Chapter 1

August1902

Newport, Rhode Island

Florence Jaffray Hurst Harriman swept into the drawing room, the lace under her trumpet skirt swishing ominously. "It's absolutely

outrageous," she announced, coming to a stop equidistant between the two wing chairs where her husband, Borden Harriman, and

their friend Charles MacDonald, who was visiting Newport for the month, were both nose deep in their respective evening papers.

Bordie was the first to look up. He smiled indulgently at his wife.

Daisy recognized that look, but at the moment she was in no mood to be indulged. "You'd think we were living in the Middle

Ages and not 1902," she continued, since neither one of the men seemed inclined to ask her what she was upset about. "It's

the twentieth century, for heaven's sake."

"What is it, my dear?" Bordie asked.

"I need to go down to the city for a day or two to run a few errands that I didn't have time to do before we left for Newport,

and since the townhouse is being renovated, I don't have any place to stay. I just had MissGleason call the Waldorf to reserve

a room and they refused her. Even though she told them it was for me. The concierge said they did not cater to unaccompanied

ladies, no matter who they were. The very idea. I have a good mind—"

Bordie broke in before she could continue. "Well, why don't you stay with one of your friends? I'm sure Anne Morgan would be glad to have you. Maybe the both of you could travel down and have a nice afternoon of shopping and errands and such and stay at her house overnight."

"Anne is on the Continent and everyone else is in Newport."

"Have Bordie drive you down," Charles suggested. "You can both stay at the Waldorf."

Bordie put down his paper. "I have no intention of returning to Manhattan; I just arrived in Newport yesterday evening. And

I'm certainly not staying at the Waldorf or any other hotel if I can possibly help it."

Daisy huffed out her exasperation. "That's because you don't have to. You can stay at the Union Club, or the Princeton Club, or any of your many clubs and be as comfortable as if you were in your

own home, which, I might remind you, is covered in tarps, construction dust, and heaven knows what else."

"She's got you there," added Charles, earning him a sour look from Bordie.

"I suppose I could stay at the YMCA, but MissGleason might balk. Private secretaries do not stay at the Y."

"And neither do the wives of bankers," Bordie retorted.

"If I had a club to go to, which I don't, I'd certainly stay—" She broke off. "Oh, Bordie, you're a genius."

Bordie, who had just returned to his paper, put it down again. "I shudder to think..." he began.

"A club," Daisy exclaimed. "Women should have a club of their own. Just like the men do. A place where we can stay overnight,

have parcels delivered, write letters, make telephone calls, enjoy dinner... that's exactly what we need. How clever of

you to suggest it.

"I think I'll telephone Kate Brice; I bet she'll be interested. Hmm, and Alva Belmont. And Maud Bull, and Emmie..."

Bordie laughed. "That's quite a bevy for an afternoon of errands."

"Sounds more like a tea party," Charles agreed.

"Oh, no," Daisy said. "Not a party, a meeting. We're going to establish a women's club. I don't know why I didn't think of

it before." Daisy whisked out of the room, calling for her secretary and leaving the two men, their papers forgotten, staring

after her and no doubt wondering what on earth Daisy was up to now.

Daisy was up early the next morning, making lists of prospective members of the club. Her mind raced ahead as she imagined

all the comforts and efficiency a club would bring to so many of them. After all, while the men were running banks and railroads

and corporations, women kept houses with numerous staffs and children running smoothly, along with organizing all of their

philanthropic endeavors. It was only fair that these entrepreneurs of society should have a club of their own.

As soon as MissGleason arrived, Daisy put her to work on the next week's schedule and went upstairs to fetch her hat.

An hour later, almost the acceptable hour for morning calls, Daisy took the carriage down to the Astors' Beaulieu cottage,

where Kate Brice was still abed.

"I'm so sorry, did I wake you?" Daisy asked, bustling into the boudoir and smiling at a bleary-eyed Kate.

"Not at all," Kate said on a yawn and pushed herself up to rest against a mound of pillows. "Have you breakfasted? Coffee?"

Daisy's smile broadened. Leave it to Kate to rise to any occasion, any time. Friendly and persuasive, Kate could always be

counted on to do her bit.

"I've had a glorious idea," Daisy said, sitting on the edge of the satin coverlet.

While the maid brought and poured coffee, Daisy explained, "Only a germ of an idea, but a club, just for women."

Kate's eyebrows lifted. "A club?"

