Part 31

Please know that I am appreciative of everything you have done and may do--and that I do deplore any but the friendliest feeling in this matter--but I shall not shirk my own responsibility toward Elizabeth Ann.

Love to you.

Most sincerely, NAN BRITTON”

Under the same date (February 5, 1926) I wrote Tim Slade and sent him a copy of the letter sent to Miss Harding. I have no notes to indicate that a copy went to the Votaws, and I do not think that I sent one to them, but I do think Miss Harding sent her original on to them.

_152_

That night I returned home late, having been at the Club writing the lengthy letter to Miss Harding, and I found a cheering answer from Miss Harding to my wire to her sent that morning early. She had been away from home for two weeks and my message had reached her the very hour of her return home. She would fulfill my request on Saturday! The following day I received another telegram from Miss Harding in which she stated that the money had been wired to the wrong address. Would I call the Postal Telegraph and trace the money? It was with a sense of relief I had not known for some time that I had the money traced by the telegraph office, and you may imagine my joy to find she had doubled the amount asked for by me. She had sent me $400! I wrote her immediately. I told her I was going to pay two months’ rent, which would be $260, and this I did, and have the cancelled voucher in my possession. I repaid $50 to one of the officers of the Club who had kindly advanced that amount to me, and $40 to the Club for overdrawn salary. That totalled $350, and left $50 for minor indebtednesses.

In my letter to Miss Harding I also inquired of her whether or not she felt I ought to write direct to Dr. Harding, her brother in Columbus. I had not known Dr. Harding and took it for granted that Miss Harding had informed him of the situation in hand. As for the Votaws, of them I wrote frankly. I would not have been my natural self had I not expressed the resentment I felt.

I also wrote the Votaws a short letter in an attempt to shame them after I had received the $400 from Daisy Harding, and I sent them a carbon of the letter of thanks which I had just written to Miss Harding. Not one of these various letters I sent the Votaws ever came back to me, so I assume they must have received them.

_153_

A letter received from Daisy Harding, written under date of February 10th, 1926, was the longest letter I had yet received from her and was in reply to my letter of February 5th. In this letter. Miss Harding went into detail about many things. She told me how her husband had recently learned the facts of my story for the first time from a man in Marion, who in turn had heard it from Tim Slade. Inasmuch as Tim had told me that he had spoken to Mr. Hoke Donithen, a Marion lawyer, while approaching supposedly sympathetic persons, I assumed it was he to whom Miss Harding referred. She wrote, “I was shocked beyond measure, because I didn’t want Ralph to know and have his faith destroyed, then I was alarmed for fear others might know of the same thing and the terrible damage it would do to you both in your home town....” She further wrote that she hoped and prayed it would not go farther.

Referring to the sharp letter sent to Mr. Votaw by me in reply to his brief note to me, Miss Harding mistakenly alludes to it as having been sent to her sister, Mrs. Votaw, and says, “ ... I got the letter you wrote Carolyn, and Nan, dear, I was ... horribly sad and depressed about it all. I knew you were desperate, but you are not using the right tactics....” She begged that I withhold the story from her other sister, Mrs. Charity Remsberg, in California. “... I want to spare her the shock I had when it was told to me. Furthermore, I don’t want her faith destroyed....”

Miss Harding frequently alluded to the “faith” members of her family would lose when they learned that their brother had been the father of a child. Of what real depth is any faith which can be destroyed by the mere revelation that another faith of highest quality has been maintained between a man and a woman? Webster defines faith as “firm belief or trust in a person....” I defy anyone to say that Warren Harding disqualified himself to be worthy of the faith reposed in him simply because of his fatherhood! What would diminish that faith? Watchful solicitude for the woman he loved above any other? Loving kindness in his material manifestations toward her and toward his child? Loyalty to his political party and to his country? Generosity toward his family? Who more nobly kept these faiths than Warren Gamaliel Harding?

