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Page 8.
Chapter 2. Lizzie & John–Late Summer 1892
 The city of Detroit loomed large and industrial and dotted with lights as dusk fell on a hot summer afternoon. The city’s downtown streets were jammed with horses, buggies, and street cars. Pedestrians in fine clothing were out for a refreshing stroll as the evening breeze replaced the sullen humidity of day. Shop windows were brightly lit and stuffed full of goods. Above the windows were endless competing signs and billboards, some twinkling with myriad little metallic disks, others with flashing colored lights. Theater marquees shone brightly. Ticket booths stayed busy as men and women lined up to buy seats.
An attractive young couple hurried along, dressed in their finest. They held hands and half ran, half walked toward a performance of Denman Thompson’s popular comedy, The Old Homestead. The girl was Elizabeth ‘Lizzie’ Wyllie, aged 24, and she loved theater. Her eyes were bright with excitement. Her smile was dazzling as she looked up at her companion with love, and held hands with him. Lizzie was a beautiful young woman, always elegant in her manner and dress, and people turned their heads to look after her. Her lover was John Longfield, a good-looking tall dark-haired man with a rakish twinkle in his eye, dimpled cheeks, and a card-player’s deceptive grin under a pencil mustache. He said to her “Come on, Lizzie, we’ll go in the side entrance. I got tickets from my friend Steve.”
Lizzie loved him and his take-charge manner. John seemed to know his way around people and situations, whereas she was—to begin with—near sighted, and on top of that not terribly good at reading people or understanding how to finagle things the way John always did. What would not be apparent to the casual eye, either, was that she was a single girl and he was a married man. In fact, he was her foreman at a large Detroit bookbindery. It wasn’t clear to her whether his wife knew what he did, and she could never get him to quite spell things out about that or about their relationship. They had fallen into a mad, passionate sexual love affair a few months ago—Spring 1892—and had begun to attract attention in the work place. Lizzie’s sister May, the sensible sibling, also worked there and kept telling Lizzie to be prudent and to be discreet. As far as Lizzie was concerned, she had been lonely and unhappy for some time, and she hoped…well, she knew it would be a bad thing to wish that he’d leave his wife and children for her. She’d never met the wife, but sort of pictured her as a dumpy workhorse who was afraid to stand in his way for fear of losing him and the household income. In this world, a woman alone, with children, abandoned by her husband, was at best an object of pity—what had she done to drive him away? What was wrong with her? At worst, one might speculate that perhaps she had been caught in some indecent situation and he had, in his justifiable outrage, moved away to maintain his honor and integrity in the eyes of society. Then again, plenty of people were practical and realistic, and realized that men were like the wolf or any other opportunistic predator, so the woman should not always be blamed. Lizzie was willing to settle for being his mistress, if only he would set her up in a little place of her own so she wouldn’t have to live with her loving but impossibly domineering mother any longer, and share a bedroom with her loving but strong-willed sister May. All these thoughts, and the dark blot of bad memories about her previous misadventure in sex, formed a blurred and fleeting background to her sense of pleasure as she ran along the sidewalk with John. Steve could have been John’s twin, complete with mustache and rakish grin, as he opened a side door and let them in. John handed him something—money, Lizzie thought—and Steve solicitously escorted them through a door, to a winding little stairwell that led up to good seats in the mezzanine.
For the next few hours, Lizzie laughed and clapped delightedly, while John kept his arm around her and absently fondled her in the dark. Sometimes, she responded by touching him. It excited her that he seemed to always be erect around her, and that made her feel hot inside. She had learned that if she let him go too far, or too long, or if she responded too ardently in these public situations, then he would lose some of that cool veneer and become too heated. That in turn might attract attention from others in the seats around them, and that would mortify Lizzie—because she was by nature always lady-like, demure, and cool. It wasn’t that she was putting on an act. She was just naturally dignified like that, and people often thought she was wealthy. She had long ago accepted who she was—a myopic, beautiful factory girl with champagne tastes and a beer pocket book, as one of her old beaux used to say. She had always assumed one day a boy with some style and money would take a fancy to her, and she’d live in a big house with servants. In the meantime, she was quite content to go out with May now and then for a beer at the German gardens, or a walk in the Campus Martius with John. She knew nobody would approve of her relationship with her foreman, so she had kept the affair a secret. If the women at work were beginning to notice, well, so what? As long as she and John were discreet, nobody would get hurt or embarrassed. Her happy, cozy affair could play out in its own little world.
Lizzie had seen this production a dozen times, and knew its main acts by heart. The piece was a record-breaking success around the country—the story of a New England rustic who leaves his village for the big city, has many misadventures, and is only too happy to return to his simple life. The play plucked nerve strings around the nation, but Lizzie especially appreciated its sentimentality. And she had a rare eye for fine costume.
John arranged for her to meet one of the stars at a reception in the lobby afterward. About a hundred men and women crowded around for punch and snacks. The noise seemed deafening and overwhelming to Lizzie, who still felt tender with the story’s magic. Actors and actresses, still in stage costume, mingled with guests. John said: “Lizzie, over here, quick, I want you to meet someone.” John led a spellbound Lizzie toward Steve, who stood waiting beside a splendid actress in beautiful white gown and large silvery wig. She did not seem entirely comfortable. Steve said: “Oh, hello John—Lizzie—please meet Miss Lilly.”
Lizzie said “The famous actress!” and Miss Lilly brightened.
John said to Miss Lilly: “My lady friend and I have been dying to speak with you. We enjoy your performances so much—we’ve seen you three times so far.”
Miss Lilly said: “Why thank you. That’s so nice to hear. What a beautiful young lady!”
Lizzie said: “Thank you! Your dress is absolutely fabulous. You must have a great designer and tailor to do such fine work.”
Miss Lilly said: “I do, my dear. You’re not only a theater fan, but a connoisseuse of fine dress. Are you an actress also?”
Lizzie said: “No, hardly. I have wicked stage fright, and can never remember any lines. I was thrown out of my second grade school play because I couldn’t remember some dumb lines about a rabbit.” Miss Lilly’s dazzling features grew confused—Lizzie was not the person she’d been told she would be seeing.
John, aside, asked Steve: “Can you get me the tickets I asked about?”
Steve said: “We’ll see what I can do about those tickets. Will you be stopping by the office anytime soon? I’ll be waiting for you.”
John said: “You’ll see plenty of me.”
Miss Lilly said: “I see my manager over there. I must leave you. It was such a pleasure to chat with you all. Bye!”
On the way home, John and Lizzie ambled happily under the gas lamps on the street. Both lived in central Detroit. He would put her on a streetcar, and then take a different car to his home about a mile away. “I have a present for you.”
“What is it?” They stopped under a street light. He held out a little box. She opened it and gasped. On a bed of cotton lay two pretty silver earrings. “John, these are beautiful.” She kissed him on the lips, briefly and excitedly, before returning her wide-eyed and open mouthed attention to the earrings. “I’ll have to get my ears pierced finally.”
He held one up, and she obliged by turning her head to one side with a happy look. “They will look gorgeous on you.”
“Thank you so much!” Lizzie said. She put the box in her purse, and they continued walking arm in arm. “What a thrilling evening.”
John said: “One of these days, darling, you’ll win the lottery or I’ll hit it big at cards, and we’ll have a nest egg.”
Lizzie clung to him. “That’s a lovely dream, John. I love when you take me to the theater, and to such splendid parties.”
John said: “You are a lady of class, sweetheart. I am proud to be seen with you. “
Lizzie beamed and said: “Until the dream comes true, I just want to take things a moment at a time, savor the good, and put up with our poor, everyday lives as we are.” She put her hand against his heart and gave him a dazzling smile. “One day, we’ll belong just to each other, won’t we?”
John put his hand over hers, holding it to his heart, and regarded her with unknown calculations in his eyes, saying nothing.
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