“Waiting for a civil judge to make time for your marriage could possibly take hours; directly across the street you will find two government sanctioned chapels that could probably give you and your woman immediate, and much more romantic attention then in a judges chamber.”
164
Chapter Fifteen
Revered Vivian Carter
New York, N.Y.
8:41 AM
Fortunately, braving the rain, Bertha’s guests were possibly at breakfast in the diner up the street leaving but one non-attentive elderly woman dozing in the living-room.
Thinking, So far, so good. Speaking softly. “Where’s your trunk?”
The rush to get to this Loveland place in order to finalize the purchase or his… of ‘their’ new business and to legally marry with her one relative in attendance… This Agnes could understand, though she would like more time to, maybe, plan a wedding dinner for widow Baily, her aunt and whomever guests were in attendance at the time.
What she could not understand and was bewildered by Morris’ apparent secrecy and reluctance— she had noticed— to greet his fellow shipmates or even to be seen by them.
“Never needed a trunk.” Spoken in a normal tone. “I’ve my two suitcases in my closet.”
Outside of Agnes’ bedroom. Suppressing the urge to ask her to speak softly.“Think they’re large enough to hold what you’ve got to take?”
“Never needed much, never purchased much.” Opening the door both stepping into her bedroom. “Things I came with, when I was a girl, I gave to charity and just bought what I needed for my job, you know, blouses, dresses and jackets, all my at work things….” undergarments coming to mind, that she did not mention, especially this modern, new brassiere that had been invented by New York socialite Mary Phelps Jacob just two years earlier “...and whatever would be comfortable to wear when I’m here…” making a fluttering motion with both hands “...a few things I’d wash whenever they’d soil.”
“What you wore last night…” Morris said in a normal, though admiring tone tone “...that was ‘very’ pretty!”
“My one, ‘go out to dinner’ dress, if anyone should ask me.” Agnes’ tone’ dropping. “The first time I wore it”— thinking: along with that new brassiere thing— “was last night, so…” said sadly “...these two cases will hold everything I’ve got to take.”
“Well...” taking her face between his hands, kissing her forehead “...you looked beautiful!”
“Just remembered, so anxious to go to the bank and get it over with, forgot all about eating. You hungry?”
Actually, ‘yes’! But— becoming more and more paranoid because ‘everything’ had been going exactly as planned, he did not want to chance running into any of Bertha’s borders— “No...” Morris said “...I’m not hungry, thank you! And want to get packing also.” Although, other than his change of clothing yesterday and today, and the dress suit he’d worn to dinner yesterday evening, nothing had been unpacked from the large suitcase which contained only what he’d thought he would need for appearance sake on the ship.
“So I can tell Bertha. What time do we want to leave for City Hall?”
Removing his watch from the watch pocket, popping the lid open. “ ‘nine-0-five’’ now, and once we get there we may have to wait until some judge is free, so I’d say about ten-thirty, and that should give both of us time enough to pack. Okay with you?”
“Yes. Sure. And we’ll come back for our things, and bring my aunt back then?”
An idea forming, and so long as everyone, with the exception of the snoozing old woman in the living-room is—he assumes— still out. “I’d like to use that telephone in the kitchen. It’s alright with your aunt?”
“Yes. Of course. It’s meant for the guest’s.”
Thinking it better if Agnes hears his intended conversation rather then attempting to relay it. “Come on along with me… You happen to have any
telephone change?”
“No. Think I’ll see if I can help in the kitchen.” Reaching into her pocketbook, Agnes handed Morris a dime, two nickles and a quarter. “Enough?”
“Plenty…” returning the quarter “...just calling Grand Central.”
“Why?”
“Actually the train terminal, want to see if there’s anyplace there we leave the luggage until we’re able to board the train.”
“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll check with my aunt to see when she’d like to leave and it it’s early enough, you know, if we have to make an appointment with a judge…”
“I thought she wasn’t going to serve dinner today?”
“She wasn’t, but then got to thinking… She told me she’s going to have a hard time saying ‘goodbye’ and thinks it will be easier if she’s busy, and has already spoken to Mrs Baily about helping on a constant basis, and the old lady said she’d ‘love to’.”
9:03 AM
The telephone installed onto the far wall in the living-room. The snoozing lady no longer snoozing, or even in the no longer occupied room.
Breathing a sigh of relief, as picking the receiver off the cradle. “Operator, connect me, please with Grand Central, will you… Yes, the train terminal.” he said as dropping nickle into the slot.
“Good morning. ‘Ticket Master’.”
“Good morning. I’ve a reservation for two in a private compartment on a train leaving this evening, and wondered if you’ve a secured place my, uh, wife and I might be able to leave our luggage until we board?”
