Chapter 4

April1904

As the end of term and the architecture competition neared, Nora took to staying late at school, not in the library as she

usually did, but in one of the classrooms that had been left open for those working toward competition entries. There were

only four of them who had taken advantage of the offer. Most of the girls preferred to work at home, away from curious eyes.

Nora had given up trying to do any work in her room. She needed space for her rendering, which she would complete in watercolor.

She was a decent colorist, but attempting detailed work when you were surrounded by drying underclothes and giggling roommates

was nigh impossible.

So here she was, wishing she had packed a sandwich and frowning at the sketch before her. It seemed like every time she found

a solution to one problem, another one sprang up to replace it. She knew the scheme of her building was sound. Her rendering

of the facade was forward-thinking, tempered by a sense of tranquility and caring.

But architecture was more than a pretty facade. Every aspect, area-to-ceiling-height ratio, width of halls and traffic flow,

heating and ventilation, kitchen-to-dining-room distance, accessibility... The devil was in the details. All aspects had

to fit like a jigsaw puzzle to reveal the building of the future—hopefully, the near future.

Nora had no illusions about the difficult road that lay ahead. She had gotten a taste of it at the night classes she'd taken down at Cooper Union to augment her mechanical drawing and engineering skills, something she hadn't shared with her family. Even though the classes themselves were free, Louise would never understand the need for extra schooling, even if Nora explained the advancement and knowledge these courses would bring her and the additional pay she could earn. To Louise, it would be just one more thing that Nora had that the rest of them didn't.

Nora didn't understand Louise's bitterness. She had always wanted a family, babies, a nice apartment. She was on her way to

achieving that. She'd never even wanted to go to school. Ever. And she still wasn't happy. Maybe it was having to house Mama

and Rina. If she was in her place, Nora would like to think she would be happy to keep them safe. But then Nora had never

longed for "a family of her own"; she already had all the family she ever wanted, and if Papa and Jimmy had lived, she would

be staying with them still.

She shook herself to banish her morbid thoughts. One should only think positive thoughts when doing what one loved.

Moving her work to the school had been a good thing. She was already too often annoyed at her roommates' noise and giddiness.

She didn't resent them. She was glad they were enjoying their lives. She just wished they'd do it a little less loudly and

with a lot more neatness. A little annoyance was acceptable, but a lot of annoyance she was afraid led to bitterness. And

that was a place she refused to go.

"Don't worry, Jimmy," she whispered to the drawing before her. "I will build you the most glorious hospital. And then a school

for children like we dreamed of. And apartments where the windows shine with sunlight. Just wait and see—"

"Nora! You're mumbling to yourself again."

Nora looked up from her drawing board. "Sorry."

"Oh, I don't mind." Doris Lasky wiggled her mechanical pen cil at Nora. "Just wondered if you were having trouble with your drawing."

"Just the usual." Nora couldn't very well confess to talking to ghosts.

They smiled across the room at each other and went back to their work. The other two girls in the room didn't even look up.

Nora pressed her hands to her back and stretched. She was stiff everywhere; even her fingers were tired. That was enough for

today. Diagramming the air ducts and vents could wait until tomorrow when her mind was fresh and focused.

She began packing up her things, carefully covering her work with a muslin sheet, lest one of the other girls was inclined

to peek. Silly, really. It wasn't like they would steal each other's ideas. They all had submitted their preliminary plans

for acceptance into the competition. She knew that Doris was submitting a cottage design; hers was among several house plans

of various sizes and complexities. Verity Klimpt was designing some kind of memorial; there was at least one school, a bank,

and several office buildings.

As far as Nora knew, hers was the only hospital.

They were told before submission that they wouldn't be judged against each other, but on how successfully they completed their

vision. They all listened and nodded as that announcement was made. Not one of them believed it, except maybe Doris, dear

thing. You got ahead in life by being better than the others in your field. It was just how the world worked. And if you were

female...

At the School of Applied Design for Women, they worked in a somewhat rarefied atmosphere. Of course there were jealousies and a bit of backstabbing, but nothing compared—Nora knew—to what they'd face when they tried to enter a profession dominated by men. She'd had a taste of it already at Cooper Union. The hard looks, the snide comments in the name of fun, the dismissive sighs when she ventured to ask a question of the professor.

It hadn't been easy to keep her temper and just concentrate on learning everything. The courses had expanded her knowledge

of drawing immensely and given her a little taste of what she would face in the future. It would be tough, but she would be

tougher. She was determined to succeed. For so long, she'd been impatient to make a start when it seemed like she'd never

get there.

And then suddenly, her chance was here.

Daisy slipped her arms into the spring coat Bordie was holding out for her. His hat and gloves were on the foyer table and

he was trying to look patient.

"I hope I haven't made us late. I don't want to miss the awards presentation, but there's so much to do before we leave for

London."

"Please don't say you're going to try to hold a groundbreaking ceremony before the ship sails."

Daisy laughed. "Heavens, no. We thought about it, but we had a ribbon-cutting ceremony when we bought the property, and look

how long it's taken us to get a plan. I think we all were a little superstitious about celebrating too early again."

