Part 30

I received no answer from Tim to that letter and was surprised that I did not. On the date on which I mailed the letter to Tim I received a letter from Daisy Harding. I had written her quite at length about Elizabeth Ann’s school work, and how proud I was of the way in which she was progressing day by day under my mother’s excellent tutelage. Miss Harding sent the rest of Elizabeth Ann’s kindergarten money, and $15 had been added to the amount, which, she wrote, would be a little Christmas gift for Elizabeth Ann and me.

She wrote that she was going to Battle Creek, after which she would join her husband in the South. This letter too had an affectionate ending, “Lots of love ..., A. V. H. L.” There was nothing in the letter that seemed to require immediate response. However, I answered it on December 11th. I wrote of Tim Slade’s having been over again to New York and that I felt sure he was the genuine person I had up to this time judged him to be.

It was upon the occasion of a trip of Tim’s made in early January, about the twelfth, that he gave me the first money I had ever received from him, in amount $100. It was accepted by me in the strictest business sense. I sent him a promissory note for the amount, at his own suggestion, dating it January 14th, and promising to repay him in three months. I told him at the time that it did not look as though the Hardings were willing to do anything in a _substantial_ way to help me to keep Elizabeth Ann, but that I was still “hoping against hope.” I told him about Daisy Harding’s assurance that she would help me as soon as she realized anything on her Florida property. I explained to Tim that I was sure she didn’t have any cash or she would have helped me that winter even more than the $175 or so she had already sent. I frankly expressed my resentment at the attitude the Votaws had assumed, but Tim said it was no more than he had expected. He repeated what he had said long before, “They don’t want to part with their money.” But I could not believe that this was the reason they were keeping aloof, and insisted it must be because they did not believe my story. And that hurt me more than their unwillingness to help financially.

Tim Slade is not the type of man one would expect to be wordily sympathetic, but his apparent “hard-heartedness” was construed by me always as merely an unrelenting attitude toward the members of the Harding family who had received Mr. Harding’s generous legacies, and who guarded this money to the point of refusing to share it with their brother’s own child.

So when Tim came over to New York, very often he would say, “Well, I talked with Hoke Donithen,” (a lawyer from Marion who, Tim said, benefitted largely from the Harding administration) “and I put the fear of the Lord into _him_!” And despite my seriousness, Tim’s boyish enthusiasm and apparent sponsorship of my cause would make me smile. But in the case of Mr. Donithen, as in the case of Mr. Crissinger, Tim evidently failed, for nothing seemed to be developing from his efforts.

When I confided to him that I would need help now more than I had in the past, inasmuch as the loan upon which I had depended had failed me, he asked me if $100 a month extra would enable me to keep Elizabeth Ann and mother with me as I had planned to do. I assured him it would be a very great help and I thought would enable me to carry out my plans. However, though he promised to send me $100 each month, as a loan, he did not do so, and I have written Tim several times for help when I have not heard from him at all, not even an acknowledgement of my letters to him. But he had said to me, “Whenever you don’t hear from me, you’ll know I’m broke.”

_148_

On January 27th, 1926, I wrote Mr. Votaw. I was under a nervous strain which had superimposed other ailments, and was growing apprehensive of what the Votaws might do to take advantage of my situation so frankly and truthfully laid before them. It was all I could do to keep up my work at the Club, and at the end of the first semester at Barnard I had dropped the playwriting course I had started. It was too difficult for me to do my school work at night and my day work at the Club, and besides bear up under the constant worry about finances.

My letter follows:

“MY DEAR MR. VOTAW:

The telephone operator here tells me that a man came in this noon and asked for me. He answered your description, and I am therefore writing to ask if it were you. If so, and you wish to get in touch with me, will you be good enough to call me at Bryant 4246? The gentleman in question for some reason asked if I were in and then contrarily assured the telephone operator that he did not wish to disturb me. As I do not like that sort of thing occurring here at the Club, I thought I could at least let you know where I was in case it had been you who called me.

