Ordinary Extraordinary

April 24, 1912 (The Reveal)

Dearest Helen,

After being brined, salted, and pickled in mid ocean I am now high and dry... I have had flowers, letters, telegrams-people until I am befuddled. They are petitioning Congress to give me a medal... If I must call a specialist to examine my head it is due to the title of Heroine of the Titanic.

Love,
Mother*

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*The above is a real letter written by my historical alter-ego, Margaret Tobin Brown, a.k.a. "The Unsinkable Molly Brown," to her daugher Helen soon after Mrs. Brown's arrival in New York. This week's posts have been sprinkled with excerpts from Mrs. Brown's personal letters and writings, most of which I found at Wikipedia or the Encyclopedia Titanica.

Congratulations to Michael, Verbify, and Kattunge for being the first, second, and third people to correctly guess my character's identity. Scott also deserves a special shout-out for reading all of the GBBC blogs and make guesses about everyone's historical hijacker!

Margaret Brown is a favorite historical figure of mine so I am happy to have been able to "be" her for a few days and share a little bit about her story. Contrary to popular belief, Margaret Brown was never called "Molly" while she was alive - the character of The Unsinkable Molly Brown was the product of fictionalized accounts of her life published in magazines in the 1930's and 40's. She was, however, a remarkable woman:

• She raised funds to build both the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception and St. Joseph's hospital in Denver, CO.
• She worked to establish the first juvenile court system in the country.
• She spoke 4 languages
• She raised 5 children: two of her own, and three nieces & nephews
• She ran for Senate 8 years before women even had the right to vote.
• By the time she disembarked the Carpathia in New York, she had raised $10,000 to help Titanic's destitue survivors.
• When she learned that she would be prevented from testifying at the Titanic hearings because she was a woman, Margaret was so incensed that she wrote her own version of the events and had it published Denver, New York, and Paris newspapers.

Thanks for everyone who played along, and thanks to my regular readers for allowing this brief interruption! amandarin.net will return to its regularly scheduled quips and observations on Monday. :-)

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This post has been brought to you by the Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign. Read the blogs. Guess the identities of the Guest Bloggers. Win prizes. Then, go out and buy Paul's book!

April 15? 16?, 1912

I have no idea what day it is. I think it's been less than 24 hours since I was reading in my room aboard the Titanic, but the hours since then have been a cold, horrific blur... I can't be sure.

Words fail me, and yet now that I am safe and dry aboard the Carpathia I've borrowed a few sheets of paper and a pencil so that I can record these events while they are still fresh in my mind.

The Titanic has sunk... the ship that could not sink now rests at the bottom of the ocean, along with at least 1000 souls.

I heard a hollow thud last night around midnight, followed by the eerie silence of the ship's engines coming to a halt. Soon enough we were rushed out of our cabins, many of the passengers ordering their servants to stay behind and keep the fires burning, or their tea warm.

How little those small things were to matter.

On the deck was complete chaos. Women and children screaming, crew members running helter skelter in a mad frenzy to loose the lifeboats. I saw the first boat launched with only 12 passengers. 12! After that I rolled up my sleeves and began barking orders, trying to get as many people into the boats as possible. Eventually the Quartermaster, Mr. Hichens, forced me to board lifeboat six and leaped in after me, setting us adrift though we were less than half full.

I will never forget the scene of absloute anarchy and desperation on the deck, nor the sound of the quartet as they continued to play, even as the water surged up to their knees.

Once out on the open water and away from the doomed ship, Mr. Hichens became completely unhinged. I was sorely tempted to pitch him over the side as he insisted on alternately proclaiming our doom and abusing the women in the boat, whose nerves were already frayed to the point of breaking.

Mrs. Spencer's little maid, Elise, proved to be invaluable in the face of crisis. As the other women were dithering as to what to do and when to do it, she simple picked up an oar and started to row. The rest of the women soon joined in and we took turns rowing and watching in silent horror as the Titanic broke into two pieces and disappeared into the black water. We were one of the only lifeboats to return and look for survivors after the ship disappeared. Alas, only a few people were left alive to be rescued from the water. Those of us who were left alive tied our boats together and drifted until the Carpathia arrived to retrieve us.

I spent the rest of that night (last night?) helping to sort through the cold, wet masses on Carpathia's decks. So much loss, so much fear... my heart aches with it.

This morning, a few of the other women and I established the Survivor's Committee, a means through which we intend to raise money for destitute survivors. Those of us who are wealthy can simply go home, change our clothes, and try to warm ourselves against the bone-numbing chill of this memory. Others are not nearly so lucky; I am bound and determined to help those souls.

I have told the captain that I will not depart the Carpathia until all Titanic survivors had met with friends, family, or medical/emergency assistance. I feel a measure of responsibility for our small group now; I will see these people safely off the ship.

I am now more certain than ever that the Brown family is, indeed, unsinkable.

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This post has been brought to you by the Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign. Read the blogs. Guess the identities of the Guest Bloggers. Win prizes. Then, go out and buy Paul's book!

April 13, 1912

I've been thinking a lot about J.J today, though I'm not sure why. It's been nearly 3 years since we separated, and yet still he crosses my mind. Perhaps it's because his allowance is what permits me to continue my philanthropic work. Perhaps it's because I'm worried about Larry, and therefore my thoughts turn to the rest of our small family.

Or perhaps it's simply because our lives are inexorably intertwined. 23 years worth of memories don't fade quietly away.

