The following letter was written that evening:
“DEAREST MISS HARDING:
I wired you this morning for $200 and hope to have the answer tomorrow
by wire. If I do not hear, I shall simply have to take very definite
steps to endeavor to establish Elizabeth Ann’s claim to some attention
from the Hardings as to their responsibility toward her. And I am
determined to do so.
Knowing how kindly you have been disposed to feel toward the whole
situation, and loving you as much as I do, I cannot help believing
you will do everything in your power to bring about the proper sense
of responsibility on the part of every one of the Hardings. However,
I have been treated so shabbily by the Votaws that I cannot afford
longer to allow sentiment to influence me.
The present regime is impossible without more help and it seems to me
I am looking to the right source for it. I want Elizabeth Ann with
me--in the winter time at least--but I cannot have her and keep up
the expenses of an apartment without outside help. She should have
an income of her own independent of anyone else, even her mother. It
is her due as Warren G. Harding’s child, and I am prepared to fight
for it for her. I have lost a great deal of my pride in coming to
you folks, and the Votaws’ attitude has shown me that they prefer
unpleasantness to a very proper acknowledgement of their--and all the
Hardings’--obligations.
Mind, it is not as though I were asking anything for my own self--I
want only that which is due Elizabeth Ann--an income which will enable
me to have her with me as much and as often as I want. If I were
alone, I can assure every one of you that I could keep myself. But in
having Elizabeth Ann with me, I must go into a great deal of extra
expense. I pay $130 a month for a very simple, furnished apartment,
in a nice neighborhood. I give my mother $25 a week to feed her and
the baby. You have taken care of her kindergarten, and you have also
sent me $65 for her winter clothes, receipts for the purchase of which
clothing I have kept, and the amount is, I might say, in excess of the
$65, inasmuch as she had no winter clothing when she came to me, with
the exception of an old coat (which I bought her last winter) and a
couple of dresses. She needs another pair of shoes and another dress
at this very moment. She is as easy on clothes as any other child,
which means that she is normally hard on them.
In addition to the above, I have my own clothes to buy and I have to
pay my mother something. I will admit, when we started out last fall,
I included in the $25 paid mother for food the small amount paid her
as a tutor, but I found that she could not even buy her stockings on
that, and it has had to be increased. And I need not tell you of all
the other current expenses one incurs living in a New York apartment.
I give you the foregoing that you may know what I have been up
against. Last fall I had assistance from a friend of mine, but that
assistance is forthcoming no longer, for the reason that it involved
a point of honor with me and I refused to take it after the first of
the year. Therefore, I have been forced since then to go into debt in
every direction to keep going at all. I have drawn ahead of my salary
and I have borrowed. I do not feel under obligations to explain this,
but am doing so that you may know how I have tried to carry on by
myself before appealing again to the Hardings.
Two weeks or so ago I had a couple of telephone calls I could not
account for--three, to be exact--because I was out when they came,
or else when I _was_ in, the party would be gone when I answered
the phone. Then last week a man came in, in person, and asked the
telephone operator if I worked there. Upon receiving a reply in the
affirmative, when she started to ring my telephone, he hastily and
mysteriously assured her that he did not wish to disturb me at that
moment and hurried out. Of course, I have been and am so busy here,
with so many details on my mind, both of business and of my home, that
I cannot have that sort of thing occurring. The operators description
of him answered that of Mr. Votaw (or Mr. Christian), and I concluded
it must have been he. Thereupon, I wrote to ask and received a reply
which gave me a clue to Mr. Votaw’s attitude toward me. I have written
them--addressing the letter to Mr. Votaw, because I think it is he and
not Mrs. Votaw who is responsible for the Votaw attitude--and I have
not heard from them.
Now, without wasting any more time in explanations, I want to say
that I am not at all unconscious of the fact that any publicity in
connection with this would reflect upon the character and reputation
of Mr. Harding, notwithstanding the fact that I personally am not at
all ashamed of a single step I have ever taken. Nevertheless, there
are possibilities of its becoming an international scandal--and I
am sure you will agree that we none of us want that. Nor do I mean
that it shall be, except as it might creep out in my approaching Mr.
