A Time to Dance-My America 3 Read online

  A Time to Dance: Virginia's Civil War Diary, Book Three (My America Series)

  Will OsborneMary Pope Osborne

  New York City 1865July 2, 1865

  At last we are settled in our new home in New York City.

  Pa, Jane Ellen, Abraham Lincoln Dickens, and I arrived last night. Baby Abe slept in his little basket for most of the trip, covered with a red blanket. When Jed helped us carry him off the train, he said we looked as if we were headed for a picnic!

  I think I am going to love our life here. I already love the home Jed has found for us -- a small set of furnished rooms above Brown's Shoe Store on Third Street. Jed and Jane Ellen will take the large front room, with Baby Abe

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  in a cradle next to their bed. Pa will sleep in the small bedroom. I will have a cot in a room off the kitchen that was once the pantry.

  I think our rooms here are much nicer than our rooms in Washington City. The front room even has a piano! And Jane Ellen knows how to play!

  Now it is early morning, and she is playing a soft, happy tune. Carriages rattle by on the street outside. A woman strolls down the sidewalk with a basket on her head, calling, "Strawberries! Fresh strawberries!"

  New York seems a bit like a picnic indeed.

  July 3, 1865

  I have spent all morning cleaning our new home. Jane Ellen helped for a while, but quickly became too exhausted. She has not fully regained her strength since Baby Abe was

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  born. The two of them are sleeping now. They both look quite pale and fragile.

  Pa is practicing his violin in his room. This afternoon he will set out to look for work. He has a letter from Professor Withers, the conductor of the orchestra at Ford's New Theatre in Washington. The letter praises Pa's character, and his talent as a musician.

  Ford's New Theatre has been closed since President Lincoln was assassinated there three months ago. Professor Withers told Pa he thought there would be more opportunity for a musician with his talent in New York.

  Jed left early for his first day at his new job. He will be writing for a newspaper called the

  Spirit of the Times.

  The editor there offered him the job because he had read Jed's articles about life in Washington City. He said he liked the way Jed's mind worked.

  The editor said that Jed would be writing

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  mostly about plays and sporting events. But he promised that sometimes Jed could just write what he thinks.

  I love it when Jed writes what he thinks. His thoughts are brilliant. At least, that's what

  I

  think.

  July 4, 1865

  Today is Independence Day. There is to be a grand parade down Fifth Avenue. Jed is going to write about it for his newspaper.

  Pa said we should all go with Jed to the parade and celebrate our country. He said that with the war finally over, Independence Day means more than ever before.

  [Image: Two American flags.]

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  Evening

  The parade was magnificent. Thousands of Union soldiers marched with their regiments. Many walked on crutches. Some had only one arm or one leg. But they all looked proud and brave. One soldier was blind. But, led by two of his fellow soldiers, he carried the American flag for his regiment.

  By the end of the parade, my throat was sore from cheering and my hands were red from clapping. I wanted every single soldier to know how grateful I was for his bravery and courage.

  When we got home, Jed went straight to his desk. By the time he finished writing, Jane Ellen, Pa, and Baby Abe were all asleep. Jed tapped softly on the door of my pantry room and asked if I was still awake. When I said I was, he asked if he could read his article to me.

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  In his article, Jed told all about the parade, and the soldiers, and the blind man carrying the flag. Here's how he ended his story:

  The States of the nation are again United, and once more a single flag floats supreme over every inch of our magnificent country. The wounds of the war ache still, but the nation's heart beats strong. The country is whole and its people are free. The healing has begun.

  I love what Jed wrote. But even more, I love that he wanted to share his writing with me.

  July 5, 1865

  Early this morning, I set out to explore. Pa had left to look for work, Jed had gone to his job at the newspaper, and Jane Ellen and Baby

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  Abe had fallen back asleep. I left a note for Jane Ellen, saying I had gone to the market and would be back very soon.

  What I saw on my walk was amazing.

  I passed houses that looked like palaces, with grand entrances and columns and lawns and beautiful tall windows.

  Then, just a few blocks away, I saw filthy streets with dirty brick buildings all crammed together like rows of toy blocks.

  There were beggars on almost every corner. In some places, whole families sat in the street, asking for pennies from anyone who passed by.

  It is hard to believe that two such different worlds can exist in the same city. Our world seems to be somewhere in between.

  I do not want us ever to be poor. Until Pa finds a job with an orchestra, I wonder if I myself should not be out looking for work.

  10

  Pa heard today that soldiers blocked the entrance to Mr. Ford's theatre in Washington City when he tried to reopen it. The government has ordered that there be no more plays there.

  Jed says many people have turned against the theatre because President Lincoln's assassin, John Wilkes Booth, was an actor. This does not seem at all right to me! President Lincoln loved plays. I do not think he would want people to stop going to the theatre.

  I told Jed my thoughts, and he agreed. But he said John Wilkes Booth's brother Edwin is also an actor. Many people think Edwin Booth is the greatest actor of our time. But he has sworn never to return to the stage because his brother John has disgraced his family.

