, lest I appear reckless, be assured I am acting on the carefully considered advice of a close personal friend, Arthur Fineman, a senior partner in the firm.
Totsie’s husband, Dwight, arrives tomorrow and we have spent all week getting everything in order. Today Totsie decided to have her hair done. There is no beauty parlor in town, but the wife of the local postmaster gives shampoos in her home, using soft rainwater collected in barrels and heated in kettles over the fire. I wasn’t planning to go, but Totsie begged me to keep her company in case the woman turned out to be as reticent as most of her neighbors. Only in New England does one run the risk of encountering an inarticulate beautician!
We left the children with our neighbor, Mrs. Stone, who put them to work in the orchard picking cherries for her exquisite pies. She put the baby in a cradle in the kitchen and rocked it with her foot while she rolled out the pie crust. Mrs. Stone raised eight children of her own and I could not imagine how she managed so many until I saw how easily she fitted our four into her afternoon’s activities.
It was the first time Totsie and I had been away from the children all summer, and we suddenly felt as unfettered as young foals. We tried to maintain a sedate appearance befitting our position as we walked through town, but we were practically dancing when Totsie arrived for her beauty appointment. In our lightheaded mood she had no trouble persuading me to join her in a shampoo and soon we were both snow-capped with lather.
There was such an air of expectation about us that the postmaster’s wife overcame her native shyness to ask whom we were expecting. Totsie began to talk about Dwight while the woman rinsed her hair with lemon juice. Then, while Totsie sat outside in the sun letting her hair dry, the woman turned her attention to me. In what was for her, I am certain, an unusual display of interest, she asked if I were expecting anyone special this weekend.
She was rinsing my hair at the time and attributed my long pause before responding to the water cascading over my ears. But it was not rainwater that wet my cheeks and the bitter taste in my mouth was more than lemon. I could not speak but finally shook my head negatively.
“Oh, well,” she said, trying for a light tone, “who needs a reason for looking pretty?” But we both knew the answer.
I have been so happy here this summer and I truly thought I had succeeded in eluding the sorrow that has pursued me so relentlessly since Rob died. But the prospect of Dwight’s arrival has made my solitude unbearable. I do not know how I am going to get through the next two weeks. I feel more alone tonight than I have ever felt in my entire life.
I love you both for being part of my memory of Rob.
Bess
August 5, 1919
Woodstock
Dear Cousin Josie,
I am sorry you felt a train trip was too arduous for you. Personally, I have always found daily routine more tiring than travel. In fact, the very thought of seeing anything new invigorates me. However, it was kind of you to send the genealogy book in your place. I was thrilled to learn that a branch of my father’s family can be traced to the American Revolution and am anxious to do research and discover the extent of their contribution to this chapter in history.
It was very generous of y
ou to give me the family tree. I only wanted to study it, not rob you of your heritage. However, if you sincerely feel it is safer in my keeping, I will be honored to have it for future generations of our family. But I am puzzled by certain omissions on the tree. The genealogy book mentions a family living in Salem, Massachusetts, in the seventeenth century that I feel sure we have a right to claim but your mother did not include them when she had the tree drawn.
I have been anxious to explore New England on my own and so have decided to take the children on an excursion next week. Totsie’s husband, Dwight, has kindly offered me the use of his car.
I plan to go first to Salem and check the local records to establish our connection with the family I mentioned earlier. It is thrilling to feel personally linked with the people who founded our country. I will let you know the results of my inquiries as soon as I learn anything definite. I know you must be as interested as I am in the missing chapters of our family history.
Much love,
Bess
August 15, 1919
Boston, Massachusetts
Dear Papa and Mavis,
The discovery of our family’s role in the history of this country has left me in a state of shock.
In Salem I established beyond a doubt our descent from the family of the town crier in the seventeenth century but learned at the same time that his oldest daughter was an accuser in the first witch trial. I understand now why their name is deliberately deleted from the family tree, and I suspect Cousin Josie knew all along to what an ignoble end my search for illustrious ancestors would lead me.
In Boston I hoped to redeem the ignominy of our earliest known forebears with the brave acts of our revolutionary ancestors. What a blow to find our family’s name on a list of Tory sympathizers.
We are returning to the farm tomorrow. I promised the children we would retrace Paul Revere’s ride on our return route and I cannot disappoint them, but every historical mile we travel will drive another nail of disappointment into my already splintered heart.
I know now that history cannot be counted on to furnish us any reason for pride in who we are. We have to do that for ourselves. I guess I should be glad I learned the truth while I still have so much of my life ahead of me. What a year! I lost my husband in the spring and my heritage in the summer. I am truly on my own.
All my love,
Bess
August 20, 1919
Woodstock
Dear Cousin Josie,
I am returning herewith the genealogy book and family tree you were kind enough to lend me. I have no further need of them and no wish to own anything that more rightfully belongs with you. After all, it was your mother who ordered the family tree made and kept it hanging in her living room until someone (you perhaps?) discovered a reason for taking it down. I understand now why it was not on display when I visited your house for the first time, and only wish you had seen fit to spare me the trip that brought me face to face with facts I would rather never have known.
