Firsthand Accounts
My first and most important source was my great-uncle Albert Caldwell. He never tired of answering my questions about the Titanic. About 1973 he came to Raleigh, North Carolina, where my family lived, and spoke before a large group of our friends and acquaintances. It was the same speech he had been giving since 1912. I remember the speech well, along with the in-depth conversation that followed at our house.
Albert left us a copy of his Titanic speech, written down at last in 1962 and last updated in May 1966. He titled the speech “They Said That the Titanic Could Not Sink.” The Xeroxed typescript was a treasure of my childhood and is a treasure today. Even more of a treasure was the audiotape interview of Albert made by my mother’s cousin Bill Romeiser, about 1976. It is still good to hear Albert’s voice telling the story of his missionary service in Siam and his trip home via the Titanic.
When Albert died, family memories of what he had told us became important. I consulted his second wife, my great-aunt Jennie Whit Congleton Caldwell, about various aspects of Albert’s story. My father, Lloyd Hedgepeth, had heard Albert’s Titanic engine room story so many times that Dad could describe nearly every piece of equipment. Dad and my mother, Kay Congleton Hedgepeth, remembered parts of the Titanic story that I had forgotten, as did my sisters, Jan Wright and Anne Hedgepeth, and cousins Virginia Romeiser, Vera Congleton, and Jim Congleton.
The Caldwells’ grandson, Chuck Caldwell, also recalled the Titanic saga as told by his grandparents. Besides offering some memories of their Titanic story that I had not heard, Chuck spent much time reconstructing the Caldwells’ movements about the Titanic on the night of the sinking in excellent detail, using Sylvia’s and Albert’s accounts as a basis.
Artifacts
Items belonging to Albert Caldwell that were passed down through my family revealed much about his life, including his high school graduation program and many family photos.
By far the most exciting artifact Albert left was the photo of the Caldwells on the deck of the Titanic. Other photos were kindly loaned to me. Chuck Caldwell supplied family photos of Albert, Sylvia, and Alden at many stages in their lives. Many college-era photos of the Caldwells came from Park University’s Fishburn Archives, courtesy of archivist Carolyn McHenry Elwess. Photos of the Caldwells and their friends Bess and Sam Conybeare were loaned courtesy of Anne Conybeare Trach and Marcia A. Trach, the Conybeares’ daughter and granddaughter. The Trachs also let me copy a postcard, picturing the Titanic, which Albert sent to Sam Conybeare after the Carpathia safely docked in New York. John Robertson furnished a stunning photo of the Caldwell family taken shortly before they left Siam, handed down from his grandfather, Dr. C. C. Walker. State Farm Insurance Company archivist Dan Barringer loaned photos of Sylvia and her second husband, G. J. Mecherle. My mother, Kay Congleton Hedgepeth, let me use the Congleton family photo taken outside their old farmhouse.
It was amazing what turned up in old scrapbooks and boxes of mementos. Bruce Parrish, historian of the Bloomington (Illinois) Community Players Theatre, patiently went through scrapbooks to find playbills, photos, reviews, and news clips of Sylvia’s performances on stage. Dan Barringer at State Farm located Christmas cards sent by Albert to his customers that showed which companies he worked for, an area that had been very unclear before. In my own family’s closet, I found many Congleton family artifacts, including Jennie Whitley’s school essays and her doodled-in Latin book, as well as A. B. Congleton’s teaching certificates. I also came across Jennie’s recipe collection, which offered interesting insights about Albert and Jennie’s life together. Someone in the Congleton family passed along the funeral program for Raymond Milton Caldwell.
Alden’s and Jennie’s paintings are owned by my mother, who graciously took them off the wall to be included as illustrations in this book.
Documents
Many documents were critical in telling the Caldwells’ story. The Caldwells’ files at the Presbyterian Historical Society (PHS) were key to their personal history and how others perceived them. Sylvia’s personnel file there is designated as RG 360-24-24 and Albert’s as RG 360-24-23. The files didn’t say why the pair resigned from their missionary work in Bangkok, but microfilm from the PHS’s secretarial files revealed that information and the rich story around it. That roll of film is labeled “Secretaries’ files: Siam (Thailand) mission, 1865–,” call number MF NEG. 170 r.3.
