Big Bosses: A Working Girl's Memoir of Jazz Age America
242
Big Bosses: A Working Girl's Memoir of Jazz Age America
242eBook
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Overview
In her memoir, Big Bosses, Althea Altemus vividly recounts her life as a secretary for prominent—but thinly disguised—employers in Chicago, Miami, and New York during the late teens and 1920s. Alongside her, we rub elbows with movie stars, artists, and high-profile businessmen, and experience lavish estate parties that routinely defied the laws of Prohibition.
Beginning with her employment as a private secretary to James Deering of International Harvester, whom she describes as “probably the world’s oldest and wealthiest bachelor playboy,” Altemus tells us much about high society during the time, taking us inside Deering’s glamorous Miami estate, Vizcaya, an Italianate mansion worthy of Gatsby himself. Later, we meet her other notable employers, including Samuel Insull, president of Chicago Edison; New York banker S. W. Straus; and real estate developer Fred F. French. Altemus was also a struggling single mother, a fact she had to keep secret from her employers, and she reveals the difficulties of being a working woman at the time through glimpses into women’s apartments, their friendships, and the dangers—sexual and otherwise—that she and others faced. Throughout, Altemus entertains with a tart and self-aware voice that combines the knowledge of an insider with the wit and clarity of someone on the fringe.
“Big Bosses stands as a real contribution to our understanding of the history of working women in Jazz Age America.” —The Wall Street Journal
“Remarkable . . . Altemus recounts the wildest indiscretions of her employers between 1918 and 1925.” —Booklist
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780226423760 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | University of Chicago Press |
| Publication date: | 03/04/2020 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 242 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Big Bosses
A Working Girl's Memoir of Jazz Age America
By Althea McDowell Altemus, Robin F. Bachin
The University of Chicago Press
Copyright © 2016 The University of ChicagoAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-226-42376-0
CHAPTER 1
WEALTH
Neither beautiful nor dumb I had received my first assignment as private secretary to probably the world's oldest and wealthiest bachelor playboy.
With the mature judgment of twenty lovely summers and fewer winters, fortune had come my way following three years of the now elapsed matrimony which bequeathed unto me a tiny liability of the stronger sex. It was 1922, America had been at war, money was tight, work was scarce, and years loomed ahead in which to furnish the wherewithall for cute little Tidbits.
I wasn't hard to look at, i.e. if you didn't look too hard, and here was opportunity as secretary to the Ex-President of Teaser and Reaper, Inc.
Now this big boss had retired from active work and although his past was rumored as a panorama of living dramas, comedies and what-have-you, nevertheless he had decided to gracefully and quietly drift into the decrepit years, peacefully alone in a seven million dollar villa not far from Palm Beach, with only a couple hundred servants, three yachts, four cruisers and a few other necessities of modern comfort.
First I must tell you that he was a Beau Brummell of three score and ten, tall and distinguished, always perfectly groomed and a patron of art and French classics. In fact he adored anything and everything French.
His salon was Louis XIVth, his bedchamber Louis XVth, his bath an embroidered tent ala Louis XVIth, and his sleeping couch a copy of Napoleon's from the Petit Trianon.
To describe his villa, Eden, would only bore you with its voluminous detail. Enough to say that the greatest talent and genius of the day had been commissioned to bring to reality on the beautiful shores of Biscayne Bay the atmosphere of old world culture and art. It had taken five years to build this estate and though occupied was still incomplete.
My duties started at 10 A.M.
Beau, we'll call him for short, was very prompt in all things, and after a plunge in the marble and gold pool - in his embroidered tent - and a hearty breakfast of calomel and seltzer, was always on the job promptly at ten.
Five minutes were alloted to sort the mail - five groups in all - business, social, love, foreign and miscellaneous.
Most important were the dear messages of love and passion. This group was always a delight to me with its dainty envelopes of violet and jade, lovely pastel yellows, shell pinks, baby blues, now and then a grey and always a white. Delicate lilac to sensuous scents of the Orient wafted from this group.