However, some good may have come from my experience ancestor hunting. Dwight Davis, my friend’s husband, comes from an illustrious family, many of whose members served with distinction during the Revolution. But family history is an all-or-nothing proposition. There is no way to claim the good while denying the bad, and I have warned him of the betrayals lurking in any close examination of one’s origins. His wife has implored him to remove the family tree hanging in his study before their adopted child is old enough to understand his omission from it, but so far Dwight has refused. However, I think I may have abetted her cause by hinting at the existence of a few skeletons among the branches of the family tree, and Totsie has privately predicted that the tree will be out of sight when she returns home at the end of the summer.
The end of summer—how sad that sounds to me. I must make plans—and yet it is so difficult to know where to start. There must be days when it is very reassuring to you to know where and how you will spend the rest of your life—and to have all your decisions made for you by someone with your best interests at heart. I wish I could be as decisive in my own interests right now as I have always been in the interests of others. I wish there were another “I” with an existence separate from my own who could tell me what to do. At this moment I would gladly take orders from anyone who spoke with authority.
Your devoted cousin,
Bess
August 21, 1919
Woodstock
Mrs. Annie Hoffmeyer
210 Gaston Avenue
Dallas, Texas
Dearest Annie,
I read your letter with tears of joy. I was not sure I would ever hear from you again. But what unexpected bereavement brings us together! I lost my husband to death and you lost yours to another way of life. I would not presume to say which is the harder loss to bear.
I find myself in much the same position you do as fall approaches—with small children dependent on me and no husband to provide for us. Perhaps our mutual need can serve us both. As much as I dislike the idea of retracing any of my steps, I must return to Dallas next month and try to save what remains of my husband’s business. And as I feel certain you are anxious to leave the scene of marital discord, let me suggest that I rent a house large enough for both of us and our children. That is, of course, if you will assume the responsibility of running it. I cannot afford to pay you a salary at this point, any more than you can afford to pay me rent, but in return for your services, I will gladly provide food and shelter for our two families.
I know when you left my employ you were firmly resolved never to return to domestic service, and I respect your decision. However, in this case you would not be working for me, we would be helping each other through a difficult time in our lives. I hope you will agree to the arrangement, as I feel we could both profit from it.
I am sending by the same post a present for each of the children. They were hand-made by the wife of the mayor of our village here. The gingham snake is for little Franz and the knitted dress for your new daughter. How cruel of Hans to make her arrival the occasion of his abrupt departure from your life.
The children send you hugs and kisses—as do I. And we all eagerly await your reply to my proposal.
Your devoted friend,
Bess Alcott Steed
August 29, 1919
Woodstock
Dearest Annie,
Your prompt reply was cause for celebration! The children and I are thrilled at the prospect of seeing you again and sharing your life. The house you mentioned sounds perfectly suited for all our needs. I am enclosing a check to cover the first month’s rent, effective at the earliest date you care to move.
We plan to stay here another ten days, through the Labor Day weekend. We are planning a large picnic for the friends we have made this summer. However, as people in this part of the country are not used to socializing (most of them have not set foot in a house other than their own in years), we are not sure how many will accept our invitation. The children are preparing a play to entertain the guests—if there are any. Most of them have had even less experience with plays than they have with parties, so this occasion will be an education for all of us.
We will be arriving in Dallas some time in mid-September. Suddenly I am not afraid of decisions, and I have you to thank. I have spent the summer scrupulously living a day at a time and refusing to face the future, because I could not bear to face it alone. I deeply regret the unhappy circumstances which have placed you in a position comparable to my own, but how grateful I am for the prospect of your company through the long winter ahead.
Kisses from all of us,
Bess
August 29, 1919
Woodstock
Miss Mabel Swift
Town and Country School
2316 Maple Lawn
Dallas, Texas
Dear Miss Swift,
My children and I are returning to Dallas this fall, after a two-year stay in St. Louis that was abruptly and tragically te
rminated by the death of my husband last spring.
I have spent the summer visiting a friend in New England, and my plans for the fall did not become definite until today. I know it is late to be asking you to reserve places for my three children in your fall classes but I trust that in considering this request you will not overlook the outstanding achievements of my two sons during their earlier time with you, and I can assure you that my daughter is in every way their equal.
In the hope that you will understand and allow for the tragic circumstances that prevented me from submitting this application any earlier, I am enclosing a check covering tuition for the first semester. I know only the first month’s tuition is required in advance, but I trust the size of my deposit will be adequate proof of my intentions. I will be here for another two weeks and would appreciate a confirming letter from you before our departure.
Specifically, I am requesting space in the first grade for my daughter, Eleanor Elizabeth; in the second grade for my son, Andrew Alcott; and in the fourth grade for my older son, Robert Randolph. I have grown so used to thinking of him as the man of the family this summer, it comes as a shock to realize he is only in the fourth grade. He has assumed his new responsibility with solemn pride, but it will be good for him to be with children his own age again.
I look forward to hearing from you and to renewing our acquaintance, which I remember with great pleasure.
Sincerely,
Bess Alcott Steed
SEPTEMBER 1 1919
WOODSTOCK VERMONT
MANNING SHEPHERD
2793 SWISS AVE
DALLAS TEXAS
CHILDREN AND I EN ROUTE TO DALLAS PLEASE DELAY
BANKRUPTCY PROCEEDINGS PENDING MY ARRIVAL I
WILL ASSUME PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY FOR COMPANY