Daisy Harding’s letter went on: “I want you to know, no matter what you think of either Mr. V. or the other brother, that there are no two finer, more honorable and just men living, and because of their love, devotion and loyalty to the one already gone, they are not going to believe anything against him until it can be absolutely proven....” How varied are the conceptions of love and loyalty! And who of us has reached immunity from sin and can judge what works _against_ his brother? Had the case been reversed, who more quickly would have come to the moral and financial rescue of another who needed help and mental sustaining than the very brother whose own child these two men hesitated to recognize? According to a newspaper clipping which I have pasted in my Harding book, President Harding’s very “hobby” was to help the “down and out.” The clipping reads, “Mankind needs encouragement and help. There is much suffering in the world and there is much heart-sickness....” Truly, the recognition of how greatly charity, forbearance, mercy, goodness, and all their kindred attributes work for the stature of the spirit of man was exemplified with pathetic beauty in the heart and life of Warren Gamaliel Harding.

Daisy Harding wrote me the details of the $90,000 brokerage matter she told me about in June of 1925. Then she went on: “Now then on top of that, your claim is put in. Do you wonder that the whole family are up in arms against a thing that is so hard to prove?...”

“_Hard to prove?_” Why, I had kept, with her brother, _the faith_! That very fidelity which her brother and I had shown toward each other; that faith which had protected the Harding name; that very brand of faith was responsible for the fact that _every love-letter, any one of which would have irrefutably proved my story, had been destroyed_. “But if convinced, they will be just,” she wrote. Yet the Votaws had denied me the interview which I knew would have enabled me to advance _sufficient_ proofs.

Poor Daisy Harding! Trying to be fair to me and just to her own family as she understood justice! “... you still have me who never fails a friend ... for the sake of the dear beloved, guard the secret, protect his name and everything will come out all right....”

In spite of the fact that I disagreed with a great deal that Miss Harding wrote, there was one paragraph which pleased me. She was leaving the following Sunday for Florida, and on her way back she said she was either coming to New York or have me meet her in Takoma Park, suburban to Washington, at the Votaw residence, where “we will trash this matter out.” That was exactly what I wished--the opportunity to present the thing to the entire group of Hardings.

_154_

Under date of February 12th, I answered Miss Harding’s letter. I took it paragraph by paragraph. Seeing it expressed the same fear about exposure, which had been regarded as paramountly the most important issue by all of them, even to apparent indifference to the issue that was to _me_ the most important and was _always_ their brother’s _first consideration_, I tried to calm her fears.

I said further that “I refuse to use ‘tactics’ of any kind. I am simply frank and honest about things and cannot be diplomatic in this respect.” I further wrote that I felt the provision I wanted for Elizabeth Ann _was_ left in some way for her, that time might prove this to be true; but if so, someone had intercepted it in a way which might be almost impossible to prove. And my concluding sentence was reminiscent of bygone days when I had had her brother to cheer and comfort me in moments that seemed too difficult to bear.

I added a supplemental letter to this one later in the day, sending her a couple of photographs of Elizabeth Ann and asking her to show them to the Votaws if she went through Washington enroute South.

“The hotels are wonderful and not exorbitant,” wrote Miss Harding to me shortly after she arrived in Miami Beach, Florida. They had taken an apartment. Miss Harding said, “We have ... a dining alcove, a large living-room, dressing-room and bath, all for $150 a month. Isn’t that reasonable?...” She was quite enthusiastic over Miami. “... Perhaps when you get to writing and want new local coloring you can come down here and enjoy a winter in the sub-tropics....” Weary and sick at heart, this prospect seemed pleasant, even if a bit distant.

Miss Harding had received the pictures of Elizabeth Ann and said she thought they were good ones. “She certainly looks sturdy and strong ... the front view is all Britton, but I can’t quite tell about the side view. The cheek and eye are similar to those of yours truly or I imagine it....”