Sylvia Caldwell Mecherle’s letter to Titanic researcher/author Walter Lord was quoted in “Sylvia Caldwell, Second Class Passenger” on Paul Lee’s website, http://www.paullee.com. Sylvia quoted with an accent the man who famously told her the Titanic was unsinkable: “Yes lidy God himself . . .” The quote has been so often repeated as “Yes, lady,” that I used that format. So many other letters also helped round out the story. John Robertson, Dr. C. C. Walker’s grandson, still has a letter from Albert, written to Walker from the Carpathia. The text of the letter was passed along to me courtesy of Don Lynch and George Behe. Mr. Robertson was kind enough to clarify a few points based on the original letter. Carolyn Elwess of Park University furnished a letter from Addie B. Wyeth to an unnamed friend shortly after the Titanic in 1912, which was charming in its forthrightness about Sylvia’s personality. Carolyn also copied an important letter from Joseph E. McAfee to Lowell McAfee, April 19, 1912, about the Caldwells’ arrival on the Carpathia.
Other letters that played a part in this book included Albert’s undated hand-written poem to Jennie, a letter from Jennie’s sister Bess Congleton circa December 1936, and a letter from Albert to Dot Congleton on September 8, 1976, all in my own collection. Titanic historian Ed Kamuda passed along a Christmas card from Albert to Ed, circa 1972, and a letter from Sylvia to Ed, September 6, 1963.
Carolyn Elwess shared many other types of documents, including an affidavit by Albert regarding Alden’s family tree, in order to affirm that Alden was a U.S. citizen; Alden’s at-last-granted citizenship papers; and death certificates for Sylvia, Albert, and Alden. Another key affidavit came from my own collection. It was by Albert’s mother showing that Stella Caldwell was his adoptive sister, not his natural sister.
Titanic historian Walter Lord corresponded with me over many years. He confirmed that the Titanic story as I heard it from Albert was as he had heard it as well. He authenticated the photo of the Caldwell family on the deck of the Titanic. Lord also owned a letter from Mary Hewlett to Marcia (no last name given), 30 May 1912, available through Dr. Paul Lee’s website.
Alan Ruffman and Garry D. Shutlak furnished a key work, “Undated Recollections of Mrs. Henry Reginald Dunbar Lacon (née Hilda Mary Slayter; April 5, 1882–April 12, 1965),” c. late 1950s, which is Hilda Slayter’s unpublished memoir. It was found and transcribed by Ruffman with the aid of Shutlak, Senior Reference Archivist, Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management, Halifax. I am grateful that Shutlak passed along the memoir to Chuck Caldwell and allowed me to use it.
Testimony by Titanic crewmen Frederick Barrett, George W. Beauchamp, Reginald Lee, and Frederick D. Ray, all on the Titanic Inquiry Project (available on the internet), were of high value. That website in general was an excellent source.
Brian J. Ticehurst unearthed American Red Cross, “No. 65 (American),” The Emergency and Relief Booklet, 1913. This source, supplied by Ticehurst to Chuck Caldwell, gives a listing of goods lost by one family on the Titanic. The booklet describes the applicant for relief as a missionary as returning from Siam with an invalid wife and infant daughter. Apparently the Red Cross’s notation about an infant daughter was in error; surely this described the Caldwells.
Garry Shutlak supplied R.G. 41 Series C Volume 76A Coroner’s Records, Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management, Halifax, regarding a crewman possibly associated with the watch-bribe story. Chuck Caldwell kindly passed this along to me.
Chuck Caldwell’s family trees, traced through Ancestry.com, were invaluable.
One piece of oral documentation was of great help. Dan Barringer of State Farm Insurance passed along a story told to him by a former worker, which illustrated the strong moral stand taken by G. J. Mecherle in matters of office romances.