The address is as above and my home address is 609 West 114th Street. The home telephone number is Cathedral 5770. I think I gave you this information in my letter last fall.

Very truly yours, NAN BRITTON NEILSEN”

I sent Tim Slade a copy of this letter, relating the circumstances, and telling him how nervous every little thing made me.

After I had mailed this letter to Mr. Votaw, I went home and thought the whole matter over carefully that night in bed, and the following day I wrote _Mrs._ Votaw a brief note, telling her I felt that if anyone came to New York to talk with me it would more logically be she than Mr. Votaw. I apprised Tim Slade of what I had written, keeping him thus in touch with my own steps.

The following day I received an answer to my letter to Mr. Votaw. It reached me the same day it was dated, January 29th, and was as strictly formal as mine to him had been. Very briefly Mr. Votaw advised me that he had not called for me at The Town Hall Club on the date my letter was written, “_nor at any other time_.” The italicized words were heavily underscored on the typewriter by Mr. Votaw, who, I assumed, had himself typed the letter to me. He went on to say that he had not tried to reach me at my home either, and informed me that he had not been in New York City at all for more than two years.

That was all the letter contained. Never an allusion to the matter which I deemed of as great moment to the Hardings and Votaws as to myself as the mother of their brother’s and my child. In fact, the letter from Mr. Votaw to me was merely one of complete negation and indifference.

Simply to read this note from Mr. Votaw made me ill all over and brought on a state of high nervous tension which usually possessed me when I came face to face with some new obstacle in my fight for Elizabeth Ann’s rights. I have never, as a matter of fact, solved the puzzle of who the strange man was who called in such a mysterious manner and asked if a “Mrs. Nan Britton Neilsen worked there,” and then disclaimed a desire to see her. The telephone operator’s description fitted Mr. Votaw, or perhaps George Christian.

The possibility that I might be “shadowed” simply because I possessed a secret which many people would be interested in protecting from public dissemination, filled me with a new fear--a fear hitherto unfelt: that of possible desire to destroy me and thus destroy my secret. I was the only living person who knew the intimate details of our love-story, Warren Harding’s and mine. And if such a thing should happen to me, my baby girl would lose her birthright, except as she would be told of it by my sister, who really knew pitifully little of the details. The mere thought of such a happening struck terror to my heart amounting to partial dementia at times when fatigue and despondency clutched at me, and I was becoming weaker and weaker physically as a result of my nightmarish thoughts. I _must_ be strong. I _must_ fight for Elizabeth Ann’s sake! I _must_ shake off this state of weakness which was dragging me down and down, and down.

_149_

Perhaps it was this crazed state of mentality which led me to construe Mr. Votaw’s letter, with its heavy underscoring, as a direct contumelious insinuation toward Elizabeth Ann and my claims for her, and perhaps it was what I thought might be my last desperate effort in her behalf which led me to write with the spirit which dominates the following letter:

MY DEAR MR. VOTAW:

Thank you for your prompt reply.

It _was_ difficult for me to believe that you would call and then for any reason be afraid to talk with me. But the idea of a call would be, in my estimation, a very excellent one. In fact, I cannot conceive of a brother’s or sister’s love taking the course yours and Mrs. Votaw’s has taken. I am frank to say that no matter what anyone might say about the lack of conventionality on my part or on that of Mr. Harding, they would never, never condone complete ignoring of responsibility to his own child. Nor do I mean that such shall be the case.

I was quite sincere when I wrote to you last fall that I should exhaust every effort to make you people--and that means all of the brothers and sisters of Mr. Harding--see your responsibility to Elizabeth Ann, and I mean to do so.

But I am and have been waiting for you to approach me, and I shall expect you to do so. I have been under a terrific financial strain and am about through trying to carry on alone. I need help and it should be provided. The very last time I talked with Mr. Harding in the White House he gave me every assurance that I should have ample financial assistance throughout Elizabeth Ann’s life, and, with his death, I am looking to his family to carry out his promises. And I do not mean to have her so ignored. It is highly inconceivable that you should adopt such attitude.