Only the lonely white missive seemed to be in a world apart, as Beau always picked up this precious document first. It did not take me long to know that this white message, with its strange scrawl, was not for even a secretary's eye to gaze upon. My youthful training warned me that curiosity killed the cat but I wondered what made the cat curious and intended to find out. One day I peeked over Beau's shoulder and there was that adorable phrase on the white note "With all my love, Nan". That little white envelope arrived every morning for several years and was never answered in my presence - it found a resting place in an inside pocket of Beau's beautifully embroidered waistcoat.
With love letters out of the way, and calomel in the way, Beau would rush into his embroidered tent, thus giving me time to enjoy the dear little picture postals just in from Paris.
Next came the daily requests for money, arriving all the way from the far east to the golden west, and varied in sums from ten to a hundred dollars. These were sent by colored preachers, misunderstood wives, students, doll-babies in need of operations, cripples, the aged and infirm, schoolmarms, nurses, waitresses and any others you can think of. These letters we answered with a "nay" except the colored pastors, they always received a check.
The higher requests for loans of five hundred to a hundred thousand arrived mostly from France, the elite and the theatrical contingent of our country; huge amounts were necessary to finance coming out parties of debs, whose parents had probably met Beau somewhere and inasmuch as he was a bachelor they thought he would be delighted to furnish the funds for such a worthy cause. Even a former Director of Teaser and Reaper, Inc. needed one hundred grand and got it.
Invitations came in for third inspection. These were easy inasmuch as Beau had experienced and tired of all the thrills of modern society. The slim and stupid debutante failed to register, dyed in the wool phrases of the fat and forty madame were lost completely, and the repartee and allure of the charmer were just so much time wasted.
We had stock regrets always on file and for the soirees of the Palm Beach group we sent replies of ten words - no more no less - "So sorry, but I have lost the effervescence of youth" - a plausible excuse, n'cest pas?
By this time it was most necessary that Beau make another dash for his Luis XVIth, after which the valet would serve several little nips of Chapin & Gore and then we were ready to take up the business of the day.
Appointments with House Manager, Captains, Architects and Artists, Lawyers, Professors, Organists, Golf Pros and others, at fifteen minute intervals kept us busy until luncheon.
Our House Manager, according to her opinion was the only remaining descendant of the Mayflower, and any other pretenders should immediately be exterminated. Her Englishlike abhorrence of any tendency to earn one's living must have caused her real pain when obliged to spend a few minutes daily at the arduous task of O.K.'ing a few bills.
To her the entire place and contents were bourgeois and really to speak to this lofty dowager was a favor one could not forget. She came, she saw, but she didn't conquer because her reports were firstly nonplus, secondly non-legible and thirdly only once-in-a-while. She didn't make good with Beau and we were all happy to have her depart for wherever she came from.
Architects and artists were still engaged putting the final touches to this gorgeous Eden. They came from everywhere - some appeared in Fiats with Chow dogs, blue denim pants and apricot sashes - others with great flopping Panamas and goatees came in Fords or on bicycles. All had work to do at this unfinished Paradise. One very ladylike old dear lived in a houseboat which he called the Blue Pup - with his boy friend and Chows. Beau's sheckles financed for two years these dear boys during their sojourn to bring aesthetics to our country seat. And if you don't think the parties given on the Blue Pup were unique, ask the actress I am sketching herewith, for believe me she knows.
* * *
Now Beau thought Eden wouldn't be complete without at least one decoration by the great and famous "Who's Looney Now", so along came this monstrous goof and enjoyed himself immensely for a couple of months.
If he didn't happen to be rhapsodizing with four or five native beauties he had sent over from Cuba, he could usually be found up in the towers sleeping with the peacocks he would inveigle up the winding stairway.
Beau asked Bob one day about his ten day marriage with the gorgeous Lina, and Husky replied "It cost me a million but it was worth it".
* * *
Just about this time we had an uninvited actress visitor from New York. She was a lovely blonde with a peaches and cream complexion and a slight lisp. She announced herself - Mary Davis.
Mary arrived sans baggage and thought it would be nice to spend sometime in this Eden. She told the butler she had just left Palm Beach where she received a ten thousand dollar diamond ring and he told her he hoped her present visit would be equally profitable.
Beau didn't know why she was with us but said it likely that she had had a tiff with her boy friend, a big publisher whose name was something like William Bamdolf First, and wanted to make him jealous.