Harding’s friends for assistance which should be forthcoming from his
own family. But I am sure that some of the friends he had during his
lifetime would treat his child with more consideration than some of
his closest relatives have treated her. And I am not afraid to find
out.
I have been patient, I have been decent, I have been fair--but it
seems it doesn’t pay. It does not seem possible that Mr. Harding
could have been the brother of anyone who could fail to see his
viewpoint so impassionately. Bless him! I am afraid he would retract
a good many of the things he has said to me if he could but see how
things are going now! And maybe he does see. Sometimes I feel his
presence very strongly--and I see his smile and hear his precious
voice--and I am constrained to feel only charity for those who have
shown anything but charity toward me.
[Illustration: A spelling exercise of the President’s daughter--1927]
But that is sentiment. And even he would dispense with sentiment if
he had received such treatment as his child has--I very well remember
his face when he told me the very last time I was in the White House
that he would adopt Elizabeth Ann. I said, “Oh, but sweetheart, you
couldn’t! What would people say?” And he answered, “That’s _my_
affair, and I promise you it will be done.” But that was when he felt
Mrs. Harding would pass on--and she outlived him. Nevertheless, I was
_always_, at all times, assured of ample financial assistance for
Elizabeth Ann, and that is what I want now. And, like him, this is
_my_ affair, and it must be dealt with by me for my child.
I am very tired tonight, having had a very strenuous day. It is eight
o’clock right now and I have not eaten my dinner. It is difficult for
me to write letters and escape observing eyes, over my shoulder here
at my desk, etc., and therefore I stay after hours to write them.
Very likely you have received all of the invitations from the Club
for their various entertainments and you may have some idea of what
it means to hold a position such as this and have a constant terrific
worry about where rent and food will come from. Miss Breed was away
ill for three weeks the first part of the year, the busiest time the
Club has ever known--and I was in charge. The Dinner of the 15th and
the Supper-Dance of the 29th were both in my charge during her absence
and the work involved was so heavy that upon her return I was forced
to seek absolute quiet and rest. I went up to the Valeria Home, an
endowed home for “tired people,” and I stayed there a week. Of course
my expenses went on here just the same.
Now, in conclusion, I wish to say that I am ready to do everything in
my power to see that E. A. is fairly treated. I appreciate more than I
can tell you what you have done--and you know I am far from being one
to impose unfairly upon the Hardings. But I do know that Mr. Harding
died without having, to our knowledge thus far, left Elizabeth Ann
cared for financially. I also know very definitely that none of the
Hardings is any more entitled to a share of his consideration in this
respect than she is, and I also know that it is in the possession of
those to whom it was left. Therefore, I very respectfully, but very
firmly, ask that you get together--once more--and combine your efforts
and your funds into one whole, and that it be deposited in some bank
so that Elizabeth Ann will have a substantial sum monthly from which
her expenses may be met. I have some ideas about what would be fair
in this respect and I shall expect them to be regarded by you. I am
Elizabeth Ann’s legal guardian, also, and expect to be consulted as
such. My legal guardianship is, in point of fact, the last word so far
as directing her welfare, education, etc., is concerned, for it goes
beyond any authority her foster parents have.
I would suggest that you and Dr. Tryon Harding, together with Mrs.
Votaw, and, if possible, Mrs. Tryon Harding (who has children of her
own), get together at once, and I shall be very glad to come West to
consult with you if you so desire.
Please know that I am appreciative of everything you have done and
may do--and that I do deplore any but the friendliest feeling in this
matter--but I shall not shirk my own responsibility toward Elizabeth
Ann.
Love to you.
Most sincerely,
NAN BRITTON”
Under the same date (February 5, 1926) I wrote Tim Slade and sent him
a copy of the letter sent to Miss Harding. I have no notes to indicate
that a copy went to the Votaws, and I do not think that I sent one to
them, but I do think Miss Harding sent her original on to them.
