Nine

Mrs. Chapman, I see you’ve met Kathlyn Williams. Isn’t she a miracle?” Mr. Fitzgibbons asked when he reached me. We were shooed away from the parlor, so we moved to a hitching post outside the saloon set. Turning, I looked up at Fitz with some skepticism. Was he aware of the rumors concerning Alden and Miss Williams? He avoided my eyes and nodded in the direction of another stage set. “And there’s the newest heart throb, Miss Babe Greer, the embodiment of innocence, and Mr. Alonzo Swift, the handsomest man in the country. I’ve no doubt that the pile over there is for him.” He pointed at a heap of letters on the table near the door. “Women from all over the world write to him with propositions.”

In the scene they were filming, several courting couples strolled by on what appeared to be a path through a city park. They passed a forlorn-looking Alonzo Swift sitting on a bench. Then, when Babe Greer trotted along, alone, he rose and accosted her. With much yelling from the sidelines, the girl modestly looked at the ground while the man clung to her hand entreating her. She finally pulled away and trotted down the path again, leaving him to mope on the bench.

“It’s an exciting industry, Mrs. Chapman,” Fitz said, as the scene broke up and they prepared to repeat it with changes. “This administration intends to make Chicago the capital of the motion picture industry. Just think what fame it’ll bring the city.”

There were so many much worthier causes that would benefit from attention by City Hall that I felt an urge to burst his bubble. “So why are they moving to Los Angeles?”

“Rumors, mere rumors. They take their cameras to many different places to get realistic backgrounds. Selig is especially proud of the real scenery in his films. He’s sent groups to Florida and Colorado, and the actor and cameraman from his Monte Cristo film out to the California coast to get real pictures of the ocean. His operation is huge and his vision is just as large. Why, he’s negotiating to buy the boats that were built for the Columbian Exposition to represent Christopher Columbus’s journey. He wants to make a film about Columbus. I’m telling you, Selig has big ideas and he’s doing a lot for the city.”

Personally, I couldn’t see how the making of the little scenes, like the one we’d just observed, could in any way help the jobless and indigent who lived in the tenements of the West Side, but I knew Fitz and his boss were thinking of newspaper headlines and society gatherings. I could also bet that increased income for the nickelodeons in the Levee district would add to their campaign coffers. That was how things worked in Chicago.

Before I could debunk his high-flying claims, Detective Whitbread joined us. He asked Fitz what he could tell us about the dead censor.

“Hyde was the second cousin of Mrs. Busse,” he said.

Whitbread grunted. “The mayor’s wife.”

“Yes, well, he had a grocery store in a small town in Indiana, where she grew up. It seems his wife left him and he was quite distraught. Couldn’t bear the small-town gossip, so some of the relatives got the idea to ask Mrs. Busse to help him get settled up here, in the city. They got him to sell the business and, because he’d been spending all his time at the nickelodeon…since his wife’s betrayal, don’t you know…he seemed a good candidate for censor. They’re required to spend a considerable amount of time watching films. Anyhow, it was arranged and he moved here six months ago.”

“I assume he was grateful enough to contribute some of his profits from the sale of his business to the mayor’s campaign?” I asked.

Fitz frowned at me. “Now, now, it’s only to be expected that he’d be grateful. And he’s been extremely faithful to his job. He’s prompt in his reports and has kept the motion picture people happy by not holding up their production schedules.”

“Except for refusing to pass pictures with Kathlyn Williams in them,” I pointed out.

“Now, that’s a very recent thing.” He looked across to the blonde actress, who was sitting near the parlor set.

I’d known Fitz since the Columbian Exposition. He'd never married. I wondered if, like my brother, he was susceptible to the beautiful blonde screen star. Maybe Alden wasn’t the only one. At least I knew that Whitbread was incorruptible in this, as in all things.

Whitbread asked about other Selig studios staff, but Fitz knew no more than what had been reported in the papers and Whitbread was already aware of those facts. I could see that Fitz had been assigned by the mayor’s office to keep an eye on the investigation and I knew he would stick to Whitbread like a leech. Whitbread knew that as well. In fact, he was used to avoiding Fitz. I knew it was why he hadn’t asked me to report on my conversation with Kathlyn Williams yet. We would discuss it later, in private.

“I’ve established that the premises are woefully insecure,” Whitbread said. “Keys appear to be handed out like candy and, while the main activities must be conducted with the aid of sunlight, the evenings are by no means quiet. Any number of people are liable to be around preparing for the next day. Of course, none of them admit to seeing Mr. Hyde or going near the set where he was found. And Selig assures me that the duties of a censor should never involve a visit here, in any case, as the viewings are all done at the downtown offices. He claims to be at a loss to explain Mr. Hyde’s presence.”

“Perhaps some local hoodlums broke in?” Fitz asked hopefully.

“Mr. Fitzgibbons, as you are well aware, we are far from the stomping grounds of the usual ruffians here. As far as our city gangs go, we’re beyond the boundaries of their territories. No, it’s unlikely they’d be lured here. The scarcity of people or businesses for them to prey on is obvious. They would be sorely tried to maintain a living. No, we must look to one of the current or past employees of Selig as the most likely perpetrator, I’m afraid.”

Fitz sighed. I was glad to see that Whitbread maintained his usual independence from the suggestions of the mayor’s representative.

“What about Broncho Billy Anderson?” I asked. “Alden suggested we look at him. Alden said Anderson quit when Selig wouldn’t make him a partner.”

Fitz didn’t like that suggestion. “Oh, you’re talking about Gil Anderson. He’s a partner in another wonderful enterprise up here—the Essanay studios on Argyle. I’m sure he had nothing to do with this. His problem was with Selig, not Hyde.”

Whitbread, however, was interested. He already knew of the connection. “Perhaps there is more to the situation than we know. Fitz, you have a motorcar, don’t you? Why don’t you take us to Argyle Street and introduce us to the famous cowboy?”

“I suppose I could do that.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go and see Mr. Anderson, and then Mrs. Chapman and I can meet Col. Selig downtown to view the particular reel of film to which Mr. Hyde had such a negative reaction yesterday. Come, sir, let’s go.”

Cowed, Fitz led us out to a large touring vehicle and I was glad to see he had a driver, as he had the night before. I checked in quickly with Alden before we left to see how my children were faring, and asked him to get them home in one piece, once they were done with their visit. I knew Detective Whitbread was including me in the investigation because he would prefer not to have to detain my brother. But, if we didn’t find other viable suspects, Alden would be at risk. The possibility of his arrest hung like a cloud on the horizon. I really would have preferred to return home with my children and continued packing for the summer, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bear leaving the city until Alden was cleared. Once that was accomplished, I also hoped to persuade him to give up his idea of heading out to California. I intended to remind him firmly of his commitment to Clara and their children.