Chapter 20

April18, 1963

Washington, D.C.

"Looking back on those days, it's amazing we got anything done. Between nonstop socializing during the season, the trips abroad

and summers away, our lives were full of disruptions and distractions. On a certain date we'd drop whatever we were doing

and leave for the Continent. We'd return at the beginning of summer with new wardrobes and our heads filled with art, enduring

the city's heat only long enough to change wardrobes and take off to Newport or one of the other resorts.

"It was a different time, and we depended so much on other people getting the work done for us. I think if we had realized

what a precarious place that put us in without a master on board to finalize everything, we might have pulled out of the deal

and settled for someone else. Stanford was spending most of his time on buying trips to Europe and visiting friends and enjoying

life as if he didn't have a care—or a responsibility—in life. But even at his most exasperating, Stanford was a genius who

never scrimped or cut corners.

"So like every year before and after, we left the summer of 1905, content to let others do the work and make the decisions:

Stanford's young assistant to oversee the construction site, one young girl to manage the entirety of the club's interior.

"I look back on that time now with a certain embarrassment of how blasé we were about something that meant so much to us all. Having seen so much happen in the world since then makes me truly grateful for those two young people and all the workmen who sweated through the summer for our future endeavors.

"That summer was particularly sans souci, but by September when people began drifting back to the city to prepare for the

festivities of the season, there was one thing uppermost in our minds: to finish the clubhouse so that we could have a fall

opening the following year.

"The first thing I planned to do when I returned from Newport was to go to the assembly room and seek out Nora. With Elsie

still in Europe, spending several times the amount of our original budget, I was anxious to make sure everything was in order

and ready to go full steam ahead on her return. But there was still the regatta and the national championship at the Newport

Tennis Club to be attended, and the end of August seemed so far away..."

N ora brushed her sleeve across her forehead to keep the sweat from running into her eyes or dropping on the drafting paper.

Summer was upon them, and the heat and humidity scraped at everyone's tempers. Tools slipped from sweaty hands. Splinters

festered more quickly, light heads and tepid drinking water led the men to take longer lunch breaks and even longer visits

to the local tavern in the afternoon.

Nora made the rounds each day: her office, the site, office, site. Twice a week she reported to the MMW offices in case they got any ideas of moving her out while she was working elsewhere. On those evenings after everyone had left for the day, Nora met the secretaries downstairs for Higgie's French lesson. Afterward, they would often stroll through Madison Square Park, eating rapidly melting ice cream cones and laughing over the latest company gossip. Sometimes they would take supper in one of the small canteens along Twenty-third Street. And Nora began to realize that she had friends at last.

Sunday dinners resumed at Louise and Donner's, though only once a month, which Nora thought they were all grateful for. The

baby had moved into Mama and Rina's room permanently, and Nora felt the full weight of her responsibilities.

Each visit, she begged Rina to hang on just for another year. By then, if all went well, she would have a secure income and

they could be together again. After dinner she'd make the trip back to her room at the Parker Hotel with their future weighing

heavily on her heart, and she'd fall into bed, knowing that the heat would keep her from sleeping, but not being able to sit

or stand for another moment.

The Colony Club transformed from a shell of concrete, brick, and steel to a lovely Colonial Revival building. Inside, the

interior walls went up. The upper floors were installed. Doors, windows, and alcoves were finished and outlets for electricity

and water were ready to be connected.

Nora organized fabric swatches, paint and wallpaper samples until her eyes blurred. Relayed messages to and from Elsie to

artists and craftsmen whom she'd hired for specific purposes. The number of artists in her workshop grew until managing their

mail and telegrams alone became nearly a full-time job. At least three times a week, a statue or mantel or whatnot would arrive

that Nora signed for, catalogued, sketched, measured, then repacked to send on to the warehouse. Occasionally she would snatch

a few minutes to work on her own designs.

And sometimes she even saw George.

Then almost without warning the weather turned, not quite so hot, nor so humid, and with the weather came the ladies of the Colony Club.

So Nora wasn't totally surprised when, one night, Mrs.Harriman knocked on the office door. She was dressed for the evening

in a rose-colored gown trimmed with lace and gold fleur-de-lis.

Nora jumped to her feet, aware of her own appearance, her skirt and shirtwaist covered with sawdust from the latest arrival.

Her hair unkempt and flying about her face. "Welcome back, Mrs.Harriman."

"It's wonderful to be back. I don't want to interrupt your work," she said. "We were just driving by on our way to dinner

and I had an idea."

Oh, heavens, not any more changes.