I shall expect to see one of you or both very soon, and I can assure you it would be gratifying to have the opportunity to tell you both things it would interest you to hear. If I do not hear from you to this effect, I shall proceed to go about in other ways to justify Elizabeth Ann’s claim to being cared for by her father’s people.

You know as well as I that I am asking nothing but a square deal for Elizabeth Ann and I shall certainly tolerate no conduct on your part which smacks of being ignored by you. If I cannot settle amicably a matter which should long ago have been settled without making it the basis for a life-long enmity and possible unpleasantness for all of us, then I shall be obliged in fairness to Mr. Harding’s child to fight for what is her due. And you cannot look me square in the eyes and deny that I am asking aught but justice.

I want to add that you are at perfect liberty to show this letter to whomever you like, knowing that I have nothing to conceal from any member of the Harding family. And I am ready to face the entire group at any time you say. I can offer to do no more.

Very sincerely, NAN BRITTON NEILSEN”

I must say that this letter conveyed a fighting spirit which my broken heart and body belied, but it was the spirit which has guided me in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles to seek the justice which is due Elizabeth Ann, and to justify my own claim to her as her mother. I wrote Tim Slade on January 30th, telling him of the contents of Mr. Votaw’s letter. Then I waited a few days for possible developments.

_150_

One evening I went home tired, soul and body. Elizabeth Ann met me as usual at the door. Simultaneously with my ringing the doorbell I could hear her voice, high-pitched in pleasurable excitement, “It’s Nan, muz!” she exclaimed to mother, and came rushing to open the door to greet me. Realizing keenly my dire financial status, daring not to divulge to my mother how frantic I was, knowing she would immediately have insisted upon taking some kind of position which would make it necessary for me to again ask my sister Elizabeth to come East and get the baby, I felt particularly unable to match my daughter’s playful mood. She wanted to recite a piece for me! Would I please sit down and listen?

Of course I would! I forced the gaiety I could not feel. It was all a familiar procedure, this reciting business, and I sank acquiescently into the nearest chair. Elizabeth Ann disappeared into the bedroom, and returned with a grown-up scarf around her shoulders to announce, as always, “Ladies, the princess will speak for you!” This, too, was familiar, for she had so self-styled herself very early, and somehow it seemed to me a most appropriate appellative considering the birth distinction that was hers.

“The princess will speak--which one shall I speak, muz?” she turned to inquire of my mother who was busy preparing dinner at the kitchenette, which occupied one side of the living-room. Mother whispered into her ear and Elizabeth Ann’s face lighted with the joy she could not conceal in being encouraged to surprise me with her newest dramatic acquisition.

The Harding smile was directed at me, the “audience”; the Harding eyes twinkled mischievously; the Harding bow was eloquently appealing; and the voice of the Harding child fell sweetly upon the ears of her mother:

“A _bear_--how_ev_er hard he _tries_, Grows _tub_by without exercise. _My_ teddy bear is _short_ and _fat_-- Which is not to be _won_dered at! He gets what exercise he _can_ From falling off the ottoman, But gen-er-al-ly seems to lack The energy to scramble _back_....”

The “piece” (by A. A. Milne) went on and on, and it was all the “audience” could do to keep from rising to its feet and embracing the speaker in her adorableness. But the “audience” was too well-trained. The princess, like the princess’s father before her, demanded strictest attention from an audience, and this audience knew that the princess’s kisses were given only upon completion of oratorical delivery.

Never did a queen more completely rule the hearts of her subjects than did this diminutive princess her “audience,” whose heart she had always possessed! Never did the father of this princess move his myriad listeners to greater tranquillity of heart! The princess restored her mother’s hopefulness and strength of purpose.

That night I prayed anew that her father’s people would help me to keep my darling. Would my prayer be answered?

