by J. F. Collen
Cornelia pulled her sister forward and they walked closer to the velocipede exhibit to examine the vehicle.
“Armistead, inquire as to the expense of this contraption,” Cornelia directed. “Agnes, you shall wear the mantle ‘standard bearer’ of our well-bred, sophisticated way of life here in New York. Take comfort in this technology we see amassed around us. Allow it to ease your disquiet. When the entirety of this ingenuity and these time-saving devices are incorporated into our daily lives, it will be possible to sail the vast distance to Chicago from New York and I shall surely come a-calling!”
Agnes did not look any happier.
Cornelia tried a different tack. “Anyone for a stop at any one of the fine saloons in and around this palace for a short rest and some refreshing sarsaparilla?” Agnes still looked more dour than usual.
“How about oysters?” Nellie asked, trying again to cheer her sister, this time with the promise of her favorite food. She switched Emma to her other arm and linked her elbow into her sister’s. “Come let us discourse on other topics and enjoy this unexpected gift of sharing the marvels of this Exposition together.”
The gentlemen followed them to the oyster bar, already deep in their own conversation about the underhanded maneuvers of the defense attorneys in the trial of the officers of the Henry Clay.
Chapter 13 – An Innocent Man
Sing Sing, New York, November 1853
Obadiah put down his fork, frowning at his plate still half full of food. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him put his elbows on the table, rest his head on his hands, and slump forward.
Nellie looked up from the ground carrots and broth she stirred as she fed Emma. How uncharacteristic—such poor table manners, and a dejected air.
“My dear Mr. Wright, what causes a distress so deep it obliterates a gentleman’s ability to civilly partake in his fine, nighttime repast?” she asked, trying to joke him out of his mood.
Not altering his position in the least, Obadiah said, “The jury returned a verdict today in the trial of The United States versus Collyer, Tallman, Germain, Hubbard, Jessup, and Elmendorf.”
Nellie gave a sharp intake of breath and sat up straighter, upsetting Emma’s puréed carrots. She ignored the fact that Emma now splashed her hands in her food and waited for Obadiah to continue.
“They deliberated for less than thirty minutes over the accountability of the principles of the Henry Clay disaster,” he said, still looking down at the table.
Nellie waited.
“Hopping horse feathers, the defense attorneys employed brilliant strategies.” Obadiah banged his hand on the table. Emma kept squishing her carrots, unperturbed. “They invented all kinds of fanciful defenses—Collyer was not at the helm, the aft of the ship where the passengers were trapped after being instructed to go there, could be safer if there was a danger of the smokestack falling, the shaking of the boat was due solely to the ebb tide and the southerly breeze creating rough water....” Obadiah put his head in his hands.
“Then I take it the verdict was not guilty?” asked Nellie, laying her hand on Obadiah’s.
He sighed. “It was the inevitable conclusion, based on Judge Ingersoll’s direction to the jury. Ingersoll had obviously prejudiced himself and predetermined there was not enough evidence to convict these men of manslaughter.”
“But how is that possible? The boat traveled at an unsafe rate of speed, someone jimmied open the steam engine’s safety valve, the officers admitted they engaged in racing the Armenia, passengers pleaded for caution and warned the officers of impending disaster, there were no fire buckets, there was no line thrown, no direction from the crew, no small boats dispatched....” Nellie slumped back in her chair. Oblivious to Emma’s antics, Nellie sat with her mouth open in disbelief at the verdict as the baby smeared her carrots all over the table and the sides of her high chair.
“The jury had to consider the charge of whether the defendants’ misconduct, negligence, or inattention to their duty, destroyed the life of any person on board,” said Obadiah.
“Most assuredly it did! The crew neglected to release steam at each landing, as required by law,” said Nellie. “The steam pressure Patrick recalled seeing, and the newspapers listed, generated by over-stoking their fire, well exceeded the certified amount approved for the vessel.”
“How could you know the amount stated on the certificate?” asked Obadiah.
“I recall—I saw the certificate myself!”
“How in tarnation?” Now Obadiah’s mouth gaped open.