She had to snatch her attention back to what Mrs.Harriman was saying. "...have asked me to speak along with some others

on the state of tenements and tuberculosis in the city. Of course, I'm not an expert, but they wanted someone from the private

sector. Dr.Jamison will also be speaking. And Mr.Almirall, the architect chosen to build a new tuberculosis hospital on

Staten Island."

Mrs.Harriman rummaged in her evening purse and drew out two large paper tickets. "I have these for the lecture. I thought

perhaps you and a friend might like to attend."

Nora automatically looked down at her skirt and graying shirtwaist. It was an automatic response and one that embarrassed

her.

"There will be people from all walks of life there. It's not a dress affair," Mrs.Harriman said without a hint of condescension.

"I think your ideas will mesh with what Dr.Jamison and I will talk about. And you're bound to learn something from the architect

whether you agree with him or not. You're the future of so many things. I hope you'll come." She placed the tickets on Nora's

drawing desk and said good evening.

When she was gone, Nora picked up the tickets. "New Hope for the Eradication of Tuberculosis." Dr. Ernest Jamison, Mrs. Florence J. Harriman, and Raymond F. Almirall. She'd like to go, but she wouldn't go by herself. And who would she ask?

For a moment she thought to ask George; he was an architect and would be interested, but she didn't know how to go about it.

Or if it would be too forward. So when she met with the secretaries for their French lesson, she asked if one of them would

like to go.

Sadie shivered. "Too depressing. And it's on a Friday night."

"And what would you be doing on a Friday night that's so important?" asked Lavinia.

Sadie shrugged one shoulder. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Don't tell me Fergus finally asked you to the pictures."

"Well, he did, sort of. He said sometime would I like to maybe go... so I'm keeping my Friday nights open until he asks

me."

Lavinia sighed and shook her head. "Thanks, Nora, but it doesn't really sound like something I want to hear."

Nora tried not to show her disappointment. She'd been hoping that one of them might be interested.

"Actually, I would like to hear what they have to say," Higgie said. "And I just happen to have this Friday free."

Sadie rolled her eyes. "You always have Friday nights free. You never go anywhere."

"And we know for a fact," Lavinia added, "that several of the guys upstairs have asked you out."

"Maybe I'm waiting for the man of my dreams," Higgie said.

Lavinia and Sadie both groaned. "Better look harder or you might have to settle for just all right."

"Or wind up an old maid," Sadie added with a shudder.

"Hey, where's your spirit of the modern-day woman? It's the man of my dreams or a successful career as bookkeeper-secretary

for a famous architectural firm." She smiled smugly. "Or maybe even both."

"Still, I wouldn't wait too long," Lavinia said.

It was decided. Friday after work, Nora and Higgie set off from the McKim, Mead, and White offices to take the trolley downtown

to Cooper Union.

Nora was shocked at the rush of fondness and nostalgia she felt entering the Great Hall, the rows of hard, closely packed

seats, everyone pushing through the doors as soon as they opened and scrambling to choose a seat so as not to get stuck behind

one of the vaulted columns that would obstruct their view of the speaker.

Nora presented their tickets and the usher led them down near the front where a section was cordoned off for special guests.

Nora and Higgie exchanged looks and sat down.

Nora was suddenly nervous; she glanced around at other special guests, mostly men in dark suits and beards. Professional men.

A handful of women, several of whom were expensively dressed, patrons perhaps. Others who wore capes denoting their nursing

professions.

"This is quite a crowd," Higgie said, looking around.

"I hope you won't be bored," Nora whispered.

"I don't think so. I like learning everything."

Nora was always surprised when Higgie would mention some odd fact, or something from the newspaper or that she knew a little

French. Higgie didn't speak much about herself or her family. Actually, none of the secretaries did, and that was fine with

Nora. They all had to earn their own way. It was best they didn't compare.

Her thoughts were interrupted as three people, one of them Mrs.Harriman, walked onto the stage and took their seats. They

were followed by another man who stood behind the podium.

"Good evening and welcome. I'm James Tully, Commissioner of Charities, and I'm pleased to introduce our speakers. As you know, our fine city has been plagued by an insidious disease, which we've been attempting to address. We're fortunate to present three speakers this evening... Mrs. Florence J. Harriman..."

Nora sat up straighter and nudged Higgie.

"...who will give us an overview and a projection of the state of the disease in our crowded tenements. Dr.Jamison, who

will present the latest techniques in tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. And Mr.Raymond Almirall, who has been chosen

to design the newest sanitarium in our pursuit of eradicating this dread disease. So without further ado, I give you Mrs.Harriman."

Daisy walked to the podium, nodding graciously to Mr.Tully. "Good evening. It is gratifying to see so many of you here."