The Train Master attuned to nuances in the reflection of the tones i peoples voices, and the need for the privacy of an expensive private compartment. “Heading to the Falls, are you?” the man asked.
“The Falls?” Morris questioned.
“Yes, ‘Niagara Falls’.”
Throwing a bit more confusion in, if ever the investigation should reach this point. “Yes. We’re being married this morning.”
“Congratulations to you and your new misses! Yes, of course ‘ Union Atlantic and Pacific Railway’ will be more than happy to accommodate you.”
“Thank you… For everything.”
“You’ll be coming to the terminal here by cab, I assume?”
“Yes. Probably sometime this morning.”
“Well when you arrive have the cabbie locate a ‘Red Cap’ and you just give him, the ‘Red Cap’, your yellow tickets and he’ll make sure your bags will be in your compartment when you and your new lady arrive.”
“That is perfect, thank you!”
“Our pleasure, sir.”
Replacing the receiver onto the cradle, a thought coming to him. Holding the receiver off, jiggling the cradle, summing the operator. “Yes, operator, Manhattan City Hall, please.” Morris said, depositing the second nickle.
“City Hall” A male voice stated.
Hearing sounds coming from the outside hall door. Toning his voice down and turning his back as two couples returned.. “I’d like to know your marriage procedure, please.”
“In what sense, sir?”
“The presiding judge; must am appointment be made?”
“Yes. Always. Otherwise you… We are speaking of you and your lady, are we not?” “We are!. For today, please.”
One couple going directly to their room, the second couple, coming into the
living-room sat in two facing easy-chairs, close enough to accidentally hear remnants of Morris’ conversation.
“Might I make a suggestion, sir?”
The rain stopping, sunlight streaming through the window causing Morris to squint, but if he turned from the invading sun he would be facing the two men.
Closing his eyes. “Yes…” the red glare seeping in “of course.”
“Waiting for a civil judge to make time for your marriage could possibly take hours; directly across the street you will find two government sanctioned chapels that could probably give you and your woman immediate, and much more romantic attention then in a judges chamber.”
“What about the paperwork? We’ll have a form of some sort to fill out?”
“Like I said, they’re government sanctioned, so they’ll be able to take care of whatever legalities your marriage will call for.”
“That sounds wonderful. That’s what we’ll do then. Thank you!”
Placing the receiver onto the cradle, turning from the telephone and returning the nod of one of the two people sitting in mild conversation… 9:24 AM
… thinking, What a wonderfully accommodating country this America is, Morris went directly into the kitchen. 9:25
Agnes at the table peeling potatoes Bertha at the table kneading dough.
Sitting alongside Agnes. “You haven’t eaten today, how’s about some eggs?”she asked.
“Yes, please.” Standing, going to the stove, pouring a mug of coffee. “We’ve everything figured for today, and can go whenever you’d like Bertha.”
“Have to finish preparing for this evenings meal.” Looking at the wall clock. “Want to change…” running a flowery hand over her temple leaving powdery streak “...and pretty up a bit — ‘Eleven, eleven-thirty-thirty’, would be fine with me.”
Cracking one egg over a sizzling skillet.. “We don’t have to make an appointment for a judge?” … then a second egg along with four slices of bacon left from this mornings breakfast for the two men.
“Yes, we’d have to make an appointment for a judge except there were no openings for today so....” sipping coffee, taking his time before answering. “ ...we’re going to be married in a government assigned chapel by an authored Justice of the Peace and it’ll be much prettier there than in a judges chamber.”
Bringing the eggs, four left over slices of bacon and one slice of toast. “Who says?”
“The man in City Hall.”
11:42 AM
Able to flag one of the newer style Taxi Cabs, all three suitcases along with Morris’ ‘carry-on bag’ easily fitting into the trunk of this yellow and black painted vehicle.
If ever questioned, though doubtful, this driver might possibly remember where he’d taken Morris along with the two women.
Wanting to sever yet another link to his trail by changing cabs in front of the many entrances to the Grand Central train terminal without Agnes wondering why they had to change cabs. “Either of you ladies ever been inside Grand Central?”
“No.” Both Agnes and Bertha said.
“Well, you’re about to see one of the wonders of our modern new world..”Morris said “...You’ll be amazed!”
Grand Central Terminal
The women waiting alongside while the cabbie unloaded onto the curb as, motioning to a black man in a grey uniform Morris draw the attention of a ‘Red Cap’.
Taking a moment to settle with the cab driver, while not wanting to appear noticeably ostentatious or cheap, Morris paid the thirty-five cent fare along with a fifteen cent tip as the Red Cap loaded their suitcases onto a cart.