Published Materials
When Albert died, I discovered among his effects an extremely rare short booklet, Women of the Titanic Disaster, written by “Mrs. A. F. Caldwell” and published in St. Joseph, Missouri, by A. W. Themanson Publishing, 1912. The booklet was a godsend in letting me hear Sylvia’s voice. Much of her description of the lifeboat and the Carpathia comes from that source.
Albert and Sylvia themselves bought in 1912 a copy of Marshall Everett’s Story of the Wreck of the Titanic: The Ocean’s Greatest Disaster—Memorial Edition (L. H. Walter, 1912).
Several publications from Park College, including the Park College Stylus and Park Alumniad, all courtesy of Carolyn Elwess, were gold mines of information. These publications gave a well-rounded picture of Sylvia Harbaugh and Albert Caldwell as students and then as a young married couple. Many of their first-person accounts were quoted verbatim in Carolyn’s own privately published article about the Caldwells, “Just as the Ship Went Down” (1998). She also wrote the privately published “The Titanic Resurfaces” (2010), based on those firsthand accounts. Carolyn located and transcribed key 1912 articles from the Platte County Gazette (Missouri) that otherwise would have been hard to find.
Washington Dodge’s speech to the Commonwealth Club of San Francisco, May 11, 1912, was republished in the Union Democrat (Sonora, Calif.), on July 10 1998. Dodge quoted an article from a Roseville, Illinois, newspaper that reportedly ran April 26, 1912. No one has been able to locate a copy. However, archivist Heather D. Richmond of Western Illinois University unearthed the Monmouth (Illinois) Daily Atlas story of April 24, 1912, “Common Sailors Heroes of Titanic, Say Survivors.” Fortunately, it largely parallels Dodge’s quotes from the Roseville publication.
Ruth Becker’s first-person narrative from Lifeboat 13 was useful. It is quoted in both “Ruth Becker: Child, Survivor, Heroine,” http://Titanic-children.webs.com, and in “Ruth Elizabeth Becker Blanchard,” http://www.angelfire.com/biz6/RuthBeckerBlanchard/story.html. I thank Don Lynch for clarifying Ruth’s story and eliminating some mistakes I had included about her.
Articles with accounts by Percy Thomas Oxenham and Elizabeth Dowdell, published on the Encyclopedia Titanica website, was very helpful. Indeed, that entire website had much valuable information.
Books
Lawrence Beesley, The Loss of the S.S. Titanic (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1912; reprint, 2000); also, Beesley’s testimony, “Testimonies of Healing,” Christian Science Sentinel, 20 December 1913, p. 314.
Charles Edwin Bradt, William Robert King, and Herbert Ware Reherd, Around the World: Studies and Stories of Presbyterian Foreign Missions (Wichita, Kansas: The Missionary Press, 1912).
Daniel Allen Butler, Unsinkable: The Full Story of the RMS Titanic (Cambridge, Mass.: Da Capo edition, 2002).
Eric Caren and Steve Golman, Extra Titanic: The Story of the Disaster in the Newspapers of the Day (Edison, NJ: Castle Books, 1998).
Donald Hyslop, Alistair Forsyth, and Sheila Jemima, Titanic Voices: Memories from the Fateful Voyage (New York: St. Martins’ Press, 1998).
Walter Lord, A Night To Remember (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1955).
Don Lynch, Titanic: An Illustrated History (New York: Hyperion, 1992), and “Alden Gates Caldwell: Titanic Survivor,” The Titanic Commutator 17, no. 2 (August–October 1993): 29.
Logan Marshall, 1912 The Sinking of the Titanic (abridged, edited, and reprinted in 1997 by Bruce M. Caplan, Seattle Miracle Press).
W. H. Sheridan McGlumphy, Directory: Tax-Payers, Caldwell County, Missouri (Kingston, Mo.: March 1906).
E. E. O’Donnell, The Last Days of the Titanic: Photographs and Mementos of the Tragic Maiden Voyage (Niwot, Colo.: Roberts Rinehart, 1997).
Violet F. Rowe, Images of America: Glenshaw (Charleston, S. C.: Arcadia, 1977).
