Chapter IX - Wedded Bliss
2011, Sligo
Jed tells Sue that perhaps the next phase of research should start at Merrill’s first wedding in 1912 and then work backwards to reveal Madeline’s ancestry. He says that the Forster side of Tim’s family tree is just as important as the Harrisons’ and the baffling mystery of Merrill’s disappearance from public records, “Maybe we’ll pick up some more clues about Merrill’s strange behavior later in life as we go along.”
Jed reads out a transcription of a short Minnesota newspaper report about Merrill and Madeline’s marriage. It took place at a Catholic church. Madeline was the daughter of Adolph and Mame Forster, “That should help us. There can’t have been too many guys called Adolph Forster living in the St. Paul area in 1912.”
Jed advises Sue that he is going to look for the Forster family in the 1910 federal census, whilst she prepares more fresh coffee. In a flash, the multiple computer screens produce strobe-like effects as thousands of semi-relevant web pages and digitally-imaged documents are scanned for matching keywords.
Jed cannot find a perfect match in the year 1910 for his primary search criteria of ‘Madeline Forster (or suchlike), daughter of Adolph and Mame, possibly Mary.’ In particular, Adolph is proving elusive for the search engine puzzle-solver. He repeats the computer search exercise for a decade earlier. Hit!
Jed is elated, “Got ‘em! We got Adolph and Mame, plus three kids. Madeline’s the eldest by a few years…then there’s another daughter, Teresa, and a baby, son, Leo. Oh, and Adolph’s got a sister called Edith…”
June 11, 1912, St Paul, MN, Courtroom
Madeline is testifying about Horace Forster’s character with regards to his suitability to become her Aunt Edith’s legal guardian. Madeline thinks highly of Horace. She tells the local judge as much, with some glowing personal references. The judge patiently smiles when Madeline naively veers off the necessary topics, telling cherished tales of how Horace always acted like Madeline’s older brother when she was growing up. He lets her finish each story before guiding her back to her written testimony.
Merrill watches his fiancée proudly from the public bench. The judge declares that he is satisfied that Horace is an “appropriate family member with regards to assuring Edith’s best interests are upheld”. The judge also announces that he personally knows the proposed co-guardian, Frank Hammer, the boss of the Minnesota Building Society, and he would not hesitate to approve of Frank’s involvement. The judge makes a less formal closing statement to the Forsters about his liking to see that the family does not have carte-blanche control over Edith’s financial affairs: “This arrangement will serve you well. Relationships can and do change as the years pass by. Always try to maintain the intentions you set out before me today. Good luck and thank you all for attending.”
The judge rises and departs into his side-room chamber. After a short interval, the court clerk presents paperwork to be signed. Merrill then eases his way to the belly of the courtroom to stand alongside Madeline.
As the group is ushered out of the courtroom, Horace thanks Madeline for her kind words before the judge, “You embarrassed me at times back there. My face must have been as red as a beetroot, but it was all nice stuff you said.” With that, Horace pecks Madeline on the cheek.
The bright sunlight beaming through the courthouse glass doors makes Merrill squint, and Madeline puts a hand to her brow to shade her eyes. Horace asks if everything is set for the “big day” tomorrow. “I just love a big wedding,” says Horace with a squeal.
Merrill jests that it is about time Horace settled down with a good woman. Horace blushes again and happily jokes that he’s got too many girlfriends to pick from.
As Horace trots away down the courthouse steps, Merrill says to Madeline that he’ll swim the Mississippi naked on the day that Horace gets married. His fiancée tells him not to tease.
Merrill and Madeline, hand in hand, stroll leisurely back to Merrill’s wedding weekend hotel where the out-of-town Harrisons are staying. Madeline says that she wishes her Uncle Hubert was still around to give her away in church tomorrow. Merrill sympathizes, “It’s so sad for you. There just aren’t many Forster men folk around these days.”
Madeline gloomily agrees, “I know, but ‘Uncle’ Peter will make a good substitute father for the day.”