"Yes, for women, but run in the same manner as the men's clubs."

"Cigars and port?" asked Kate, only slightly tongue in cheek.

"Certainly... Well, perhaps not cigars. But that's not what I mean. Only that it would operate along the same order as

the men's clubs."

"And what do you know of the operations of men's clubs?"

"Well, I imagine they're run on the same basis as any good hotel, or household, for that matter. And though they may be the

secret bastions of the male creatures, one can imagine. Here's my plan..."

Less than an hour later, Daisy and Kate, hastily coiffed and dressed in a blue silk gingham frock, were driving along Bellevue

Avenue on their way to the first of several morning calls.

Four calls later, they were climbing back into the carriage.

"Three interested and one undecided," said Daisy. "But Adelaide Gibson never decides anything without picking it to death

first. She'll come around. Shall we have lunch at Bailey's Beach?"

"Yes, indeed," Kate said enthusiastically.

The private beach club of the Newport elite was doing a robust noontime trade. And Daisy and Kate, who had gained enthusiasm

with each stop, managed to snag two more society dames interested in hearing about the proposed club.

Appetites appeased and energy restored, they began a series of afternoon visits, and by the last call, Daisy had issued at

least a dozen invitations to tea the following Thursday.

She dropped Kate off at Beaulieu and had the carriage return home.

"Not bad for a day's work," Daisy said, stripping off her gloves and depositing her hat with the waiting parlormaid, before

striding into the parlor to find Bordie and Charles sitting in exactly the same places as she'd left them the night before.

"Back from the city already?" Bordie asked, not really thinking. It would have been nigh impossible to get to the city and

back again in one day, much less accomplish errands while there. For an intelligent man, he could sometimes...

"Yes, dear." Daisy left them to their papers and hurried to her office, where MissGleason was also seated in the same place

where Daisy had left her that morning. However, unlike the men, MissGleason had organized Daisy's week, tallied the weekly

expenses, and separated the mail into neat stacks to be perused, answered, or handed back to MissGleason for their reply.

And Daisy thought, as she had many times, that, underappreciated though they might be, women's efficiency and good sense was

the glue that held a well-run organization together. It just made her more optimistic about the idea of a place where women

could go to exchange ideas with like-minded women.

She'd barely sat down at her desk when the first RSVP arrived.

Dear Daisy, I'm sorry to have to decline your lovely invitation for tea. Mr.Starrett has put his foot down. He says that

the place for a women's club is in her home. He was most adamant that I have nothing to do with such a venture. I wish you

the best of luck with your club idea and I hope to see you at the Havemeyer soiree on Friday.

Well, she should have expected something like that. But no matter, there were plenty of society ladies who knew how to circumvent

their husband's reactionary views about a woman's place in society.

She tossed the note into the trash basket. "Kate Brice and I made the rounds today. All in all, it was a fruitful enterprise, though we did receive several ‘My husband wouldn't approve.' Lord, if we waited for our husbands to approve, we wouldn't even get dinner on the table. At least I have a slightly enlightened husband in Mr. Harriman."

Not being married herself, MissGleason wisely held her peace.

"And Eben Rollins Morse, who happened to be home at Villa Rosa, actually said, ‘Women shouldn't have clubs—they'll only use

them as addresses for clandestine letters.' Which makes one wonder what actually goes on in men's clubs."

Daisy pushed away from her writing desk and walked over to the fireplace, its unused grate covered with a floral fire screen

for the summer.

"It seems like for every woman who shows interest in a new idea, there are ten men telling us we can't or shouldn't, or ridiculing

the very idea of women meeting on their own to carry on conversations that aren't about fashion or children."

She adjusted a pair of Dresden swans on the mantel and turned back to MissGleason.

"Women have every right to a place of their own where they can relax and discuss whatever they care to. I have every hope

of succeeding."

But by the time the first meeting of the women's club assembled in her parlor the following week, six ladies had found it

necessary to beg off. Only two of them made the excuse of prior engagements. The others had been dissuaded from participating

by their husbands.

Those who attended were quite enthusiastic and, over tea cakes and watercress sandwiches, they tossed around ideas as easily

as a badminton cock on a sunny afternoon. MissGleason was enlisted to take minutes, and it quickly became evident to Daisy

that it wouldn't be long before she would need to hire a separate secretary for "the club," as she'd begun to think of it.

Everyone had questions.