The tip five cents above the usual for a trip short as this, tipping his cap, “Thank you!” the cabbie said as, stepping inside, the taxi pulled from the curb.
Removing the two stapled strips of tickets from his jacket pocket. “We’ve a reserved sleeping quarter…” Morris told the Red Cap “....for tonight.”
“Yes, Sir.” Pulling the top yellow tickets from both strips. “By the time you board, I’ll have these…” jiggling the cart “...waiting for you.”
“Thank you.” Morris said as, removing a quarter and a nickle — also five cents more than the man would normally receive — handed the change to the Red Cap, then followed him a number of steps into the…
This the third time he’d entered the grand, marbleised edifice of ‘Grand Central Station’, and now as twice before the totality of the expanse and beauty caused a catch in his chest. Taking Agnes’ hand. Simply asked, “So?”
“Morris…” never seeing, or even imagining the beauty of this man made structure “...how beautiful!”
Bertha turning in a tight circle, muttering.. “My, God...” never using her Lord’s name in vain “...I’ve ‘never’ seen such a thing!” 12:31 PM
Thinking ahead. Step by step, planning to place as many kinks as possible into the links of whatever investigation Morris felt would be forthcoming having this latest taxi driver park directly in front of City Hall rather than before the chapel on the far side of the street.
Out of change by this time, handing the cabbie a dollar bill, Morris asked for sixty cents in return, giving the man a fifteen cent tip.
Looking completely out of place on this busy, commercial avenue, the
small, white clapboard structure with the white picket fence actually did give the appearance of a countryside chapel.
The five automobiles on this busy street stopping to give leeway to the three people crossing to the other side of the street.
12:34 PM
Opening the door— standing to the side allowing first entry to Bertha and Agnes to the tinkling, music box notes of ‘Here come the bride’.
The twelve by twelve room painted a pale pink. Dividing the room in two, the drawn side to side curtain, in contrast a startling milk white. At a ceramic white desk there sat a white haired, chubby, happy faced woman wearing a white clerics neckband shirt.
“Good afternoon…” the woman said, standing, reaching her hand across the desk “...I’m Revered Vivian Carter.”
“You’re a woman!”
“I am…” she said “...would you rather I call my husband?’”
Before Morris could respond…
“No, of course not!” Agnes said. “My aunt and I, we’re suffragettes and Morris…” emphatically jabbing her thumb onto his chest “...welcome the opportunity to be married by a woman!”
Rubbing his chest. “You do have the authority to do this, though?”
“I am an ordained Presbyterian Minister and legally sanctioned by the state and city of New York.”
“Like my niece said…” giving Morris a withering glance “... her and me, we’re in the ‘movement’ to help make a change on a number of issues, including, and maybe ‘especially’ the right to be married by an officially ordained ‘woman’ of God.”
Coming from behind the desk. “Thank you!” The woman said. “I truly appreciate that.” Asking, “What denomination?”
Before Agnes, Bertha or Morris — who noncommittally shrugged his
shoulders — could respond. “I’m officially non- denomination you know, but thought if you are Presbyterian, Protestant or Methodist…” giggling “...or even Jewish, I could fudge a little on this New York State marriage…” lifting a sheet pf paper from the desk and fluttering it distastefully “...contract.”
“If anything…” Bertha said “...we’re Amish.”
Returning to her side of the desk. “Couldn’t help you there, but need you to fill this out.” Revered Vivian Carter said, handing a mimeographed sheet of paper to Morris while motioning to a cup of pencils.
Oh what a tangled web we weave…
Truth time now.
Occasionally occurrences happen that cannot be avoided — ‘Morris Pinowskiz, AKA Solomon Berkowitz, AKA Morris Pink’? — If he did not feel what he sensed to be love for this lady? If Agnes did not know his true name would he not put this huge kink into his lengthening web of deceit?
Sighing, taking a pencil from the cup: ‘Morris W. Pinowskiz’, he wrote.
At 1:06 PM…
On Wednesday, May 5, 1915…
Officiated by Revered Vivian Carter. Witnessed by Miss Bertha Longstead, Mister Morris Pinowskiz and Miss Agnes Longstead became…
“By the power vested me by the State of New York…” Revered Vivian Carter said “...I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The One Week Writing Workshop shows you how to write a book step by step through a series of motivating writing activities. Working with your own creative ideas, you’ll learn a 7-step novel writing method to use now and on your future novel projects.
The One Week Writing Workshop shows you how to write a book step by step through a series of motivating writing activities. Working with your own creative ideas, you’ll learn a 7-step novel writing method to use now and on your future novel projects.