_151_

Under date of February 5th, 1926, my rent falling due on the coming 10th, I wired Daisy Harding as follows:

“MRS. RALPH LEWIS, Vernon Heights Boulevard, Marion, Ohio.

SIMPLY MUST HAVE TWO HUNDRED BY SATURDAY SIXTH TO MEET OVERDUE BILLS. HAVE WRITTEN OTHER FOLKS TO NO AVAIL. IMPOSSIBLE CARRY ON PRESENT REGIME UNLESS MORE SUBSTANTIALLY ASSISTED. MUST HAVE HELP IMMEDIATELY. LETTER FOLLOWS.

NAN.”

The following letter was written that evening:

“DEAREST MISS HARDING:

I wired you this morning for $200 and hope to have the answer tomorrow by wire. If I do not hear, I shall simply have to take very definite steps to endeavor to establish Elizabeth Ann’s claim to some attention from the Hardings as to their responsibility toward her. And I am determined to do so.

Knowing how kindly you have been disposed to feel toward the whole situation, and loving you as much as I do, I cannot help believing you will do everything in your power to bring about the proper sense of responsibility on the part of every one of the Hardings. However, I have been treated so shabbily by the Votaws that I cannot afford longer to allow sentiment to influence me.

The present regime is impossible without more help and it seems to me I am looking to the right source for it. I want Elizabeth Ann with me--in the winter time at least--but I cannot have her and keep up the expenses of an apartment without outside help. She should have an income of her own independent of anyone else, even her mother. It is her due as Warren G. Harding’s child, and I am prepared to fight for it for her. I have lost a great deal of my pride in coming to you folks, and the Votaws’ attitude has shown me that they prefer unpleasantness to a very proper acknowledgement of their--and all the Hardings’--obligations.

Mind, it is not as though I were asking anything for my own self--I want only that which is due Elizabeth Ann--an income which will enable me to have her with me as much and as often as I want. If I were alone, I can assure every one of you that I could keep myself. But in having Elizabeth Ann with me, I must go into a great deal of extra expense. I pay $130 a month for a very simple, furnished apartment, in a nice neighborhood. I give my mother $25 a week to feed her and the baby. You have taken care of her kindergarten, and you have also sent me $65 for her winter clothes, receipts for the purchase of which clothing I have kept, and the amount is, I might say, in excess of the $65, inasmuch as she had no winter clothing when she came to me, with the exception of an old coat (which I bought her last winter) and a couple of dresses. She needs another pair of shoes and another dress at this very moment. She is as easy on clothes as any other child, which means that she is normally hard on them.

In addition to the above, I have my own clothes to buy and I have to pay my mother something. I will admit, when we started out last fall, I included in the $25 paid mother for food the small amount paid her as a tutor, but I found that she could not even buy her stockings on that, and it has had to be increased. And I need not tell you of all the other current expenses one incurs living in a New York apartment.

I give you the foregoing that you may know what I have been up against. Last fall I had assistance from a friend of mine, but that assistance is forthcoming no longer, for the reason that it involved a point of honor with me and I refused to take it after the first of the year. Therefore, I have been forced since then to go into debt in every direction to keep going at all. I have drawn ahead of my salary and I have borrowed. I do not feel under obligations to explain this, but am doing so that you may know how I have tried to carry on by myself before appealing again to the Hardings.

Two weeks or so ago I had a couple of telephone calls I could not account for--three, to be exact--because I was out when they came, or else when I _was_ in, the party would be gone when I answered the phone. Then last week a man came in, in person, and asked the telephone operator if I worked there. Upon receiving a reply in the affirmative, when she started to ring my telephone, he hastily and mysteriously assured her that he did not wish to disturb me at that moment and hurried out. Of course, I have been and am so busy here, with so many details on my mind, both of business and of my home, that I cannot have that sort of thing occurring. The operators description of him answered that of Mr. Votaw (or Mr. Christian), and I concluded it must have been he. Thereupon, I wrote to ask and received a reply which gave me a clue to Mr. Votaw’s attitude toward me. I have written them--addressing the letter to Mr. Votaw, because I think it is he and not Mrs. Votaw who is responsible for the Votaw attitude--and I have not heard from them.