_152_
That night I returned home late, having been at the Club writing the
lengthy letter to Miss Harding, and I found a cheering answer from
Miss Harding to my wire to her sent that morning early. She had been
away from home for two weeks and my message had reached her the very
hour of her return home. She would fulfill my request on Saturday! The
following day I received another telegram from Miss Harding in which
she stated that the money had been wired to the wrong address. Would
I call the Postal Telegraph and trace the money? It was with a sense
of relief I had not known for some time that I had the money traced
by the telegraph office, and you may imagine my joy to find she had
doubled the amount asked for by me. She had sent me $400! I wrote her
immediately. I told her I was going to pay two months’ rent, which
would be $260, and this I did, and have the cancelled voucher in my
possession. I repaid $50 to one of the officers of the Club who had
kindly advanced that amount to me, and $40 to the Club for overdrawn
salary. That totalled $350, and left $50 for minor indebtednesses.
In my letter to Miss Harding I also inquired of her whether or not she
felt I ought to write direct to Dr. Harding, her brother in Columbus.
I had not known Dr. Harding and took it for granted that Miss Harding
had informed him of the situation in hand. As for the Votaws, of them
I wrote frankly. I would not have been my natural self had I not
expressed the resentment I felt.
I also wrote the Votaws a short letter in an attempt to shame them
after I had received the $400 from Daisy Harding, and I sent them
a carbon of the letter of thanks which I had just written to Miss
Harding. Not one of these various letters I sent the Votaws ever came
back to me, so I assume they must have received them.
_153_
A letter received from Daisy Harding, written under date of February
10th, 1926, was the longest letter I had yet received from her and was
in reply to my letter of February 5th. In this letter. Miss Harding
went into detail about many things. She told me how her husband had
recently learned the facts of my story for the first time from a man in
Marion, who in turn had heard it from Tim Slade. Inasmuch as Tim had
told me that he had spoken to Mr. Hoke Donithen, a Marion lawyer, while
approaching supposedly sympathetic persons, I assumed it was he to
whom Miss Harding referred. She wrote, “I was shocked beyond measure,
because I didn’t want Ralph to know and have his faith destroyed, then
I was alarmed for fear others might know of the same thing and the
terrible damage it would do to you both in your home town....” She
further wrote that she hoped and prayed it would not go farther.
Referring to the sharp letter sent to Mr. Votaw by me in reply to his
brief note to me, Miss Harding mistakenly alludes to it as having been
sent to her sister, Mrs. Votaw, and says, “ ... I got the letter you
wrote Carolyn, and Nan, dear, I was ... horribly sad and depressed
about it all. I knew you were desperate, but you are not using the
right tactics....” She begged that I withhold the story from her other
sister, Mrs. Charity Remsberg, in California. “... I want to spare her
the shock I had when it was told to me. Furthermore, I don’t want her
faith destroyed....”
Miss Harding frequently alluded to the “faith” members of her family
would lose when they learned that their brother had been the father
of a child. Of what real depth is any faith which can be destroyed by
the mere revelation that another faith of highest quality has been
maintained between a man and a woman? Webster defines faith as “firm
belief or trust in a person....” I defy anyone to say that Warren
Harding disqualified himself to be worthy of the faith reposed in him
simply because of his fatherhood! What would diminish that faith?
Watchful solicitude for the woman he loved above any other? Loving
kindness in his material manifestations toward her and toward his
child? Loyalty to his political party and to his country? Generosity
toward his family? Who more nobly kept these faiths than Warren
Gamaliel Harding?
Daisy Harding’s letter went on: “I want you to know, no matter what
you think of either Mr. V. or the other brother, that there are no two
finer, more honorable and just men living, and because of their love,
devotion and loyalty to the one already gone, they are not going to
believe anything against him until it can be absolutely proven....”