Karl Schriftgiesser, The Farmer from Merna (New York: Random House, 1955).
Rev. Elisha B. Sherwood, Fifty Years on the Skirmish Line (Chicago: Fleming H. Revell, 1893).
Robert E. Speer, Dwight H. Day, and Dr. David Boviard, Report of Deputation of the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions to Siam, The Philippines, Japan, Chosen, and China (New York: Board of Foreign Missions of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., 1916).
Walter Williams, ed., A History of Northwest Missouri 3 (n.d.).
Periodicals:
George Behe passed along a wonderful, revealing set of 1912 newspaper articles about the Caldwells from the St. Louis Globe-Democrat (Missouri), the Washington Post (Washington, D.C.), the New York Sun, the New York Herald, and the Pittsburg Daily Dispatch. (That Pennsylvania newspaper’s name did not feature the “h” that is now customarily part of the word “Pittsburgh.”)
Another key source was Bill Kemp, librarian and archivist with the McLean County Museum of History in Bloomington, Illinois, who sent an excellent set of interviews of the Caldwells over the years that appeared in the Bloomington Pantagraph. Their first-person accounts—some by Sylvia, some by Albert, some by both—were central to the unfolding of the story.
Important articles on Albert’s Chautauqua experience appeared in the summer of 1912 in the Holt County Sentinel (Oregon, Missouri), preserved by the Library of Congress.
Also, Dan Barringer of State Farm Insurance furnished many contemporary articles from company newsletter ALFI, which were particularly helpful in discussing the careers of Sylvia and her son Raymond.
An obituary for Caroline Sweetser Howard Dennis from an unnamed Iowa newspaper, located on Ancestry.com by Paula Noles, answered the nagging question of who Stella Caldwell’s natural parents were. Jacky Johnson at Miami University of Ohio delved into Western College publications and documents to discover further information on Stella for me.
Other useful articles came from various newspapers, including the Cedar Rapids Daily Republican (Iowa); the Evening Tribune (Ames, Iowa); the Richmond Times-Dispatch (Virginia); the Richmond News-Leader (Virginia), the Pittsburgh Press (Pennsylvania) and the St. Petersburg Times (Largo-Seminole edition, Florida).
Missionary periodicals that were of help included the Annual Report of the Board of Foreign Missions of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America for multiple years, Seventy-Fifth Anniversary Series: Siam and Laos, The Missionary Review of the World, and Women’s Work.
Controversies and Educated Guesswork
As I noted in the introduction to this book, the Caldwells’ story was sometimes thick and full of texture due to abundant firsthand accounts, and other times it was spindly for lack of solid evidence. In some of the more spindly places, I was able to discuss various debatable issues in the text. In other cases, however, the discussion was too unwieldy or unreadable in the context of the story, so I discussed the debatable points in the footnotes. Those footnotes are available through www.NewSouthBooks.com/raretitanicfamily/sources, but since they don’t appear here, I will sum up sources on some of those lurking questions:
Was Sylvia really sick? All the years I was growing up, I heard the rumors in my family that Sylvia faked an illness to leave Siam. We didn’t know Sylvia, and our suspicions were tainted by that fact. After much searching, I found through the records of the Presbyterian Historical Society that she had been diagnosed with neurasthenia, and when I researched what neurasthenia was, the rumors began making sense. The disease was once popularly diagnosed but became discredited many years ago. I found out much about the disease’s rise and fall from the medical lexicon via sources including Frank K. Hallock, MD, “The Sanatorium Treatment of Neurasthenia and the Need of a Colony-Sanatorium for the Nervous Poor,” Boston Medical and Surgical Journal 164, no. 3 (19 January 1911): 73-77; Ruth E. Taylor, “Death of Neurasthenia and its Psychological Reincarnation: A Study of Neurasthenia at the National Hospital for the Relief and Cure of the Paralysed and Epileptic at Queen Square, London, 1870–1932,” The British Journal of Psychiatry 179 (2001): 550-557; Richard N. Fogores, MD, “Dysautonomia: A Family of Misunderstood Disorders,” About.com Guide; and Tom Lutz, Doing Nothing: A History of Loafers, Loungers, Slackers, and Bums in America (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2006). These sources ranged from actual case studies of physical symptoms of neurasthenia in Taylor’s study to Lutz’s contention that neurasthenia was a form of loafing. Medical historian Mike Flannery of University of Alabama at Birmingham scoffed at the diagnosis because “neurasthenia” was too blanket a term; it could have meant lots of things.
It was intriguing to find out what the treatment was for neurasthenia in Frederick A. McGrew, MD, “Neurasthenia and the Rest Cure,” Journal of the American Medical Association 34 (1900): 1466-1468. I saw some historic evidence of that treatment at one of the Flagler hotels in St. Augustine, Florida, recently. A Turkish bath there catered to people who were in Florida for their health around the turn of the twentieth century, including those with neurasthenia.
Most critical of all in determining whether Sylvia was really ill was a Line a Day Diary penned by Siam missionary Bess Conybeare (Elizabeth M. Furniss Conybeare). The diary was furnished by Anne and Marcia Trach. Bess’s diary showed that Sylvia truly was ill much of the time.
Did the Caldwells try to take the Carpathia home from Naples? Pieces of this interesting puzzle have only recently fallen into place. Albert’s niece and her husband, Kay Congleton Hedgepeth and Lloyd Hedgepeth, recalled that the Caldwells considered taking the Carpathia from Naples—“without a doubt,” Kay says. Anne Hedgepeth, Albert’s great-niece, recalled the same thing, remembering that Albert actually went to the ticket office to book the Carpathia. My childhood memory was that Albert got onto the Carpathia and looked it over, speaking to sailors aboard, although no one else recalls that. I always had the idea that he thought about taking the Carpathia.
Meanwhile, the Caldwells’ grandson, Chuck, had the impression that Sylvia insisted they take a large ship, perhaps even after they had bought tickets on another vessel, although he did not think it was the Carpathia.
Admittedly, Albert’s tape says he merely asked the name of the ship and did not mention a desire to take the Carpathia.
Chuck Caldwell recalled from childhood that Albert said they became afraid of cholera, somehow spurring their journey home. Chuck always associated that fear with leaving Siam, but the mission records now in the Presbyterian Historical Society show no concern about cholera and show that Sylvia had been diagnosed with neurasthenia.
Then I came across a key book, Frank M. Snowden’s Naples in the Time of Cholera, 1884–1911 (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1995). The book makes clear that cholera was a big problem in Naples—which was exactly where the Caldwells had planned to take the “rest cure” for Sylvia’s neurasthenia. Knowing that the Caldwells’ plan was to spend some time in Naples, I am guessing that discussion of the ongoing 1911 cholera outbreak, just coming to public light, caused the young family to cancel their Naples plans in a hurry.
It makes sense, then, that the Caldwells might have seriously considered fleeing Naples on the first available ship, which happened to be the Carpathia. The Carpathia was in Naples on March 14, 1912. See Istria on the Internet, “Carpathia,” istrianet.org. The ship left the next day, according to “List or Manifest of Alien Passengers for the United States: S.S. Carpathia, sailing from Naples, 15th March 1912.” I’m grateful to Chuck Caldwell for copying the Immigration Service manifest to me.
It would seem to be a big question as to why the Caldwells would be able to throw together a European trip on the spur of the moment after they decided cholera rendered Naples unsafe. However, a letter to the editor of Railway Age Gazette of Oct. 18, 1912, offered insight. According to the letter-writer, a trip to Europe was economical and was considered to be a destination for people of moderate or even poor means.
Did Albert really try to bribe his way off the Titanic? No report from the era ever mentioned Albert bribing his way off, and it seems likely it would have come out if he had done so. It was legitimate for men to be on the lifeboats—Lawrence Beesley and Washington Dodge were already aboard 13 when the Caldwells arrived, so no bribe was needed. Beyond that, though, I have pieced together evidence against the bribe theory.
The allegation of a bribe came to my attention via my cousin, Jim Congleton, who had clipped an article by Scripps-Howard News Service, “Titanic Fever Pushes Up Auction Sales Prices,” c. November 1998 from a New Bern, N. C., newspaper. It told of a watch that Albert supposedly gave a crewman to get the family off the Titanic. The watch had recently been put up for auction. The article seemed to believe that the Caldwells lived in London at 2 Upper Montague Street. Indeed, that is the address they gave—see “Exhibit B—Alphabetical List of Second-Class Passengers on Steamship ‘Titanic,’ April 10, 1912,” in “Titanic” Disaster: Report of the Committee on Commerce, United States Senate (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1912), p. 50. And yet, we know for a fact that the Caldwells did not live in London. Clearly the list came from the White Star Line, as Albert would have given this temporary address as he waited for a hoped-for ticket cancellation.
Proof that this was not a permanent address for the Caldwells came from, of all places, a book designed to teach English to non-English speakers by having them read newspaper advertisements. In Louis Hamilton, The English News-paper Reader (Leipsic: G. Freytag, 1908), the advertisement reprinted on p. 260 showed clearly that 2 Upper Montague St. was a rooming house called The Bansha and catered to tourists. It’s clear 2 Upper Montague Street was still a rooming house called the Bansha in 1912, based on sources of the day.
I consulted Christie’s auction house about the watch, which Christie’s sold in sale number 8182, lot number 32. Christie’s described the watch as coming to Albert from a relative, James Caldwell of Woolfords, Scotland. I received cordial responses by email from Emily Fisher of Christie’s. Christie’s also directed me to Charles Miller, the auctioneer who had handled the sale. I found via those contacts that Christie’s had no further record of the sale nor any further information on the watch.
Research showed that James Caldwell was actually fighting fires set by striking miners at his coal mine in 1912. His frantic efforts to put out fire at his mine are mentioned in “Woolfords Coal Mining,” Woolfords History, http://www.forth.themutual.net/woolfordshistory.html. The coal strike either ended four days before the Titanic sailed or one day after, depending on the source giving the information. Even if it ended a few days before the Titanic’s sailing date, it would have been very unlikely for James Caldwell to have gambled that all really was settled and that miners would not set the place on fire again while he made a mad dash to see relatives in London and pass along a watch to them. True, James Caldwell could have mailed the watch to Albert or, less likely, visited him in Bangkok or Missouri. As of now, however, we can’t find a relationship between James and Albert. It seems the bribe story is, therefore, a mistake of some sort.
Interestingly, Albert’s great-nephew Jim Congleton said that when he read the watch-bribe article, he recalled Albert saying he had left his watch on the bedside table on the Titanic. I recalled Albert saying he left money in a box at bedside, although I don’t recall a mention of a watch.
Why was Lifeboat 13 stuck? Albert and Sylvia both reported on Lifeboat 13 being stuck fast to the side of the Titanic, resulting in Lifeboat 15 descending on top of 13, so close that the frightened occupants of 13 beat on the bottom of 15. At that point, crewmen Frederick Barrett and Robert Hopkins cut 13’s ropes with a knife, thereby freeing the lifeboat from the Titanic.
There is a disagreement as to why 13 was stuck. Lawrence Beesley, in his book, said the release mechanism was a pin that had to be tripped. It was small and hard to find, and the crew was not familiar with the mechanism. That may be so.
However, Albert said in his audiotape and in his speech that a lever designed to release the lifeboat’s block and tackle was gummed up with red paint. The color was seared into my memory as a child, because it had never occurred to me before then that the Titanic was in color. I was kind of embarrassed about how silly I had been to think of the ship as being black and white only, like her photographs. The color issue was seared into my sister Anne’s memory as well, as she recalled the mechanism as being gummed up with “shiny red paint,” according to Albert’s description. Whenever Uncle Al described this to us, he would pretend to be pulling an imaginary lever. Albert also referred to paint gumming up the mechanism in interviews with the press in Richmond, Va., where he spent the latter part of his life. See “A Trunk on the Titanic Contains Some of Albert Caldwell’s Gold,” Richmond Times-Dispatch, 7 September 1985. After the Titanic was found at the bottom, the Times-Dispatch rounded up various articles in which Albert had been interviewed over the years and quoted them. He clearly had mentioned the paint in those newspaper reports.