  Our mother was born in Virginia. She had

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  two brothers. They may have fought for the Confederacy. They might have even shot one of the men I saw marching in the parade on Independence Day. I wonder: Are Jed and I disgraced because our uncles were Rebs?

  July 8, 1865

  This morning we heard newsboys on the corner calling, "Extra! Conspirators hanged! Read all about the hanging!" I rushed out and bought one of their papers for a penny.

  The paper said that the four conspirators who helped John Wilkes Booth plan President Lincoln's assassination were hanged yesterday in Washington. Hundreds of people came to watch. The article said there was a "universal feeling of satisfaction" in the city.

  I find this strange. Hanging the conspirators will not bring the President back to life.

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  Right now, I do not have a feeling of satisfaction. I just feel very sad.

  July 9, 1865

  Jed had his first assignment at a theatre last night. He saw

  The Widow's Victim

  at the New Bowery Theatre. At breakfast he told us all about it. He said the crowd was very rowdy and the evening was very long. Now he must write what he thinks of the play for the paper.

  I would love to see a play. Perhaps I can convince Jed to take me with him when he goes to the theatre again.

  Later

  At supper I asked Jed about going with him to see a play. He said there was very little

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  onstage that was suitable for a young girl to see.

  I said I was not so young, that I was very interested in the theatre, and that in all New York City there must surely be

  something

  suitable.

  Jed said he wo
uld ask his new friends at the newspaper if they can think of anything.

  July 11, 1865

  Hooray! Jed has promised to take me to the theatre! We will spend the afternoon on Saturday at Mr. P. T. Barnum's American Museum. The museum has a menagerie of animals, exhibits of ancient curiosities from all over the world, and a grand lecture hall where plays are performed every day.

  Jed brought home an advertisement for the

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  show that is playing there now. Here is what the advertisement says we will see:

  Claude Marcel or The Idiot of Tarbes

  A Grand Romantic Tragedy featuring

  New and Splendid Scenic Effects, and

  Appropriate Appointments and Costumes

  A

  grand romantic tragedy! I can hardly wait.

  July 12, 1865

  This morning I took a walk down Broadway to see P. T Barnum's American Museum. It is magnificent! It is five stories tall and takes up almost an entire block!

  Jed says Mr. Barnum is famous for playing jokes on the public. He once advertised a "six-foot-tall man-eating chicken." When the curtain went up, there was a man onstage eating

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  a chicken leg. He was a six-foot-tall man... eating chicken! Not a chicken who ate men!

  People laughed, and only a few wanted their money back. Can you imagine? I hope the show on Saturday is better than that!

  July 13, 1865

  I cannot believe that in two days I am finally going to see a play. I was supposed to go to the theatre for the very first time the night President Lincoln was shot.

  On that night, Pa was playing in the orchestra at Mr. Ford's theatre. He was going to let me stand in the back and watch a play called

  Our American Cousin.

  But when the newspapers announced that President Lincoln was going to attend the play that night, Pa said he would not be able to sneak me in.

  I was so disappointed that I cried for hours.

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  I thought it was a great tragedy that I could not go to the theatre. I did not know how great the tragedy would truly be that night.

  On Saturday, I will wear the lacy yellow dress Jane Ellen gave me to wear to Ford's Theatre. Before I go, I will say a prayer for President Lincoln and his family.

  July 14, 1865

  I will not wear my yellow dress to P. T. Barnum's American Museum tomorrow. I will not see the show there, or the menagerie, or the ancient curiosities. Why? Because Mr. Barnum's museum has burned to the ground.

  Jed says firemen worked for hours to put out the fire. They saved all the people who were inside. Still, Mr. Barnum's museum was completely destroyed and most of the animals in his menagerie died in the fire.

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  Thousands of people turned out to watch the building burn. While the firemen worked to put out the flames, pickpockets moved through the crowd. They stole men's wallets and ladies' purses. Thieves also stole things from the stores and shops around the museum.

  How can some people be so terrible?

  July 15, 1865

  This was the day I was to go with Jed to see the play at Mr. Barnum's museum. Instead, I spent the afternoon in bed in my little pantry room. I told Pa and Jane Ellen I felt sick. But what I truly feel is terribly, terribly sad. I keep thinking of the animals who suffered in the fire, and of the firemen risking their lives, and of the pickpockets and thieves.

  I think of the sad, dirty families begging on the streets just a few blocks from our home.

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  I think of the blind and wounded soldiers in the parade, and of John Wilkes Booth, and the conspirators who were hanged in Washington.

  And I think of President Lincoln's family, and how heartbroken they must all still be.

  I no longer want to go the theatre to watch a "grand romantic tragedy." There is too much tragedy in the world already.

  July 16, 1865

  At breakfast this morning, Jed said he was "keeping his eye out" for another play that we could see together. I told him he needn't bother, that I had lost my interest in the theatre.

  The truth is, I do not feel much interest in anything these days.