"When will we meet? We're all so busy with the season between September and the new year."

"Which is exactly why we need a place to relax during our busy days out," Daisy answered.

" Where will we meet?" asked Maud Bull.

"Depends on how many members we attract."

"Thirty? Maybe forty?" asked Emmie Winthrop, rather wide-eyed.

"A hundred at least," said Daisy, "or it won't be a club."

"Well, it all depends on what we offer. What will we do at the meetings?"

"We'll have various speakers of interest," Daisy explained. "Concerts, readings, talks on current events... We can hold

receptions, tea parties, whatever we want. But first and foremost, it will have rooms for members to stay overnight when visiting

the city." Daisy's remark activated a pregnant pause.

"Without our husbands?"

"Yes," said Daisy, "that's the whole point."

"Absolutely. Only the essentials," Kate quipped. "No husbands. But a room for one's maid, of course."

"Kate, really," said Lillian Stevens. "My Albert... Well, I just don't know. Besides, I never travel without him."

"That's just the point. Now you will be able to."

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," said Mary Dick, who was older than the others but already had experience in

forming working girls clubs. "Remember why you're starting this club."

"Because Daisy couldn't get a room at the Waldorf." Helen Barney sighed. "Though why she would want to..."

"That was just the tinder that inspired me to create a place where we can be ourselves, luncheon among ourselves, focus on

issues that matter to us—"

"And the country," interjected Alva Belmont.

"Definitely," Daisy agreed. "Situations that reach beyond us but that we should have a voice in."

Lillian groaned audibly. "Not women's suffrage again."

"Why not?" snapped Alva Belmont, who had declared herself a suffragist long before most of them had ever heard of the word.

"Just because you're satisfied to let your husband make decisions for you..."

That raised a few eyebrows since Alva was on her second husband, having divorced William K.Vanderbilt five years before to

marry his friend Oliver Belmont.

"Most of us know our—"

"Ladies, ladies." Daisy's voice broke over their heads. "This is just why we need such a club; a place to discuss ideas in

the open, express our opinions—respectfully, of course—and perhaps learn to think in different ways. Discuss, debate, then

go out and act."

"Yes," agreed Anne Morgan in her serious voice. "And we must have a gymnasium with a running track. Strong mind in a strong

body."

Maud Bull raised her hand. "I second that. No more having to reserve time with Mr.Keenan and his gymnasium. It's so lowering."

Several of the ladies groaned.

"Yes," said Kate Brice. "If we must exercise, let us have a club where we can get it over with and then go downstairs to lunch."

She reached for another cucumber sandwich.

Emmie Winthrop sighed. "I just want somewhere to play lawn tennis without having to take the carriage all the way out to Queens."

"Tennis? But where will we ever find such a space? Even if we rented out a whole floor of some building."

"We could rent one of the meeting rooms at the Plaza," suggested Maud.

"For tennis? We'll need someone's ballroom," said Emmie.

"Well, you're not playing tennis in my ballroom."

"No, no," Daisy assured them. "We'll need a space for that, and for lectures and concerts, and..."

"The roof of one of the hotels," Emmie suggested, clearly enamored with the idea. "Perhaps the Plaza."

"If you think I'm going to chase your serves down eight flights of stairs, think again," said Kate.

"Bridge," said Maud.

"Bridge? What bridge?"

Maud rolled her eyes, clearly forgetting her manners. "The card game."

"No gambli—"

"And debates," added Alva, cutting off further conversation about card games or tennis.

"And concerts and edifying lectures." Lillian jutted out her chin and glared at Alva.

"Good heavens," exclaimed Margaret Norrie. "We'll need an entire building to accommodate such things. Even the Princeton Club doesn't have all these things."

"Which is all the more reason why the first New York women's club should," said Daisy. It was a daunting prospect. She hadn't

really gotten that far in her imaginings. No further than a nice sitting room with writing desks and a comfortable well-appointed

bedroom and bath, where she could awaken in comfort, refreshed and ready to face the day. Suddenly her mind was snowballing

with new possibilities and the enormity of the potential that lay before them. Not just a place of refuge, but where they

would have a voice, make a difference in the world around them. A real difference.

"If we want to attract members," said Mary Dick, the voice of experience, "we should think of a name. Having a name makes

it stick in the mind. Besides, we can't just keep calling it the club . People will get the wrong idea. It leaves the mind to wander in undesirable directions, imagine all sorts of inappropriate

things."