“I spent time chasing Perpetua around the ladies’ cabin. At one point, I leaned against the wall to catch my breath, and avoid Mutter’s stares of reprobation, and noticed the certificate, hung in its usual place, on the right-hand side of the ladies’ parlor. Pshaw, there was a plethora of potential witnesses as to the buildup of steam. Were none of them called? Certainly, Papa could have testified as to the steam pressure.”
“The defense lawyers made mince-meat out of most of the witnesses called. They were merciless. They not only attacked the credibility of the witnesses, they criticized and chastised each witness for his response to the disaster. Passenger John H. Gourlie, who testified that none of the accused helped rescue any passengers, was asked why he stayed on the beach assisting victims, rather than saving fellow passengers drowning in the water. Gourlie replied, ‘I did what humanity required’. Defense Attorney McMahon sneered, ‘Humanity, I suppose, did not require you to wet your feet.’”
Nellie winced in empathy for the witness who was forced in the name of justice to relive the disaster and testify truthfully as to specifics, only to be treated so caustically.
Obadiah shook his head. “Make no mistake, prosecutors exhibited flashes of brilliance as well, establishing many key facts which pointed to the defendant’s culpability. Passenger James F. DePeyster testified after the ‘alarm of fire’ was given, the only crewmember he saw during the whole disaster was the man forbidding passengers to go forward on the ship. If the crew had done their duty, he swore, ‘they could have escaped as I did.’ The DePeyster name is so well established around these parts... blazes! It goes back to the Dutch settlers... the defense did not dare harass him. Howsoever, most of the prosecution’s witnesses were attacked, even if just to prove, in the long amount of time since the Inquest, their memories had become vaguer, their eyesight faultier and their ability to identify the defendants more unreliable.”
Obadiah shook his head, and his shoulders sank as if the whole burden of the disaster pressed them downward. “The attorneys for the prosecution never stooped to conquer. No foul play sullied their cross examinations. They sought the truth from the defendants, set the bar high, and the defense never rose to meet that standard.”
Obadiah remained silent for a moment. He takes this unfavorable verdict to heart. Nellie’s mind raced, seeking words of consolation, but she could not summon any. She too felt bereft at the injustice of the verdict.
“Passenger Lloyd Minturn is another example—both threatened and insulted by defense attorneys.” Obadiah raised his head and sketched more details of his grievances with the trial. “After giving testimony that incriminated the defendants on several key points, the defense attorney told Minturn, ‘Oh, yes, you are very brave when there is no danger.’ Often, it appeared the witnesses were on trial rather than the officers of the ship. I am quite certain this tactic confused the jury. Your father fared better than most, but unfortunately, his testimony on the excessive amount of steam pressure was stricken from the record, as the defense objected that your father had not been established as an expert qualified to comment on the correct amount of pressure required,” said Obadiah.
He sighed again. “I suppose the judge is right—the evidence was perhaps not strong enough to prove the causality of their actions. And perhaps, as Judge Ingersoll said on more than one occasion, those accused have already suffered huge financial loss, loss of reputation, and public scorn. What is to be gained by sent
encing them all to ten years of hard labor?”
“They would have landed right back in Sing Sing where they belong—just a different address,” said Nellie.
Obadiah raised an eyebrow in question.
“At Sing Sing Prison,” she said, looking at him askance. ‘Tis not like Obadiah to miss such an obvious joke. His anger at this inequity overwhelms him.
Emma squealed in delight. Nellie glanced down at her baby.
“Tarnation!” she exclaimed, catching Emma’s hands, preventing the baby from smashing the last bit of puree on the table and sending more sticky mush into the air.
She looked up at Obadiah, seeking his aid, or a towel, or something.
His eyebrows knit in anger, he said, “What sloth is this, enabling our daughter’s slovenly mess?”
Nellie dropped Emma’s hands in surprise at his hostile reaction. Mercy, I know full well he detests sticky untidiness, but he must not vent his ill humor on our innocent child! “I-I beg your pardon. I fear my distress at your news so thoroughly overcame me....”