Now, without wasting any more time in explanations, I want to say that I am not at all unconscious of the fact that any publicity in connection with this would reflect upon the character and reputation of Mr. Harding, notwithstanding the fact that I personally am not at all ashamed of a single step I have ever taken. Nevertheless, there are possibilities of its becoming an international scandal--and I am sure you will agree that we none of us want that. Nor do I mean that it shall be, except as it might creep out in my approaching Mr. Harding’s friends for assistance which should be forthcoming from his own family. But I am sure that some of the friends he had during his lifetime would treat his child with more consideration than some of his closest relatives have treated her. And I am not afraid to find out.

I have been patient, I have been decent, I have been fair--but it seems it doesn’t pay. It does not seem possible that Mr. Harding could have been the brother of anyone who could fail to see his viewpoint so impassionately. Bless him! I am afraid he would retract a good many of the things he has said to me if he could but see how things are going now! And maybe he does see. Sometimes I feel his presence very strongly--and I see his smile and hear his precious voice--and I am constrained to feel only charity for those who have shown anything but charity toward me.

But that is sentiment. And even he would dispense with sentiment if he had received such treatment as his child has--I very well remember his face when he told me the very last time I was in the White House that he would adopt Elizabeth Ann. I said, “Oh, but sweetheart, you couldn’t! What would people say?” And he answered, “That’s _my_ affair, and I promise you it will be done.” But that was when he felt Mrs. Harding would pass on--and she outlived him. Nevertheless, I was _always_, at all times, assured of ample financial assistance for Elizabeth Ann, and that is what I want now. And, like him, this is _my_ affair, and it must be dealt with by me for my child.

I am very tired tonight, having had a very strenuous day. It is eight o’clock right now and I have not eaten my dinner. It is difficult for me to write letters and escape observing eyes, over my shoulder here at my desk, etc., and therefore I stay after hours to write them.

Very likely you have received all of the invitations from the Club for their various entertainments and you may have some idea of what it means to hold a position such as this and have a constant terrific worry about where rent and food will come from. Miss Breed was away ill for three weeks the first part of the year, the busiest time the Club has ever known--and I was in charge. The Dinner of the 15th and the Supper-Dance of the 29th were both in my charge during her absence and the work involved was so heavy that upon her return I was forced to seek absolute quiet and rest. I went up to the Valeria Home, an endowed home for “tired people,” and I stayed there a week. Of course my expenses went on here just the same.

Now, in conclusion, I wish to say that I am ready to do everything in my power to see that E. A. is fairly treated. I appreciate more than I can tell you what you have done--and you know I am far from being one to impose unfairly upon the Hardings. But I do know that Mr. Harding died without having, to our knowledge thus far, left Elizabeth Ann cared for financially. I also know very definitely that none of the Hardings is any more entitled to a share of his consideration in this respect than she is, and I also know that it is in the possession of those to whom it was left. Therefore, I very respectfully, but very firmly, ask that you get together--once more--and combine your efforts and your funds into one whole, and that it be deposited in some bank so that Elizabeth Ann will have a substantial sum monthly from which her expenses may be met. I have some ideas about what would be fair in this respect and I shall expect them to be regarded by you. I am Elizabeth Ann’s legal guardian, also, and expect to be consulted as such. My legal guardianship is, in point of fact, the last word so far as directing her welfare, education, etc., is concerned, for it goes beyond any authority her foster parents have.

I would suggest that you and Dr. Tryon Harding, together with Mrs. Votaw, and, if possible, Mrs. Tryon Harding (who has children of her own), get together at once, and I shall be very glad to come West to consult with you if you so desire.