She requested me not to write to the Votaws again until I heard from her; she expected, she said, to be there about the last week in March. As usual, her letter was signed, “Lovingly yours.”

I answered this letter on March 7th. I explained that Miss Breed, whose assistant I was at The Town Hall Club, had been ill and that that fact had doubled my own work at the Club again. I agreed to abide by her request not to write the Votaws. I told her Tim Slade had been in New York the previous week and I had had luncheon with him at the Waldorf on Thursday. I mentioned that I hoped we could have him with us at our conference, for he could give the Votaws some strong evidence.

_155_

But my faith in Tim Slade’s sincere desire to help me had dwindled considerably. I had written him notes, urgent ones, requesting his help, but these notes he rarely answered. Before I approached Miss Harding by wire for the previously mentioned $200, I had telephoned Tim by long distance, asking him to come to my rescue. Mrs. Slade answered and called Tim immediately to the phone. I have always felt that Tim made a confidante of Mrs. Slade about my affairs, but this never gave me great concern. However, when I asked Tim on the phone if he could send me $100 to ease my situation a little, he had answered, rather unpleasantly I thought, “Go after the people in Ohio!” Then, when I told him I despaired of getting any further help because of the attitude the Votaws had taken, he said, “Well, if you don’t hear from them, let me know, and I’ll help.” But the money from Miss Harding had made further request to him then unnecessary.

Why, after all, should Tim continue his proffered and promised assistance? He had no assurance that I could repay him unless he himself were able to financially interest those to whom he had gone with my situation. And, though he had spoken about his intended approach to four or five of Mr. Harding’s best friends, he had never named them to me specifically. I was sure that such men as Hoke Donithen and Mr. Brush of the _Star_ could not be numbered among Mr. Harding’s closest friends. To be sure, Tim had intimated that Charles G. Dawes was _his_ “best friend” and I knew Mr. Harding had admired Mr. Dawes, but Tim said no more about him after my first few interviews with him, and I assumed that he had decided not to approach Mr. Dawes. Mr. Crissinger, too, had given Tim no hope that he would have anything to do with the matter which had so vitally concerned the man who had put Mr. Crissinger in the position he occupied, and it looked miserably gloomy in my opinion from the Washington end.

I myself named over various men who, I felt sure, would be interested in helping, or in influencing the Hardings to see their obligation to Mr. Harding’s child. Among these men were Andrew Mellon, Joseph Frelinghuysen, Senator Newberry, Edward B. McLean, Herbert Hoover, Charles Evans Hughes, and Harry M. Daugherty.

I related to Tim how I myself had endeavored to approach Charles E. Hughes one day in late January, 1926, I think, when, in a fit of despondency, I had concluded that it was useless to continue my appeal to the Hardings and I would simply have to give my child up again. I thought if I could see Mr. Hughes he might settle for me the question as to whether the Hardings were morally obligated to Elizabeth Ann, and I would accept his superior judgment as final.

I retain in this connection the memory of a visit I had with Mr. Harding in 1917 or 1918, when he came over to New York to stay all night with me. I met him at the Pennsylvania Station, where I always met him when he came in on the Congressional Limited about nine o’clock. How sweet to see him, the familiar bag in hand, the great overcoat which I always loved, and which used to make him look even more of a giant than he was! And how I remember his cheery, “Hullo, dearie!” when it seemed to me I could feel myself being kissed as he said it. And the query which invariably followed, “Glad to see me?” as I tried to match my shorter steps to his long ones as we made immediately for a taxi. Even now, so vividly does the sight of the Pennsylvania Station recall these meetings to me, that I sometimes think I shall scream with terror to realize anew that he is actually gone, that I shall see him no more!