"Understandable." Bordie took his hat and gloves and offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"

The ride across town to the School of Applied Design for Women was made in companionable silence, or so Daisy thought until

Bordie asked, "Why are you so pensive tonight?"

"Am I?"

"If you're worried about being in Europe while White comes up with the designs, don't be. He does know his way around buildings."

"It's not Stanford that I'm worried about, not exactly. It's the ladies—they never can agree on anything, except that we should have a club."

Bordie laughed. "Fortunately for both you and White, they'll all be out of town, too. Now tell me again, this is an architecture

award?"

"Yes, you missed the wallpaper exhibit last month when you were in Boston. There are two cash prizes and several special mentions.

All will be an aid in acquiring a professional position. One day women architects—"

"Yes, I know, dear, but let's just concentrate on the architect you've got for now."

"I don't envy any woman trying to break into architecture, or doing anything unusual for that matter. Today the Post printed that our club women"—Daisy's eyes rolled upward, a combination of disgust and trying to remember the exact words—"‘lacking

in their scholarly equipment still feel they must dabble in affairs of politics and business when they would do better to

keep an eye on the monthly household expenses.' How dare they?"

"You shouldn't be wasting your time reading that yellow press."

"I didn't, but Alva did. She was incensed."

"Alva is always incensed over something."

"True, and I do think the article might have taken a swipe at women's suffrage."

"Ah, that explains it." Bordie sighed. "Who's giving the speeches tonight?"

"I'm sure whoever it is will be brief. Everyone in attendance is on their way to dinner or the theater. And yes, it will be

crowded and overheated, but as patrons, it's our duty to attend, not to mention an honor to be invited."

"Yes, dear," he said, clearly resigned to a couple hours of boredom. Bordie was a numbers man through and through. Rational was his middle name. He appreciated art and a good dinner. He was a philanthropist as long as it didn't require too many

personal appearances.

As contributors to the school, they were among the invited guests for their year-end competition for best architectural designs.

Daisy was proud to be a supporter of the school. Mrs.Hopkins's original idea for a design school had blossomed into a well-established

three-year program with almost four hundred female students.

"Tonight's competition, besides the monetary prizes, will hopefully launch several young women into a career in building."

"Yes, dear," he repeated docilely.

"Do not twinkle those eyes at me, Bordie. I'm quite serious. And besides, aren't you interested in what the young women have

designed?"

"Actually, I am."

A few minutes later, they arrived at the school.

"I think it's so wonderful that they have an architecture program here," Daisy said as they rode the elevator up to the exhibition

room. "There are only a handful of programs for women in colleges and most of them are unaffordable. But that will change.

It would have been wonderful to have a female design the club, but there aren't many to choose from." She glanced at her husband.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Just wondering if the world will ever catch up with you."

The elevator let them off outside the exhibition hall, where they deposited coats and hats and entered a large room where,

in addition to the architectural entries, designs of wallpaper, carpets, book covers, and more were also displayed.

Daisy stopped just inside the door and peered into the crowd. Most of the guests were, like Daisy and Bordie, dressed for

whatever event they would attend after the awards had been presented.

Daisy spotted Bessie conversing with Anne Morgan and steered Bordie toward them.

"I told you I'd bag him for you," Bessie said good-naturedly as Daisy reached them.

Daisy glanced around, hoping no one had overheard. No matter how much she was around Bessie, she never quite got used to her

blunt manner.

"Is he here tonight?"

"Just arrived a few minutes ago. He's over there, talking to Professor Gerhardt, the head of the department. Though I think

the professor was more interested in meeting Elsie than talking about the state of architecture."

Elsie was indeed holding court with several men. Dressed in shimmering peacock blue and silver, she was like a wisp among

the more staid matrons in the room.

"I'm surprised she could make it," Daisy said. "Doesn't she have a performance tonight?"

"Oh, she's gotten very adept at whisking in at hour call. She was never one to sit at home and ‘rest' before a show. I expect

they'll make their way over to us before long. Anne and I just arrived ourselves and we were about to take a closer look at

the entries. I have no doubt there will be some real talent on display this evening."

Bordie nodded to the ladies and slipped off to join several of the other husbands by the punch bowl, which he would soon learn

was not spiked with anything but perhaps soda water.

Daisy, Bessie, and Anne made their way through the crowd to look at the exhibits. Bessie had been right. There was real talent

here.

The first few were designs for domiciles: two cottages, a brownstone, and a manse of classic proportions. They admired a school

and two landscaped parks before stopping at a watercolor depiction of a hospital.

"Impressive," said Bessie.

"Unusual," Anne added.

More than impressive , thought Daisy. It was not just a hospital, but a sanctuary and retreat for tuberculosis patients. That was a subject she'd

been aware of for quite some time. She'd studied the dire situations of TB patients and the lack of adequate facilities for

treatment. Most sanitariums were little more than a waiting room for... But this. With its precise pen-and-ink lines and

the watercolor wash of greenery, none of which was tall enough to block out the sun, it radiated good health. And hope.