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  It has been very hot all week. Jane Ellen has spent most of the last few days in bed. I'm sure the weather is making her feel even more exhausted than usual. She never complains, though. She gently rocks Baby Abe's cradle beside her bed, while he frets about the heat.

  Later

  Pa came home this afternoon in poor spirits. He says it is a terrible time to look for work as a musician, as many theatres do not even operate in the summer. It makes me sad to picture him carrying his violin all over the city in this heat.

  No one has suggested that I go to work. But I feel I should help earn money for our rent and food. We have not discussed my schooling

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  yet. Nor have we spoken about what we will do if Pa cannot find work here as a musician. Even though we have unpacked all our belongings, our home still feels very unsettled.

  July 20, 1865

  I bought a newspaper this morning and looked in the Advertisements section for a job. There were many notices for girls to work in factories as trimmers or cutters. I do not know what these jobs are.

  July 22, 1865

  Today Jed lent me his book of plays by William Shakespeare. He said there would be many plays by Shakespeare coming to New York in the fall, and one of them would surely be suitable for us to see together.

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  I reminded Jed that I was no longer interested in plays and the theatre. He just smiled and handed me the book anyway.

  July 24, 1865

  I have been trying to read the plays of William Shakespeare. Jed says the writing is poetry. I see that some of the lines rhyme, but most do not. How can that be poetry?

  July 26, 1865

  Pa still has had no success finding a job with an orchestra. People tell him there will be more work for musicians when "the season" begins in September.

  I told Pa not to worry. I said that I wanted to help our family, and could perhaps get a job in one of the factories.

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  "Nonsense!" he said. "We'll hear no more about that!"

  I think I hurt his feelings. I know how frustrated he is about not being able to support his family.

  July 27, 1865

  This morning, Pa told us he was putting an advertisement in the paper seeking violin students. He asked Jane Ellen if he could use the front room for his lessons.

  "Oh yes!" she said. She assured him that we could tend to Baby Abe in his room while he teaches out front.

  Pa taught violin lessons when we lived in Gettysburg. He had hoped his teaching days were over. But now he seems resigned to going back to it.

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  I lay awake much of last night, thinking that Pa is not very smart about money. It will surely be a long while before he has enough violin students to earn much.

  So this morning, on my way to the market, I walked quickly to the address of one of the factories I had read about in the Advertisements section of the paper. I climbed a creaky set of stairs and peered into a dim, windowless room.

  What I saw was horrible. Dozens of women and girls were working at machines. Some of the girls were even younger than I. The air was stale and damp. The smell was terrible and the heat nearly unbearable. And the noise! The noise was almost deafening. I covered my ears and ran back down the stairs.

  I do not know what to do. I cannot imagine

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  working in such a place. I could apply for a job as a servant in a wealthy person's home. But then I would not be able to help Jane Ellen take care of the baby during the day.

  Why must we always be struggling? I thought our lives in New York would be different.

  July 31, 1865

  There was a notice in Jed's newspaper today about a contest for Civil War veterans -- a left-handed penmanship contest. Any Union soldier who lost his right arm in the war may compete.
The soldier with the best handwriting will receive five hundred dollars. The contest is supposed to inspire veterans to overcome their handicaps and build new lives.

  As I write this, Pa is practicing his violin. Jane Ellen is playing the piano. Jed is gently

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  rocking Baby Abe in his arms. I am ashamed of my feelings of discontent. I must try to remember how lucky we are.

  August 3, 1865

  We finally had a discussion about my schooling. I think Pa and Jed had been putting it off because of Jane Ellen's health. Here is what we decided: For at least another year, I will study my lessons at home with Jane Ellen. I will help her take care of Baby Abe and keep house.

  I do not mind this arrangement at all. Jane Ellen is a wonderful teacher. And to be honest, I was a little afraid of what the schools here in New York would be like.

  [Image: Two American flags.]

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  Jane Ellen got a letter from her friend Becky Lee in Gettysburg today. Becky Lee had wonderful news. She has found her mother's brother and his family, and they are coming to live with her!

  Becky Lee's relatives were all slaves on a plantation in South Carolina. Becky Lee had been trying to locate them since the war ended. Finally she received word from someone who had seen one of her notices in a South Carolina newspaper.

  Becky Lee traveled to a little town near Charleston and found them living in a shack on their former owner's land. She said there were seven people sharing a room the size of our parlor in Gettysburg.

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  I cannot stop thinking about Becky Lee's relatives. In her letter, Becky Lee said there was a girl in the family about my age. The girl must have been a slave, too.

  I have tried over and over to imagine how it would feel to be

  owned

  by another person. But I cannot do it. I simply cannot imagine it. And I cannot imagine how anyone could ever believe it was all right to own slaves.

  August 15, 1865

  Pa has received no inquiries from his notice seeking students. I told him that no one can think of violin lessons in this weather. I said that as soon as the heat spell ends, people will think of music again.

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  Jed has found another play for us to see together. It is a play by William Shakespeare called

  King Lear.

  It will be performed at the Broadway Theatre on Broome Street. We will see it in two weeks.