But as with most things among the ladies, they all had suggestions, but agreement on what that name should be was much harder to come by.

"The City Club, for when we're in town."

"Already taken by the men."

"Town Club?"

No one was very enthusiastic about that one.

"The Liberty Club!" exclaimed Helen. "Because while we're there, we'll be free."

They considered that for a few minutes.

"Too political sounding," Lillian pointed out.

Alva pursed her lips, but left what she was thinking to the others' imaginations.

The afternoon flew by. The tea cakes and sandwiches disappeared and the sherry magically appeared. They made plans to meet

again when they all returned to the city, but just before they adjourned, Margaret Norrie called out, "The Colony Club, because

we're like the original colonists, but where they explored a new land and made it their home, the club will be the home of

new ideas, new associations, and progress."

They all agreed that it was the perfect name and reluctantly departed just in time to rush home to prepare themselves for

dining or a ball or a concert or any of the other possibilities Newport offered its summer residents.

When the door finally closed behind the last departure, Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. "It's invigorating to see such enthusiasm,

don't you think?"

MissGleason nodded but kept writing in her notebook. She had filled more than a few pages since tea was served.

"The Colony Club. It's turning into more than a modest little brownstone where we could stay overnight, entertain a few friends,

and have some lunch."

"Indeed," said the still-writing MissGleason.

"But what we didn't discuss at all is how are we to finance the club."

"True," agreed MissGleason.

"What we need is a planning committee."

"So you are not dissuaded?"

"Heavens, no. The women of Manhattan want a women's club, and they shall have it."

April18, 1963

Washington, D.C.

"Mrs.Harriman?"

Daisy pulled her mind from the past and gazed at the still-enthusiastic-looking young reporter.

"What happened next?"

Daisy smiled ruefully. "Sadly, not much at first.

"Little did I know that it would take almost two years before we actually broke ground. It may seem like a long time these

days, but back then we were busy with our regular social obligations, and trips to Europe, and our summer estates. We did

manage to form a steering committee. And secure the financing, thanks to Anne Morgan, who convinced her father, J. P., to form a men's advisory board, who provided the funds for a new clubhouse."

Daisy leaned over and patted the journalist's hand. "Don't look so surprised. In those days, enlisting men was really the

only way to get large sums of money. But not to worry, we had no intention of letting them rule the Colony Club.

"We began holding meetings at members' houses or rented assembly rooms, but at last we bought property on Madison Avenue,

and the Colony Club was truly born."

January1903

Manhattan

"Well, we did it." Daisy shivered and pulled her mink coat more tightly around her. She wasn't cold; she was excited and just

a little daunted as she and Anne Morgan stood on the sidewalk across the street from 120–124 Madison Avenue, the site that

would become the Colony Club.

She'd signed the papers that morning at the bank, with the newly appointed treasurer, Anne Morgan, and Bordie and J. P. in

attendance to give the two women credence. Anne had handed over a check for $400,000.

Daisy, who had utmost faith in the club, had nonetheless quaked in her fur-lined winter boots as the check changed hands.

There was no going back now, even if they wanted to, which none of them did.

Now Anne stood at Daisy's side on the sidewalk, both fairly humming with excitement and a sense of amazement and pride.

Passersby hurried around them, anxious to get out of the biting cold. If they did slow down, they must have wondered what

possessed two ladies swathed in mink and sable from head to toe to be standing still as statues in the middle of pedestrian

traffic.

"Hooray for us," said Anne in her husky voice. "Now let's go inform the others. They must be beside themselves with anticipation."

She raised her hand and motioned to her carriage, which immediately pulled up next to the curb. The foot warmers inside were

welcome even after a mere few minutes standing in the cold.

The carriage rattled forward, and in a few minutes the two women were entering Daisy's row house, where forty committee members

of the Colony Club were waiting in the newly decorated ballroom.

Forty , thought Daisy, and growing daily. MissGleason was doing double duty as secretary, and even though she was incredibly efficient,

Daisy hated to impose on her for much longer. The Colony Club might be foremost on Daisy's mind, but she did have other duties

and responsibilities to attend to.

A huge cry of hurrah rose up as they entered the ballroom; fervent applause followed, only dying out when Daisy, as the duly

elected president, walked to the front and pounded a gavel on the speaker's podium.

"This meeting of the Colony Club will now come to order."