They passed on to a modern steel-and-concrete high-rise, more houses, a train station, another school, and a memorial statue.

All were more than adequately portrayed. But Daisy wondered just how many of them would actually continue with the profession

once they had graduated from school.

They paused by the row of young women, looking very much like schoolgirls, nervous and uncomfortable.

"Excellent job, ladies," Bessie said to the group in general.

Anne nodded. "Very nice."

"Which one of you is the designer of the hospital?" Daisy asked.

One of the girls nudged the one next to her forward. "I-I am."

"I very much like your idea of all the rooms accessing natural light. I'm glad you recognized the necessity of fresh air and

ventilation to the sufferer. I hope you continue in your studies. It's something we must address if we're going to cure this

dreadful disease."

The girl, small and dark, just stared at her. She would have to get over that shyness if she was going to survive among all

those aggressive male architects.

"What is your name?" Daisy continued.

"Nora, Nora Bromley."

"Well, Miss Bromley, I look forward to seeing your building grace the city one day." Daisy turned to the others. "You all have done yourselves and your school proud. We wish you the best of luck."

They would need more than luck, Daisy thought as she, Bessie, and Anne rejoined the crowd. She wasn't under any illusions

about the chances of most of them becoming actual architects. Some would accept jobs as either draftsmen or tracers; one or

two might marry a fellow architect and work in his shadow for the rest of her career until too many children called her away

from even that. The others would return home and resume their normal lives as if they hadn't learned a new craft at all.

"Ah," Bessie said. "Here's Stanny making his way toward us."

Stanford White. Tall, charming, with eye-catching red hair and a mustache, Stanny, as his intimate friends called him, was

a dashing man about town. He also had a reputation that had never been fully explained to Daisy. She only knew Bordie, though

an admirer of his talent, didn't care overmuch for his company. The reasons why, when Daisy pushed him, were vague.

No matter. The rest of society admired and respected him. He was responsible for the most spectacular mansions in Manhattan,

Newport, Long Island. He'd designed Madison Square Garden, the Washington Square Arch, and, with his associates, McKim and

Mead, won the Pennsylvania Station contract. Churches, office buildings, and almost every important club in the city bore

his name. The Players club, the Union Club, the Metropolitan Club, the Harmonie Club, the Century Association. And now, the

Colony Club.

It was actually happening.

"So delightful to see you," Daisy said.

"The delight is all mine." Stanford bowed slightly as he took her hand in his, not quite a handshake, not close enough to kiss. Still, it sent a slight shiver up Daisy's spine. The man certainly did have charisma. But Daisy didn't much care about that. What she cared about was getting construction started in a timely fashion.

"We await your designs with great anticipation."

He smiled, another slight nod. "And they will be waiting for you when you return from Newport at the end of summer."

"I realize we did take rather a long time to decide exactly what our needs were," Daisy admitted.

"It's a lady's prerogative to change her mind," he answered with his usual charm.

"And when there are forty of us..."

He laughed. "Indeed."

"Have you taken a look at the exhibit tonight?" Bessie asked, deftly changing the conversation. "Lots of talent."

"Yes, I've noticed," Stanford said, casting his gaze briefly in the direction of the display wall. "Too bad they're all women.

I've got so many projects going on that I could use an extra draftsman or two. They're dropping like flies. No stamina, this

last lot."

"And do you not think any of these women would be adequate to do the job?" Anne asked quietly.

Bessie blinked; Daisy cut a glance toward the usually timid Anne. For such a robust, energetic young woman, she was extremely

shy, and that she would question Stanford White was surprising.

Stanford chuckled. "You won't catch me out there, MissMorgan. I think that most of these women are capable of acceptable

drafting. One or two are outstanding. It's their penchant for getting married and quitting that holds most firms back from

hiring them."

"Ha," Bessie scoffed. "Quitting even faster than the male draftsmen who realize it's hard work for little pay and move on

to more lucrative professions? You were just complaining about not being able to keep them."

"Touché, my dear Bessie. Even so, my partners are dead set against hiring women. Charles Mead would have a fit to even see one in the drafting room." Stanford glanced again at the exhibition wall. "Though I must say, there are one or two, if they were men..."

"If who were men?" asked Elsie, gliding up to the group.

"These girl architects," Bessie said.

"From what I've seen of them," Elsie said, "any of them could could do very well against their male counterparts."

"And I, of course, bow to your succinct insight," Stanford said gravely.

"Well, it's true," Elsie said playfully.

If she'd had a fan, she would have rapped his knuckles with it , Daisy thought. Sometimes it was hard to tell when Elsie was acting and when she wasn't. It might have turned into a clever

badinage if they hadn't been interrupted by the arrival of Bordie, who nodded to Stanford before saying the judges were going

to be examining the entries any minute if they wanted to get a good view.

"Excuse me, ladies, the headmaster, Professor Gerhardt, is beckoning." Stanford moved away.

The others hurried to find places near the front of the exhibit to await the judging.