She paused, looking over the crowd.

"In the last year alone, the United States saw the deaths of over two hundred thousand citizens from tuberculosis."

She leaned forward over the podium. Nora swore the audience moved closer to her, mesmerized as she wove a story of hardship

and despair, the efforts to clean up the tenements where most of the cases existed. "We have made inroads thanks to people

like you, and physicians like Dr.Jamison and architects like Mr.Almirall and other young architects who are right now studying

to build in a manner that is most efficacious for everyone."

She caught Nora's eye, and Nora's heart swelled.

Higgie leaned toward Nora and nudged her in the ribs. "She's talking about you, Nora."

Nora nodded, blinking back tears.

Mrs.Harriman returned to her seat, Nora wondering how she had ever thought her a silly socialite with only her own comfort

to worry about.

Dr. Jamison took her place and talked about his recent experiences conferring with German doctors, other advancements in the medical sphere, and how early treatment could lead to cures, which shot a stab of grief through Nora's heart. If Jimmy could have just lasted longer.

"And this evening I'm excited to announce that the new hospital proposal, the New York City sanitarium for consumptives, to

be built on Staten Island, has been passed."

Finally the architect, Mr.Almirall, took the stage.

Nora pulled her thoughts back from regret and sadness. The doctor wasn't that old, in his thirties, maybe, but he spoke with

authority and enthusiasm. He'd barely begun before she groped for her notebook and pencil, and began taking notes.

"Mrs.Harriman and Dr.Jamison have enlightened you all about the need for good air, sanitary conditions, and adequate medical

treatment. Building an edifice to accomplish these things is where I come in. To begin with, the ward buildings will be built

in an arc, which is designed to furnish the maximum sun exposure..."

Nora wrote as fast as she could.

"...each of the three pavilions planned will accommodate approximately one hundred patients...

"The entire roof will be a garden where ambulatory patients can..."

Nora's hand was cramping by the time the architect finished and Mr.Tully ended the lecture.

Nora gathered up her things. "I think we should thank Mrs.Harriman for the tickets."

"By all means," Higgie said. "That was fascinating."

Mrs.Harriman was standing in a cluster of people in front of the stage. She saw Nora and Higgie approach and motioned them

over.

Nora introduced Higgie.

"Thank you so much, Mrs.Harriman," said Higgie. "It was such an enlightening talk."

"So glad you enjoyed it." She turned to the other two presenters. "May I introduce Miss Higgins and Miss Nora Bromley, one of the architects on the new Colony Club."

Nora smiled, feeling a little daunted being introduced to the man who was going to design and build the largest tuberculosis

sanitarium in the country.

"Nora won the School of Applied Design award for her design of a tuberculosis hospital."

"Indeed?" said the architect with a lift of his thin eyebrows.

Nora swallowed. "Yes. But on a much smaller scale. I'm still studying. And what I learned tonight was invaluable."

He smiled.

"It was on a smaller scale," Mrs.Harriman said, "but incorporated many of the same features as the new Sea View Hospital.

She'll be the next generation of forward-thinking architects."

Nora couldn't believe how flattering Mrs.Harriman was being. She had really seen what Nora had been attempting in her design;

most people didn't bother to look that closely.

Mrs.Harriman turned to Higgie. "And are you studying architecture, too?"

"No, I'm the bookkeeper for McKim, Mead, and White. That's where Nora and I met."

"Did I hear someone mention bookkeeper?"

It was Dr.Jamison, who turned from the person he'd been talking to and flashed a smile at Mrs.Harriman and then at Higgie.

Higgie blushed. "Yes, a simple job, but a necessary one."

"Indeed," said the doctor, whose smile created a dimple in one cheek.

"It's a difficult job," Nora broke in. "She organizes timesheets and salaries for over fifty architects and draftsmen. And

keeps the office organized and efficient."

Higgie just stood there, blushing. Nora had never seen Higgie blush.

Dr. Jamison's smile broadened and another dimple appeared on the opposite cheek.

"That is an excellent report," he said. "I for one believe that it is the bookkeepers and secretaries of the world who make

the difference in how a business is run. Invaluable, especially to the medical profession."

"My father was a research librarian at Columbia College," Higgie said. It was the first time she'd ever mentioned her father.

And Nora couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't encouraged her to go to college rather than secretarial school. "I was in

charge of keeping his notes in order. It was good training."

"And are you interested in medicine?"

Nora left them to it, and returned her attention to Mr.Almirall, who was explaining how the sanitarium would be accessed

and the problem of humidity.

Mrs.Harriman excused herself to speak to some other attendees.

It was several minutes before the architect gave his excuses of a later engagement and left.

Nora turned back to find Higgie still in conversation with Dr.Jamison. Just the two of them. Feeling guilty about having

left her friend to fend for herself, Nora hurried over.

"Sorry, I was listening to Mr.Almirall. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, of course," Higgie said, almost sounding like her normal self, though her color was still flushed.

"It's been a pleasure, MissHiggins," Dr.Jamison said. "And if you ever decide to leave your post and would consider organizing

the medical world, please let me know." And in a rapid sleight of hand, he extracted a card from his jacket pocket and handed

it to Higgie.

Higgie frowned at it for a moment, then took it. "It was nice meeting you."

She turned away and she and Nora started across the room.

Suddenly Dr. Jamison reappeared at their side. "Perhaps I could call on you one day to discuss this further."

Higgie blinked, then managed, "That would be... fine," and she hustled Nora toward the door.

"Good heavens," Nora said when they were on the street and waiting for the trolley. "I had no idea you were interested in

medicine."

Higgie sighed. "Neither did I." The trolley came and there was no more talk of doctors or architects that night.

By morning, Nora's brain was reeling with ways to improve her design. She wouldn't try to make it larger. She wasn't convinced

that huge facilities were the answer to everyone's needs. But Mr.Almirall had made accommodations for a roof garden, possibly

high enough for cleaner, less humid air.

Nora began to think about air filtration. Something she knew nothing about. But she bet George or Mr.Wojcik would.

She went to her office early and took her hospital plan down from the wall, carefully rolling it into a cardboard tube, and

carried it up the avenue to the clubhouse site.

"Nora!" George said, striding quickly to the door to greet her. At least she hoped it was a greeting. He seemed agitated.

"Is this an inconvenient time?"

"Not at all. I was wondering where you've been; we haven't seen you on the site recently."

"I've been here, but not when you've been here."

"I've been spending a lot of time over at the Madison Square site."

"How is it going?"

"Nothing new, just a question of keeping everything on schedule. What have you been doing?"

"Accepting deliveries, cataloguing them, and sending them to the warehouse."

"We're a dull pair."

Nora noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Doing double duty for Mr.White while Mr.White was on a buying trip. She'd

never realized what a large amount of time decorating interiors demanded. Or the number of trips to Europe it would entail.

Of course, all these were rich clients who only wanted the best. She bet Mr.Almirall never scoured Europe for the best bedpans

and wheelchairs. Or perhaps he did. She was trying to learn not to show her own lack of experience.

She realized that George was just watching her, a question on his face. And she'd been daydreaming. "Actually, I came for

some advice, but if you're too busy..."

"Depends on what it is. Any more mantels that are too large for the space?"

"One, but I intercepted it and sent it as a gift to Mr.White for the Payne Whitney mansion."

"Playing fast and loose with the club's money?"

"Of course not—Mrs.Whitney happened to see it when it came in and decided she wanted it. I just made a note of it. She and

MissMorgan took care of the sale. MissMorgan's the club treasurer..."

George flicked her cheek. "I was teasing you."

"Oh."

"So what can I do for you?"

"I'm not sure, but Mrs.Harriman gave me tickets to a talk last night where this architect, Mr.Almirall, talked about building

a new sanitarium."

"Sea View. I read about it in the paper."

"Oh. Well, I didn't think the location was ideal. I mean, it's lots of land so that is good, but the air is not the best,

so I was wondering about air filtration. I mean, I know about charcoal masks for individuals, but is there a way to filter entire ventilation systems? I mean..." She paused to extract her hospital plan and unrolled it on a nearby workbench. "Could a charcoal ‘mask' be placed over the entrance ducts to a building and have it vented to all the rooms? If you could do that for an entire building, you could have sanitariums right here in New York City."

George pulled a mechanical pencil from his shirt pocket and pointed to the design. "The easy answer is I don't know. I suppose

you could take one of the new Carrier systems..."

They worked for a good half hour, heads together, and Nora thought about how she missed collaborating. She'd always dreamed

of a place of her own, but with Elsie out of town, and having the new office all to herself, she missed the camaraderie of

other architects and the secretaries, and... George to consult with.

He looked up. "What are you smiling at?"

Nora shrugged. "Just happy, I guess."

He laughed. "Me too. Somehow, things are just not the same without you poking around and asking questions."

"You're the one who said I should poke around and ask questions."

"Did I? Sometimes my brilliance surprises even me."

"I don't understand. Am I being annoying?"

"Not at all. You always have a unique perception of everything. Things seem a little monochromatic when you're not around."

Monochromatic? Did that mean he liked her a little?