I never intended to marry a miner. I wanted a rich man, but I loved J.J. 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 to the tired old man the things I longed for him. Jim was as poor as we were, and had no better chance in life. I struggled hard with myself in those days. I loved Jim, but he was poor. 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. So I married him.

To this day I've never met a finer, bigger, more worthwhile man than J.J. Brown.

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This post has been brought to you by the Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign. Read the blogs. Guess the identities of the Guest Bloggers. Win prizes. Then, go out and buy Paul's book!

April 12, 1912

This morning I had a chance to explore and I am absolutely bowled over by the sheer opulence of this ship. Swimming pool, gymnasium, library, squash court, turkish bath. Who ever heard of such a thing on an ocean liner? It borders on absurd, really. Wonderful! But absurd.

After walking the length of the upper decks, I sat for awhile and enjoyed the wan sun and fresh, salty air. Who would ever have thought that I, the daughter of Irish immigrants, would find myself on the most luxurious ship in the world? I used to strip tobacco leaves for a living, for heaven's sake, and was resigned to life as a miner's wife. But a bit of thought, some timber, and some hay and bam! suddenly we have a home on Pennsylvania Street and a summer lodge.

Interesting how your life can change in an instant.

After all that walking, I was absolutely famished by the time lunch rolled around. I sat with the Spencers; an affable couple, though a bit dull. Their maid, however, is absolutely charming... a little slip of a girl named Elise. She seems quite overcome by the size of the R.M.S. Titanic; Mrs. Spencer said that she gets lost often! Elise is a clever girl, though. She speaks no English whatsoever (only French - thank heavens I'm fluent), so she carries with her a diagram of the ship with a big red X on her cabin. When she is lost, she simply pulls out the diagram and points to her cabin with a pleading look in her eye. Genius! Apparently the girl is a collector of souvenirs, too... at the end of the meal she took Mr. Spencer's menu and tucked it carefully away in a folio she carried with her. I must remember to set aside my menus for her, in case she's missing a few.

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This post has been brought to you by the Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign. Read the blogs. Guess the identities of the Guest Bloggers. Win prizes. Then, go out and buy Paul's book!

April 11, 1912

Well, we had quite the exciting conversation last night over dinner!

I was lucky enough to be seated with Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews, both of whom were full of interesting stories about the ship's creation. Apparently, there was some excitment when they sailed from Southampton yesterday; as soon they began to move out of the dock, the suction from the propellers caused the liner alongside this one (the Oceanic) to swing outwards, while another liner (the New York, I believe Mr. Ismay said) broke loose altogether and bumped into the Oceanic! Mr. Andrews said that the gangway of the Oceanic simply dissolved. Just when it seemed as though there was going to be a collision with our ship, the tugs pulled the second liner away in the nick of time. Can you imagine? Let's hope that's the last near-collision we'll have for the rest of the trip.

Madeleine was so overcome with fright after hearing the tale that she excused herself immediately to go "rest and soothe her nerves." Honestly, I don't know how that woman doesn't die of fright every time she opens a door.

I was glad to be seated with such engaging dinner companions, but as it turns out I need not have worried about being bored to tears by Ben's wife; she's not on the ship. I don't know who the young woman with him was, actually, he failed to introduce her. She looks young enough to be his granddaughter, but I suspect that their relationship may be... closer.

We are docked now at Queenstown, taking on a few more passengers. Tomorrow morning we sail for New York! I think I'll go out and walk a bit. We've been warned that the weather on the crossing will be very cold, so I should enjoy the view while it's still warm!

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This post has been brought to you by the Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign. Read the blogs. Guess the identities of the Guest Bloggers. Win prizes. Then, go out and buy Paul's book!

April 10, 1912

Must remember to return to Cherbourg some day; it really is lovely in the spring and six hours is hardly enough time to enjoy it, especially after so many days of travelling - I barely know which end is up!

At least the weather is more habitable here than it was in Cairo; it looks as though we'll have calm seas when we set off tonight.

The pace of my travel is, of course, my fault. Lawrence said in his telegram that Larry wasn't so ill to require my cutting short our trip, but I know my son better than that. He must be terribly concerned about Larry to have sent the message in the first place; I decided to return home immediately. I managed to book passage on a ship leaving Cherbourg this evening - how lucky!

Helen has stayed behind in London... I made arrangements for both of us, but at the last minute she decided that she couldn't miss the beginning of her next series of classes at the Sorbonne. She returns to Paris tonight, I believe.

While we were in London it occurred to me that I didn't have a way to book my train tickets from New York to Denver. Since I don't want to waste any time getting home, I sent a message to one of my friends from the Institute; he'll purchase the tickets and make sure they're waiting for me at the dock when I arrive. Where would we be without the telegraph?

Nothing to be done now but relax as we steam westward... I'm off to dress for dinner. Here's hoping that my dinner companions won't be too tedious; I saw Ben in the hallway earlier - God save me from having to make conversations with his wife. She is as dull as toast.

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This post has been brought to you by the Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign. Read the blogs. Guess the identities of the Guest Bloggers. Win prizes. Then, go out and buy Paul's book!

Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign

This is just a reminder that starting tomorrow, and for the duration of this week, a historical figure will be hikacking my blog! In fact, this week 41 anonymous voices will come forward out of history to share a bit of their lives with us.

Why?

They're all part of the Grassroots Blogger Book Campaign in support of Paul Davidson's new book, The Lost Blogs.

Read the blogs. Guess the identities of the Guest Bloggers. Win prizes. Then, go out and buy Paul's book!