How varied are the conceptions of love and loyalty! And who of us
has reached immunity from sin and can judge what works _against_ his
brother? Had the case been reversed, who more quickly would have come
to the moral and financial rescue of another who needed help and
mental sustaining than the very brother whose own child these two men
hesitated to recognize? According to a newspaper clipping which I have
pasted in my Harding book, President Harding’s very “hobby” was to help
the “down and out.” The clipping reads, “Mankind needs encouragement
and help. There is much suffering in the world and there is much
heart-sickness....” Truly, the recognition of how greatly charity,
forbearance, mercy, goodness, and all their kindred attributes work for
the stature of the spirit of man was exemplified with pathetic beauty
in the heart and life of Warren Gamaliel Harding.
Daisy Harding wrote me the details of the $90,000 brokerage matter she
told me about in June of 1925. Then she went on: “Now then on top of
that, your claim is put in. Do you wonder that the whole family are up
in arms against a thing that is so hard to prove?...”
“_Hard to prove?_” Why, I had kept, with her brother, _the faith_! That
very fidelity which her brother and I had shown toward each other;
that faith which had protected the Harding name; that very brand of
faith was responsible for the fact that _every love-letter, any one
of which would have irrefutably proved my story, had been destroyed_.
“But if convinced, they will be just,” she wrote. Yet the Votaws had
denied me the interview which I knew would have enabled me to advance
_sufficient_ proofs.
Poor Daisy Harding! Trying to be fair to me and just to her own family
as she understood justice! “... you still have me who never fails a
friend ... for the sake of the dear beloved, guard the secret, protect
his name and everything will come out all right....”
In spite of the fact that I disagreed with a great deal that Miss
Harding wrote, there was one paragraph which pleased me. She was
leaving the following Sunday for Florida, and on her way back she said
she was either coming to New York or have me meet her in Takoma Park,
suburban to Washington, at the Votaw residence, where “we will trash
this matter out.” That was exactly what I wished--the opportunity to
present the thing to the entire group of Hardings.
_154_
Under date of February 12th, I answered Miss Harding’s letter. I took
it paragraph by paragraph. Seeing it expressed the same fear about
exposure, which had been regarded as paramountly the most important
issue by all of them, even to apparent indifference to the issue that
was to _me_ the most important and was _always_ their brother’s _first
consideration_, I tried to calm her fears.
I said further that “I refuse to use ‘tactics’ of any kind. I am
simply frank and honest about things and cannot be diplomatic in this
respect.” I further wrote that I felt the provision I wanted for
Elizabeth Ann _was_ left in some way for her, that time might prove
this to be true; but if so, someone had intercepted it in a way which
might be almost impossible to prove. And my concluding sentence was
reminiscent of bygone days when I had had her brother to cheer and
comfort me in moments that seemed too difficult to bear.
I added a supplemental letter to this one later in the day, sending her
a couple of photographs of Elizabeth Ann and asking her to show them to
the Votaws if she went through Washington enroute South.
“The hotels are wonderful and not exorbitant,” wrote Miss Harding to
me shortly after she arrived in Miami Beach, Florida. They had taken
an apartment. Miss Harding said, “We have ... a dining alcove, a large
living-room, dressing-room and bath, all for $150 a month. Isn’t that
reasonable?...” She was quite enthusiastic over Miami. “... Perhaps
when you get to writing and want new local coloring you can come down
here and enjoy a winter in the sub-tropics....” Weary and sick at
heart, this prospect seemed pleasant, even if a bit distant.
Miss Harding had received the pictures of Elizabeth Ann and said she
thought they were good ones. “She certainly looks sturdy and strong
... the front view is all Britton, but I can’t quite tell about the
side view. The cheek and eye are similar to those of yours truly or I
imagine it....”
She requested me not to write to the Votaws again until I heard from
her; she expected, she said, to be there about the last week in March.
As usual, her letter was signed, “Lovingly yours.”
I answered this letter on March 7th. I explained that Miss Breed, whose
assistant I was at The Town Hall Club, had been ill and that that fact
had doubled my own work at the Club again. I agreed to abide by her
request not to write the Votaws. I told her Tim Slade had been in New
York the previous week and I had had luncheon with him at the Waldorf
on Thursday. I mentioned that I hoped we could have him with us at our
conference, for he could give the Votaws some strong evidence.