A lever did not square with a small, hard-to-find pin. There was some question as to whether Albert could see the color in a pitch black night with no moonlight and no light on the boat. It is possible, of course, he observed the color as dawn broke or afterward.
The question of whether 13 was stuck by a hard-to-find pin or a painted-over lever isn’t settled by this, but it’s clear that Albert did perceive of a painted-over lever as the culprit.
How rare was this Rare Titanic Family? Using the passenger lists on Encyclopedia Titanica, I counted groups of people with the identical last names and assumed each last name constituted one family group. I then consulted the survival list and saw how many of those original groups arrived in New York intact. Obviously, this method has some flaws. Members of the same family could have had different surnames, or multiple people with a common last name might have represented more than one family. Thus, my estimate that only ¼ of Titanic families survived intact is an educated guess. It’s probably a good rough estimate, but it is only rough.
Were the baby shoes Alden’s? When Albert’s effects came to my mother, among them were a pair of soft leather baby booties smashed flat against Albert’s copy of Sylvia’s Women of the Titanic Disaster. The booties and booklet appeared to have been saved together. I have always hoped the little shoes were stored there because they were Alden’s booties that he wore off the Titanic, although I’ve been unable to find the answer. I can say that I’ve tried. The booties fit a baby at age 10 months (I tried them on my own children). I consulted a University of Alabama professor whose expertise was old clothing. He said they were probably of the right era, as they featured machine stitching and hand-work, but he couldn’t discern anything further.
Lawrence Beesley in his book reported that Alden’s toes were “exposed,” so Beesley covered them with a blanket. That could have meant Alden kicked off a blanket to expose his toes (with his feet still clad in booties) or kicked off a bootie (resulting in exposed toes) or had never been put in shoes at all but had wiggled his toes free of the blanket he was wrapped in.
However, having been outside to check on the situation after the collision with the iceberg, Albert knew how extremely cold it was. It stands to reason he and Sylvia would have put Alden’s shoes on him if the shoes were not in the locked trunk. They probably were not, as Alden seems to have lost the keys to the trunk earlier in the day and would have probably been wearing shoes at the time he lost the keys. Maybe the baby even wore the shoes in bed, as they were soft, not hard-soled. As an adult, though, Alden, had never heard of a pair of shoes related to the Titanic. Alden wondered if perhaps the shoes belonged to his stepmother, Jennie.
After the advent of the internet, I found a similar pair of shoes on the web page of the Wisconsin Historical Society. The Society didn’t know much about them, but felt they were modeled after Indian moccasins sometime between 1850 and 1900. The booties, they felt, were clearly designed to Midwest taste. Would such things have been sold in Siam? The Society doubted that.
Then I had a breakthrough in the archives at Samford University in Birmingham, Alabama, while looking through the papers of former university president A. P. Montague. An envelope fell out labeled something like, “Evelyn’s baby shoe—a souvenir of a lovely baby.” The shoe in the envelope, though designed for a female newborn (it featured a pink ribbon), was virtually identical in construction to my shoes. I found that Evelyn had been born in Alabama in 1907—four years before Alden. In that case, the shoes were more of Alden’s era than his father’s (Albert was born in 1885). But would a baby in Siam have owned such a shoe? In time I found an account by Ed and Daisy Spilman in the Presbyterian Historical Society microfilm. Ed ran “the Godown,” a warehouse type of affair where all the goods missionaries would need were imported. Most of these goods came from America or Europe. So it is possible, then, that the shoes were imported via the Godown, or perhaps bought in Europe on the way to the Titanic, or maybe given to Alden as part of the new set of clothes given to survivors. Then again, they might have been Jennie’s (born 1900) or Raymond Caldwell’s (born 1914). Here’s hoping that someday, we’ll find the answer.