That night we were talking and Mr. Harding said to me, “Nan, guess with whom I came over in the train tonight?” I couldn’t guess. “Charles E. Hughes,” Mr. Harding said, and there was pride and respect in his tone. It was then that he told me how he used to think if he could ever make the nominating speech for a presidential candidate he would have attained his highest ambition. But, he added, this wouldn’t satisfy _Mrs._ Harding. I recalled how in 1910 it was rumored that it had been Mrs. Harding who took her husband’s gubernatorial defeat with rebellious feeling. And Mr. Harding was reported to have remained calm throughout, merely averring, “Well, that is the last time I shall ever run for anything!” This recalls also to my mind a clipping in my Harding book, and I think the anecdote given is amusing enough to quote:

WHO SHOULD GET HARDING’S JOB IF HE SHOULD DIE? GUESS!

“Who would take President Harding’s place if he should die?” an applicant for naturalization, Pieroni Amato, of 1339 West Grand Avenue, was asked yesterday by Judge Joseph Sabath of the Superior Court.

“His wife,” was the answer.

Amato was given final papers.

I think Mrs. Harding would have made an admirable politician.

When Mr. Harding told me about coming over with Mr. Hughes I could see how it had meant a very great deal to him to make the nominating speech in behalf of Charles Evans Hughes for President in 1916. And to me that night he spoke his very cordial admiration for Mr. Hughes. He said that in his opinion Mr. Hughes would have made an excellent President.

I told Tim Slade how I had met Mr. Hughes one day on the street in New York and had taken the liberty of going up and speaking to him, saying I had no claim upon him except that I hailed from Marion, Ohio, and had been an admirer of President Harding all my life. And at that time it occurred to me that the steady eyes that smiled at me in appreciation and greeting might some day take on the lights of understanding sympathy if I made up my mind to approach him with my problem.

However, it was many months before I thought of Mr. Hughes again in this connection, and, other sources of help having failed me, I went to the office of the former Secretary of State, at 100 Broadway, and presented to his secretary one of Mr. Harding’s letters to me, as a sort of introduction to her employer. The secretary read the letter, but said I would have to tell her the nature of my call upon Mr. Hughes or she could not arrange an interview for me. To this I replied that it was a matter so personal that I could not divulge its character to her, but I assured her that I would not detain Mr. Hughes a second longer than the time needed to state the purpose of my errand. She remained adamant, and I came away without having seen Mr. Hughes.

When I made mention of Mr. Hughes to Tim Slade and repeated the above incident to him, saying I was sure Mr. Hughes had been very fond of Mr. Harding, Tim smiled broadly, and I felt I had again made a political _faux pas_.

I disclaimed wanting anybody to do anything for Elizabeth Ann unless they were so prompted by their love for her father. Tim declared that in that case he was afraid, after all, that he could make little progress. Though I appreciated Tim’s efforts in my behalf, I knew so little about what he was doing that I felt incapable of advising him what _not_ to do, and, anyway, I had my hands full in trying to bring the Hardings to a realization of their obligation. In this connection I very often said to Tim, “Tim, would you be willing to go with me to the Votaws, or meet with us here in New York for a conference?” He assured me he would be more than glad to tell them the things he knew which pointed irrefutably to the truth some of the Hardings did not care to believe.

_156_

I wrote to Miss Harding on March 14th, 1926, apprising her of my resignation from The Town Hall Club, as assistant to the Executive Secretary, and my contemplated association elsewhere. I told her I planned to have from March 23rd until April 1st free, leaving the Club for good the day following the March 23rd Club Dinner, which I had been asked to supervise from the office end. I further expressed the hope that she and Mrs. Votaw could come on to New York, so that I would be spared the physical strain of a trip to Washington.

On the 20th of March I received from Tim Slade a note, sent special delivery to the Club. I had written him again, asking him for help, and in this instance, he answered my appeal. The note was dated March 19, 1926, and simply stated that he was enclosing his check for $100, which he hoped would help me at that time, and that I should always let him know when he could help me. Tim’s note was signed, “Sincerely, Tim.” There was no salutation, though Tim called me “Nan,” having fallen into that form of addressing me during our interviews at the Waldorf. He was a great deal my senior, but somehow so boyish that it came easy to call him “Tim,” as Mr. Harding had always done.