Thwat! Hands liberated, Emma retrieved some carrot mush from the side of her chair and threw it at Nellie. It smacked her in the face.
Obadiah burst out laughing.
Thank you Lord, she did not throw it at Obadiah. He certainly would not find any amusement in being the receiving end of that prank. She joined his laughter and picked up her messy baby, smothering her with kisses, making herself as carrot smeared as her daughter. You are the gift of joy, my precious daughter.
She looked at Obadiah, who was frowning again. “Cornelia Rose, now you are both quite revolting and your person appears quite a repulsive muddle.”
“My apron was already smeared, and my face is washable,” replied Cornelia. “How very distraught you must indeed be, to call this little, cherubic face revolting, no matter in what it is smeared.”
Obadiah looked at them both and his face softened.
“Let us thank God again we were spared the fate of so many of our fellow passengers on the Henry Clay,” she said. “Moreover, since our judicial system has failed us, let us take heart that the legislative branch of our government, at least, has responded with several pieces of new legislation to ensure this type of disaster never again occurs.”
Obadiah still looked doubtful. “Mayhap there is a possibility of appeal,” he said.
“In the meantime, I for one, shall delight in our little vaudevillian,” Nellie said, hugging Emma tight. Emma cooed with happiness and brushed her sticky hands against Nellie’s hair as she reached her arms around Nellie’s neck and returned her mother’s hug.
Obadiah shook his head.
“My hair is also washable,” said Nellie with a smile and a shrug. Shouldering the burden of all the washing in the world is a mere pittance to pay for my first real embrace from my baby.
Chapter 14 – Top of the World
New York City, January 1854
I am standing atop The Latting Observatory. Looking down from the wooden tower. I am perched upon the tallest building in the world! Nellie drew in her breath and felt her stomach do a weird flip-flop. Tarnation, I must avoid looking directly down. Could I be acrophobic? I suppose I have never experienced elevation quite this high. The top of the Croton Distributing Reservoir seems a tremendous distance below me. I can see across the river, deep into the bucolic beauty of New Jersey. OOOOO. Nellie felt a wave of dizziness. Her one free hand shot out and clutched at the railing.
“Cornelia, you must be careful—do not approach the edge of the viewing platform,” cautioned Obadiah.
“Of course. I shall view from behind the safety of this telescope.” Nellie gave a nod, and clasped Emma tighter, stepping back. This is far superior. I still thrill at the bird’s eye view, but avoid the wooziness engendered by the extreme height. “Pshaw, to think, I imagined I floated in the clouds when we merely stood atop the Murray Hill Reservoir.” Nellie giggled to Obadiah.
“I confess, the view does quite take my breath away,” Obadiah agreed. “In spite of increasing anticipation as we labored the three-hundred-foot ascent to the top platform of the structure, the vista astounds me. The more fatigued I became, the more determined I grew that the view should be worth the strenuous effort. Still, my enormous expectations did not prepare me for the wonderful panorama that seems to afford a view sixty miles away. There is not a finer, farther view anywhere in the world.” Obadiah’s head swiveled around, owl-like, as he spoke.
“Unsurpassed, even in London, The Great Wren, or Paris, The City of Light,” Nellie agreed, her gaze sweeping to the far reaches of the horizon and then back down on the streets below. But not directly below, Nellie cautioned herself, as a wave of nausea threatened again the moment her eyes glanced straight down. “The vast stretches of land are astounding!” she exclaimed. “What a tremendous contrast the grandeur and stillness of nature makes to the teeming human hive crowded in the apiary of streets below.”
“Verily,” said Obadiah. “The view from the top of the Great Pyramid of Giza holds no candle in comparison to this spectacle.” They stood, arm in arm, with Nellie’s other arm wrapped around Emma, transfixed, as if memorizing every detail of the scene, from directly below them, to far off in the distance.
At last Obadiah said, “While I am loath to leave this view, I do believe the taxing climb has hastened my digestion. I am quite desirous of a morsel or two. What say you to an early luncheon?”
“I confess an invigorated appetite as well,” admitted Cornelia. “But I am averse to averting my eyes from this marvelous sight.”
“I agree,” said Obadiah. “Therefore, I propose we lunch at the saloon on the middle platform, an impressive 225 feet above street level. Thus, we can return to the peak for another peek before our descent from the heavens to the street.”
Nellie giggled at his pun and rhyme in happy agreement. Obadiah kept a firm hand on her arm, supporting her and steering her as they began their descent. “I thought I read a steam elevator was designed for this structure, so that those less hardy could still partake of the view,” Nellie said over her shoulder as she carefully placed her feet on the narrow stairs.
“I read that in the Tribune as well,” confirmed Obadiah, now walking in front of her so he could better lead her down the winding staircase. “But think on it—to date the tallest elevator system can only climb 75 feet. To reach the entire 315-foot zenith of this tower would necessitate installation of several sets of elevators.”
“Mayhap Otis’ new braking system shall inspire creation of elevators with greater height capacity,” replied Nellie to the back of Obadiah’s head as they continued down the stairs. She smiled at him as they lingered at a landing. “On second thought, if the steam elevator made the climb for the visitor, there would be no need for the many resting landings, nor any of the pushcarts of enticing merchandise. We must keep in mind, the building was designed not for its architectural beauty but for its commercial purposes.”
In short order, the maître d’hôtel seated them at a table, and scurried away to retrieve an appetizer of oysters. Nellie smiled at Obadiah, watching him hug Emma and look out the large windows at the view from this height. She whispered, “I thank the Lord for all his kindness. I thought my joy would fill the world when we stood on Coney Island looking at the sea. Yet, here we are, two years later, even more rapturous for the miracle of Emma.”
Obadiah’s eyes glinted with tears as he grasped her hand across the table and drew it to his heart. “My love, my heart responds with an emphatic ‘amen’. You are my joy. Moreover, now we are a family. Could any man want more?
“As a small token of my great, ineffable happiness, I present you with a trinket, selected specially to mark the occasion of our second anniversary and the beginning of our blessed little family. Our family will be the indestructible nucleus of our long lives together.”
Nellie took the little blue box, noticing the mark of “Tiffany & Co.” stamped upon it. She opened it to see a lustrous seed pe
arl bracelet ensconced in cloudlike white tissue paper.
“Obadiah,” she said in a breathy voice. “This is utterly exquisite. Mercy, I recognize it as the bracelet I coveted on display at the Exposition. I am quite taken aback by your extravagance.”
“It matches your necklace—my gift on the day we exchanged matrimonial vows.” Obadiah beamed.
“How clever of you, my dear Mr. Wright.” Nellie laughed. She clasped the bracelet around her slender wrist and admired the fine craftsmanship and the perfectly formed pearls. “Mr. Charles Lewis Tiffany has quite outdone himself. This ornament deserves its acclaim as an award-winning piece of art.”
“You noticed it won an award at the Fair,” observed Obadiah. “How clever of my reward of a wife!”
Nellie smiled. Obadiah waggled his finger at her and teased, “Although you did spend a fair amount of time hovering over that casket. If you hadn’t noticed the accolades for this jewelry, I might have inferred a diminution of your acumen.”
After a sumptuous lunch, they once more mounted the heights of the tower and spent another long while drinking in the view, arm in arm while Emma napped peacefully on Cornelia’s shoulder.
After they had circled the viewing platform for the third time, and again looked through each of the six telescopes, Cornelia looked down on the Crystal Palace and noticed there was no line of people waiting for entry to the Fair. “We simply must have another look at the marvelous displays in the Exhibition of the Industries of All Nations. As you will recall, the time to view the entries from France or England eluded us; the only in-depth exhibits we saw were from Denmark and Canada.”
“The wisdom in paying the entire entry fee for only an afternoon visit escapes me. Think on it. Fifty cents is often the lion’s share of a day’s wages. Some poor chaps fail to earn even half that in an entire day’s work.” Obadiah shook his head.