Merrill likes her choice, “Peter’s a good man. He’s from Horace’s side of the family, isn’t he?”
Madeline nods, deep in sad thoughts. In an effort to get her back in a positive mood, Merrill starts the teasing again, “Hey—Horace would have made a good bridesmaid!” He gets a playful thump on his shoulder for his troubles.
In no time at all, they reach the sheltered foyer of Merrill’s overnight hotel. Waiting to greet them is Merrill’s best man, Leroy. The older sibling is enjoying a big cigar, and blows a large ring of exhaled smoke above their heads. Leroy comments to a beaming Madeline about the ideal weather for a wedding, and she replies with a glowing smile, after looking heavenwards, “It certainly is. Everything is going to be just perfect tomorrow.”
Madeline then advises. “Now, boys, I have to dash off and pack a few things for the honeymoon. Behave yourselves tonight.“
As she leaves, she looks back and shouts with a giggle, “Goodbye, Mr. Harrison.” Merrill blows a kiss and shouts back, “Goodbye, Mrs ...” Madeline quickly interrupts, “Don’t say it yet, Merrill; it’s bad luck. See you guys tomorrow.”
Leroy tells Merrill that he’s a lucky man, “Your Maddie is a beautiful girl.”
June 12, 1912, St Paul Roman Catholic Church
Dressed to the nines, Merrill waits in the top pew, alongside his best man. Behind them, Uncle Bartholomew asks about Merrill’s nerves and comments, “It’s a great pity that your father Thaddeus cannot afford to travel north for the wedding.”
Merrill whispers just enough to be heard over the church organist playing pieces by Pachelbel and Bach. “No, Bartholomew, it’s a dying shame that he chose to spend the money I sent him on booze.” Leroy elbows Merrill in his side, “Not today, Merrill. Leave it.”
Aunt Lizzie senses that she needs to intervene, “You look very handsome, Merrill. I remember thinking on that first day you came up to Le Mars as a teenager, that you would make some lucky girl very happy one day. You’ve got the Harrison good looks.” Bartholomew’s face reddens a little as Lizzie flicks him an affectionate glance.
Along the second pew, Leroy’s wife Irma struggles to keep the young infant in her arms quiet. “Looks like baby Ruby wants to join in the singing today,” says Leroy as he leans over to assist Irma.
The Forster side of the church is more crowded. Seated along packed church benches are lines of predominantly middle-aged ladies. Most are dressed in extravagant, almost garish, multi-colored outfits. Without doubt, the wide-brimmed hats far outnumber the bare-headed male attendees.
In the front pew on the bride’s side of the aisle is the widow who would appear at Madeline’s burial just eleven years later. Widow Mame is dressed oddly in black again, but she has contributed in her own way to the gaiety of the wedding by leaving her veil at home for once. Next to her are her children, Teresa and Leo, unsmiling, as though the imminent service is to be funereal. At the far end of the wooden seat containing the bride’s nearest and dearest, sits Horace Forster. He looks in a state of excitement, and when he catches the eye of Merrill, he flaps his hand to make a theatrical wave. Merrill just nods and Horace’s mother, completing the Forster front row line-up, slaps his hand to end the waving gesture.
The organ music abruptly changes mid-tune. Madeline appears in the aisle at the rear of the church, looking radiant in a cream and ivory ensemble. Horace’s uncle, Peter Schneider, winks at her to lighten the mood, and offers his arm. They link up and start the slow procession along the central aisle towards the altar. The relatively short walk which every girl long dreams about. The hats all turn in sequence when Madeline approaches the main body of the congregation. Smiling faces and whispered endearments accompany the bride as she takes each slow step. Eventually, Merrill glances back and strides sideways to the exact spot that the priest had shown him on the shiny tiled church floor.
On the church grounds after the ceremony, the Black Widow from the front bench emotionlessly congratulates Madeline, wishing the newlyweds good fortune in Mason City. When Merrill next kisses his new wife for the cheering crowd, he whispers in her ear, “She’s creepy.”
Horace claps his hands like a schoolgirl when the happy couple is showered with rice and confetti. A few moments later, amid much laughter, Merrill says to the happy bride, “Throw your bouquet in Horace’s direction. See what he does.” Madeline deliberately tosses her posy in the opposite direction, and a distantly-related young German immigrant girl screams when she completes the catch.
After a decade of mainly overwhelming sadness, Mrs. Madeline Harrison (née Forster) is truly content. At last, her future contains the promise of genuine happiness. She is so glad to be leaving Minnesota, with all its bad memories. In Merrill, she had chosen a man of substance and trustworthiness. Madeline is certain that her own offspring will never have to suffer like she did throughout her childhood. That was her desire since the engagement had been announced.
Chapter X - Forster Forefathers
2011, Sligo
Jed prints off and reads a 1905 Minnesota census return: “Mame Forster widowed. Madeline’s father Adolph has died. Sue, check for Minnesota deaths and burials, 1900 to 1905.”
1904, California
Adolph Forster is outside in the shade at his private convalescence home. He spends most days now in an old-fashioned rocking chair. He looks very ill, yet he is only a relatively young man. He can recall his thirty-fifth birthday celebrations back in St Paul, just eighteen months ago, with great fondness. He had danced the night away with his wife Mamie, and acknowledged how good his life had become. Now he needs a bath-chair just to get out into the garden. But today he is happier. Mame is over for the start of a visit scheduled to last a few days. Down at the bottom of the long garden, two very young children are playing hide and seek. Their laughter reaches Adolph and Mame, carried on warm Pacific breezes. Teresa and Leo are chasing each other around, although young Leo Adolph Forster has barely grasped the physical art of high-speed toddling. His sister is always one pace ahead, regardless of Leo Jr.’s exertions. “Leo Junior,” as he is affectionately called, has no awareness at the age of three, going on four, of his pioneering namesake forefathers. There is no sign of Madeline, the future wife of Merrill.
Mame makes sure that her husband Adolph is comfortable. She says that she has brought some more pills from the Minnesota physician, “These will ease your suffering.”
Adolph wonders out loud why his health has deteriorated so rapidly. Some of the medicines administered to him by Mame before he came to California made him very sick. Mame consoles her husband, assuring him that she was and is only trying to “help.” Ever since the doctor diagnosed that Adolph’s condition was incurable, Mame and her husband became resigned to his eventual fate: “Adolph, I believe that this dose will help you on your way.”
“Is it time, sweetheart?” Mame’s silent nod tells Adolph that their agreed plan to concoct a “good death’” is in its final stages. Without fully realizing it, Adolph is to become one of the early supporters and practitioners of euthanasia.
Adolph says that he is ready to meet his Maker, but he wants a few more days before the lethal mixture of chloroform and morphine is ingested, “Mame, I want to enjoy our children’s company for just a while longer… just until they ask you any difficult questions about my health. Okay?”
“Of course, darling. But just take this small pill for now. It will clear your mind for the journey ahead.”
Before accepting the tablet and a glass of orange juice, Adolph says his last words, “Promise me one thing, Mame. In my memory, dedicate yourself to ensuring that the children want for nothing. Life is too short.”
2011, Sligo
Jed and Sue are in their cottage-style garden. Sue looks rather smug, carrying cold drinks across the back lawn. Beads of sweat drench Jed’s eyebrows. He has been energetically digging potatoes in the late afternoon sunshine.
Jed knows what‘s coming, “Okay, okay, I’ll admit it. That was brilliant work. Not only have you found Adolph’s funeral and burial in St. Paul, but you’ve traced his death all the way to California.”
Sue explains her research logic, “It was obvious. Years ago, if a wealthy person didn’t die in his home county or state, they had usually gone somewhere warmer or into the mountains for health reasons, a bit like what happened to the first wife of Tim’s paternal grandfather, remember.”
“I remember. You deserve a proper drink this evening, Sue.”
“So do you .... macho man. When you finish peeling those spuds!” A play fight breaks out in the muddy vegetable patch.
Returning to the house, Sue laughs out loud when she studies her Irish potato facial mudpack in the downstairs bathroom. Jed soon joins her after returning his tools to the shed. “Shall I run us a bath, lover?”
“I’m not sharing with you. You’re filthy. In body, soul .... and mind, I reckon.”
*************************
Two hours later in the village pub, Jed collects his order from the bar. Sue sits in a quiet corner, occasionally waving at the local old-timers who glance across. It’s pension day, so the old-age pensioners are in a merry state, swapping parish gossip. They don’t even call for “hush” when the six o’clock Angelus sounds from St. Attracta’s church bell-tower, although a few instinctively make the sign of the cross in front of their chests.
The pub landlord Colm ensures that he gets the attention of the elderly bar-stool brigade when he hands over a few cents change to Jed. With an all-too-obvious stage whisper, hand to mouth, he inquires, “Found Merrill yet?” Jed just shakes his head, smiling silently. A few guffaws accompany him and his drinks back to his seat.
When the din dies down, Jed sinks a quarter-pint of Guinness in one go. He then licks and sucks the foamy residue from his top lip. Sue looks at him with a degree of disdain, “Your Irishness is really coming to the surface. You’re so uncouth at times. Are you the same man who once accompanied me around a private buffet party in the Palace of Versailles?”
Jed‘s explosive laugh blows more froth on to the table top, making Sue look to the heavens, “Sorry, I was thirsty. Well, you wanted to know what I’ve found out today about Madeline’s ancestors, the Forsters, yeah? I’m one step ahead of you, or should that be behind.”
“Get on with it, and by the way, I’ll drive us home.” Sue grabs the car keys.
“Now then. Adolph was the youngest of three brothers, and then there’s sister Edith, okay? Actually, it turns out that Adolph had three other siblings, but these all died in infancy. This leaves Adolph as the youngest boy, but he’s over ten years older than Edith. When he grows up, Edith lives with Adolph most of the time.”
“Who are Adolph’s parents. What’s their background?”
“His father was Leo Forster, an immigrant settler from Switzerland. His mother was Emma, a German girl. Leo was a successful merchant tailor. His three surviving sons Leo Junior, Hubert and Adolph, all seemed to do well for themselves as St Paul‘s businessmen ....”
November 1884, St Paul, MN, Lawyer’s Office
Having reviewed a bundle of papers extracted from the office safe, the Forster family’s attorney explains that the execution of Leo Forster Senior’s will is straightforward, and ready for completion. Leo Senior’s widow Emma is in the desk chair, and her three sons and Edith are all sat on a side bench. Leo Junior is the oldest Forster brother and he has his arm around young Edith, who looks bewildered. This is not surprising. She has only started school of late.
Paperwork is signed and witnessed. “As the spouse, and in accordance with the will, Mrs. Emmelina Forster shall now inherit the entire estate of Leo Forster, the recently deceased tailor and alderman of the city of St. Paul. That is all. I just need to get these documents approved at the next Probate Court session. You can go, and accept my commiserations for your loss again.”
These latter words are directed at the younger Forster generation. The legal adviser has requested that Emma should stay behind to review her own will and draft a codicil in the light of outliving her husband. Emma’s offspring stand up to leave, and each kisses Mrs. Forster before turning towards the door. Leo Junior says that he will take Edith to see his new baby son, Horace.
Later that day, Leo Junior’s residence
New mother Amelia is breast-feeding baby Horace. Edith watches with glee and wonderment. Leo Junior keeps a respectful distance away across the drawing room, studying this private domestic scene intensely. He knows that he should be very relieved and contented to witness his healthy son thrive. Many new-born babies in this era just seem to give up and dwindle away after a traumatic birth.
That’s just the way it was. The slightest infection and the infant tended to deteriorate until death. The physicians could treat diseases affecting battling adults, but babies could only stomach so much force-feeding of medicines. If the infection alone did not prove fatal, sometimes the toxicity of the curative elixirs did. It was even worse for young fathers when mother and child were spirited away together. All too often, the greatest gift of life was nothing of the sort. The later stages of pregnancy and then childbirth were times when one’s faith in God was severely tested. Over one hundred years ago, family planning was a high risk business.
Instead of watching the scene with elation, Leo’s thoughts are drifting across troubled waters. With the feeding session complete, and with young Edith continuing to amuse the satiated baby across the room, Amelia tenderly asks him what’s on his mind.
Leo Junior assures his wife, “It’s just a real estate business matter. I’ll sort it out for the St. Paul Building Society this week.”
Amelia suggests that Edith should stay with them for a few days, so that Hubert and Adolph can keep an eye on Emma, “Your momma needs to get used to Horace’s grandpa not being around. It will take some time.”
December 1884, St Paul, Leo Junior’s residence
Amelia feels much stronger now. With the help of the visiting maid, she is able to resume light household duties. Amelia is delighted to assist with preparing her husband’s breakfast each day. She treasures the early morning time spent around the dining table, nurturing her own family. Edith may only be a niece, but her presence has benefited everyone, in Amelia’s mind. She certainly comes in useful when baby Horace cries for attention.
When the maid leaves today, Amelia and Edith prepare to take the baby out for their regular walk around the park in his perambulator, a contraption big enough for twins. Leo Junior kisses all three lingeringly in the hallway as they depart. A friendly neighbor can be heard shouting a familiar refrain, “Good morning, Mrs. Forster, and a good morning to you too, Miss Forster. Ooh, you do look smart today!”
Leo Junior then returns to his study. In his scarlet-tanned leather chair, he contemplates everything around him: not just the pages and pages of meticulously written up client savings accounts; but the walls, the ornate ceiling, the oil paintings, and the adjoining door to the nursery, half ajar. With a sudden flourish, he brushes all his ledger books to one side and breaks down crying with his head in his hands. Today, more than ever, his family secret is too much to bear.
Trying to regain his composure, Leo reaches for his decanter of French brandy. There is little left to consume, but he pours the remainder into his glass and devours it in one gulp. Almost immediately, he reaches into a desk drawer and retrieves another bottle of his preferred tipple. Normally, Leo would treat himself to one moderate measure at working day’s end. Not today. Today he just rips the cork stopper from the new bottle and moves it directly to his lips. He glugs the warming liquid like the old men who frequent the park benches at night.
Glancing down, Leo Junior sees his revolver at the bottom of the still-open drawer. More brandy is imbibed. He cannot look at the weapon, but one hand reaches out to retrieve it, as if it has a life of its own. In deep anguish, Leo fills his mouth one more time with soothing alcohol and winces at his over-consumption. The brandy bottle is calmly placed by the empty decanter on the desk. Even now, Leo is careful to ensure that the precious Building Society accounts are not defaced.
With gun in hand, Leo Forster Junior ambles into the adjoining nursery and stands by Horace’s cot. For one last time, he admires the colorful pictures drawn by Edith: typical childlike images of two adult stick-figures alongside a young girl and baby boy. The neighbor seated on her porch heard a single gunshot.
About fifteen minutes later, this neighbor accompanied a dazed young mother into the Forster residence. A nine year-old schoolgirl also witnessed the discovery of Leo Junior’s lifeless body, knelt by Horace’s bed. The corpse’s head was slumped forward into the bedding, displaying a river of blood from the temple. A severe bullet exit wound to the back of the head had splattered human brain debris all around the baby’s crib.
Young Edith Forster’s piercing howl was understandable, and drew the attention of several other residents of a street in the most affluent part of the city. The significance of what Edith witnessed this day would reverberate for decades, leading to more unnatural deaths and tragic consequences. In fact, from conception to death, the nature of Edith’s life molded the character traits of every following family member to some degree, right through to the early 21st century.