I answered Tim’s note under date of March 20th, saying I was sure I would be able to pay the money back soon, and that I had not heard from Daisy Harding in Florida as yet about our meeting, but would advise him when I did. He had told me he would endeavor to join Miss Harding, Mrs. Votaw and me in New York if they came there.

Soon thereafter I had a note from Miss Harding, dated March 20th, in which she said that she and her husband were going home to Marion the first of the week. Then, she wrote, in three or four days “brother and I will come East.”

This was the first intimation from Miss Harding that her brother, Dr. George Tryon Harding III, was to sit in at the interview we were to have, and I rejoiced to think that he was coming. He was a man, his brother Warren’s only brother, and would take a man’s view of this situation. I acknowledged the receipt of this note from Miss Harding under date of March 24th, and shall quote my letter almost in full:

“Your letter came this morning. As I understand it, you and your brother, Dr. Harding, are coming East the last of this month or the first of April and will no doubt pick up Mrs. Votaw in Washington enroute. I shall await your wire, however, for I am not absolutely sure I understand your letter correctly.

I am leaving the Club (officially) today, although I shall be coming in every so often for the next week. I expect to take up my other work the 1st of April....

I have on my desk this morning the final annulment papers, which gives me the right and the extreme pleasure of signing myself,

Affectionately yours, NAN BRITTON”

Then I wrote Tim Slade, giving him the outline of Miss Harding’s letter and asking him to try to be on hand when they were here. It made me feel better to know that I was to have the opportunity to talk to the brother and sisters of Elizabeth Ann’s father face to face, and to answer any questions they might put to me without the ambiguity that the written word sometimes imposes.

But my sweetheart’s family must have consulted by letter and changed their minds entirely, for under date of March 25th I received from Marion, Ohio, a letter from Daisy Harding. She wrote that she and her brother thought it would be better for me to come on to Marion to the Lewis home (Daisy Harding’s). “... If you can convince him it will not be necessary to call in the others ... if you have legal papers showing the transaction between yourself and the Willitses, I would bring them along ...” Miss Harding wrote. She suggested that perhaps it would be wiser if I did not plan to see any of my Marion friends while there, but left that for decision when I should reach her home. “I’m enclosing a money order for your transportation here. I can give you more later for your return fare....” This letter, also, was signed “Lovingly,” and there was a postscript which said she thought it best for me to be there by Monday or Tuesday morning. However, I did not receive the letter until Monday noon.

This letter struck me as curiously strange in content, and I thought it over as carefully as I could while making whirlwind preparations for leaving that night. I determined, without giving _that_ determination much thought, that I would have to see Tim Slade and get his advice before going on to Marion. And possibly I might be able to persuade him to accompany me, though I disliked to ask him to go to that expense. I promised my precious daughter I would return in plenty of time to hail the rabbit in his jumps at Easter, and left that night for Washington, arriving the following morning.

_157_

I telephoned Tim Slade from the New Willard, and met him there an hour or so later. It was a glorious morning and we took a walk around the lower end of the White House grounds. It did not occur to me that the great house beyond the trees was occupied. To me it would always be deserted--because the big, genial, great-hearted man who used to live there had gone away....

Tim talked to me about my trip to Marion, and when we returned to the Willard and were seated on a couch in one of the emptier drawing-rooms, we discussed definitely the amount of money which I ought to stipulate as just, in my estimation, for Elizabeth Ann. I told him I wanted only what was fair and within reason and thought that $50,000 as a trust fund for Mr. Harding’s daughter would be equitable. This seemed to me entirely fair in view of the fact that Mr. Harding’s estate had been variously reported at from $400,000 to $800,000. In addition to that amount of $50,000, Tim encouraged me to request a minimum of $2,500 for myself, to pay my debts and to leave me a small balance with which to get started in a permanent regime.