_155_
But my faith in Tim Slade’s sincere desire to help me had dwindled
considerably. I had written him notes, urgent ones, requesting his
help, but these notes he rarely answered. Before I approached Miss
Harding by wire for the previously mentioned $200, I had telephoned
Tim by long distance, asking him to come to my rescue. Mrs. Slade
answered and called Tim immediately to the phone. I have always felt
that Tim made a confidante of Mrs. Slade about my affairs, but this
never gave me great concern. However, when I asked Tim on the phone if
he could send me $100 to ease my situation a little, he had answered,
rather unpleasantly I thought, “Go after the people in Ohio!” Then,
when I told him I despaired of getting any further help because of the
attitude the Votaws had taken, he said, “Well, if you don’t hear from
them, let me know, and I’ll help.” But the money from Miss Harding had
made further request to him then unnecessary.
[Illustration: “The cheek and eye are similar to those of yours truly
...”--in a letter to the author from Daisy Harding]
Why, after all, should Tim continue his proffered and promised
assistance? He had no assurance that I could repay him unless he
himself were able to financially interest those to whom he had gone
with my situation. And, though he had spoken about his intended
approach to four or five of Mr. Harding’s best friends, he had never
named them to me specifically. I was sure that such men as Hoke
Donithen and Mr. Brush of the _Star_ could not be numbered among Mr.
Harding’s closest friends. To be sure, Tim had intimated that Charles
G. Dawes was _his_ “best friend” and I knew Mr. Harding had admired Mr.
Dawes, but Tim said no more about him after my first few interviews
with him, and I assumed that he had decided not to approach Mr. Dawes.
Mr. Crissinger, too, had given Tim no hope that he would have anything
to do with the matter which had so vitally concerned the man who had
put Mr. Crissinger in the position he occupied, and it looked miserably
gloomy in my opinion from the Washington end.
I myself named over various men who, I felt sure, would be interested
in helping, or in influencing the Hardings to see their obligation
to Mr. Harding’s child. Among these men were Andrew Mellon, Joseph
Frelinghuysen, Senator Newberry, Edward B. McLean, Herbert Hoover,
Charles Evans Hughes, and Harry M. Daugherty.
I related to Tim how I myself had endeavored to approach Charles E.
Hughes one day in late January, 1926, I think, when, in a fit of
despondency, I had concluded that it was useless to continue my appeal
to the Hardings and I would simply have to give my child up again. I
thought if I could see Mr. Hughes he might settle for me the question
as to whether the Hardings were morally obligated to Elizabeth Ann, and
I would accept his superior judgment as final.
I retain in this connection the memory of a visit I had with Mr.
Harding in 1917 or 1918, when he came over to New York to stay all
night with me. I met him at the Pennsylvania Station, where I always
met him when he came in on the Congressional Limited about nine
o’clock. How sweet to see him, the familiar bag in hand, the great
overcoat which I always loved, and which used to make him look even
more of a giant than he was! And how I remember his cheery, “Hullo,
dearie!” when it seemed to me I could feel myself being kissed as he
said it. And the query which invariably followed, “Glad to see me?”
as I tried to match my shorter steps to his long ones as we made
immediately for a taxi. Even now, so vividly does the sight of the
Pennsylvania Station recall these meetings to me, that I sometimes
think I shall scream with terror to realize anew that he is actually
gone, that I shall see him no more!
That night we were talking and Mr. Harding said to me, “Nan, guess with
whom I came over in the train tonight?” I couldn’t guess. “Charles
E. Hughes,” Mr. Harding said, and there was pride and respect in his
tone. It was then that he told me how he used to think if he could
ever make the nominating speech for a presidential candidate he would
have attained his highest ambition. But, he added, this wouldn’t
satisfy _Mrs._ Harding. I recalled how in 1910 it was rumored that
it had been Mrs. Harding who took her husband’s gubernatorial defeat
with rebellious feeling. And Mr. Harding was reported to have remained
calm throughout, merely averring, “Well, that is the last time I shall
ever run for anything!” This recalls also to my mind a clipping in my
Harding book, and I think the anecdote given is amusing enough to quote: