We rushed on board the RMS Olympic in the final hour after quickly changing our clothes in the back room of the 300 Club, stuffing the last of my belongings into my trunk and transporting it all, along with Addie’s rocking horse, to the ship with only minutes to spare. Archie suspected that we’d have no problem finding extra tickets because some people had chosen not to travel, given the new financial situation unfolding.
It was an enormous ocean liner, 882 feet long according to the steward, who showed us to our suite, with almost three thousand people on board, including the passengers, officers and crew. I looked around, admiring every element of our new surroundings, the carved oak writing desk, the ornate marble fireplace, the wrought-iron beds and embroidered linens. I wanted to remember every detail of this moment as we prepared to set sail.
“Do hurry back up to the promenade deck as soon as you can,” the steward said once our luggage had been delivered. “We depart at four P.M. sharp, and everyone always wants a chance to say goodbye. We won’t be seeing land again for five and a half days.”
When I first moved to New York, I had marveled at how elaborately people dressed for the theater, but I’d never seen such splendor as I saw that day. Some women on deck wore fanciful, wide-brimmed hats with ostrich plumes and bird-of-paradise feathers, silk-and-velvet-trimmed shawls and dresses with ruffles and lace and beading, topped with the most extravagant jewelry. It was quite a display of wealth, as if everyone were fleeing the woes of Manhattan and taking their most expensive jewels with them.
The horns sounded and a brass band began to play as we felt the ship—assisted by a fleet of tugboats—start to pull out of the harbor and toward the Atlantic.
“Let’s find a spot at the railing,” I said, taking Addie’s hand and linking my other arm through Archie’s.
I was wild with excitement for all that lay ahead. It was shocking to think it had been only two and a half years since I’d arrived in Manhattan and knocked on Ziegfeld’s door, all but demanding to be cast in the Follies, thinking that was the only thing that could make me truly happy. And yet now here I was, with the two people I desperately loved, two people whom only days ago I thought I’d lost forever, and soon I’d be onstage rehearsing with one of the most talented and well-respected tenors of our time.
Passengers leaned over the railing, waving frantically to their families and loved ones who stood on the pier to see them off. We’d already said our goodbyes in Brooklyn, but Addie started waving madly anyway.
“Goodbye,” I said, joining her. “Goodbye!”
I picked Addie up so she could see everything that we could see, and Archie wrapped his arms around us both.
“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” I said, looking up at him.
“You bet your bottom dollar we’re doing it, Olive Shine,” he said, squeezing me tighter.
Everything had happened so fast. We were starting a new life together, the three of us, setting off on an adventure that was both thrilling and uncertain. As I looked out to the island of Manhattan, its tall buildings catching the last of the late afternoon sun, I’d never felt more confident that this would be my greatest adventure yet.