We put Mary in the Chinese room and the housekeeper gave her the very nicest nightie in her hope chest. Beautiful Mary hung around a couple of days and apparently had no intention of departing so we arranged a little cruise on one of the yachts, named from a drug supposed by the ancient Greeks to have the power of causing forgetfulness of sorrow, and on this cruise went Mary.
She probably thought Beau was going too, but he was very busy and couldn't get away.
The Captain had been instructed to delay return for several days but they came back soon and Mary left, still sans baggage and sans jewels, and our housekeeper burned up the once lovely nightie cherished for so long in its treasure box.
A short time later a beautiful present arrived from New York, for Beau from Mary, so to be gallant - though truly disgusted - he asked me to wire Tiffanys to forward appropriate gift to her without delay.
We never had the pleasure of seeing Mary in person again, but I guess she is all right because I see her in the movies now and then, and unless the jewels she wears are paste she has plenty of diamonds now.
* * *
Beau knew there should be a life size portrait of himself for posterity - oh no, not his; but yes, someone's.
At this time John Sargent, the great portrait painter, was in America on a pleasure jaunt, and he came down to make us a visit.
Beau was delighted when the eminent one expressed the wish to do a likeness of his classic profile, and for a setting Sargent chose the patio with its airy luxury - an inspiring picture of massive columns, stone balconies, tropic plants and Spanish tile flooring.
The easel was placed close to the gorgeous macaws, those glorious birds who perched day after day, uncaged, on standards of gold, and challenged the beauty of all man-made creations in this earthly Paradise.
For a long time Sargent worked on this portrait and it was intended to be cherished through the generations. When completed it was to be placed on the secret door of the guest room (Nans) adjoining Beau's Louis XVth.
On entering one morning I saw the completed canvas in our office salon.
Beau said "Well, how do you like it?"
After quite some reflection and hesitation as to expressing just what was on my mind, I replied:
"I don't like it - you look too stern".
Beau shrugged his shoulders, grinned and said:
"Huh, it's no good, guess I'll give it to my brother to place among his Zorns, Whistlers, Childe Hassams and others. Sargent painted brother, too, and he don't like his so we'll make a fair exchange and be satisfied".
I never saw either portrait again.
Our next distinguished luncheon guest was another great actress, Madame Detrova.
I guess she would be very interesting if you could see her face to face, but all during her visit she talked through a heavy veil. Beau said she had skin trouble, I don't know.
We had luncheon in the breakfast room, and the great lady did then manage to lift the transparent face covering now and then in order to partake of bits of quail, an olive, and to sip Sparkling Burgundy.
This breakfast room was a small cozy place with a lovely marble, nude lady, fountain in the corner.
You see, Beau had a sense of humor, and when entertaining the ladies he would have the fountain turned on, so that the constant dripping of water would remind his guests of other things.
Anyway, disgusted Detrova, left the table three times and Beau felt the luncheon was a huge success.
* * *
My illusions of the heavenly beauty of movie actresses were shattered forever when Connie Tolmege appeared on the scene and requested the privilege of making a few close-ups on the property.
For years she had been my screen ideal and I had worshiped her as a Goddess; never a picture but that I was first on the scene to again idolize at her shrine.
Beau had granted permission for her Company to take pictures on the terraces and in the gardens, but by no means in the house.
It was with a great deal of trepidation I strolled down the lovely cascaded path toward the main entrance to the villa to meet my dream girl, and here is what shattered the dream I knew.
Men were at work arranging cameras and placing tables and chairs. As I drew nearer there was an old weather beaten Ford in the driveway circle.
In the rear seat of this touring car reclined a girl and a boy - so it appeared - both with feet on top of the front seat and heads on the top of the back seat.
Both were smoking and appeared half dead. The girl, Connie, was very thin and her coarse straw colored hair and unsightly skin were not pleasant to look upon. The youth, Kenneth Marlin, was a fadeout also, at least so far as I was concerned.
How the screen can flatter - its no wonder screen stars make so few personal appearances.
Connie asked if I would care to sip tea at one of the tables and be atmosphere in the picture. Of course I was thrilled to death and months later, when the picture was released, I sat through the film three times to get a flash of my white tam-o-shanter.
In the Company was Flora Finch, the tall, angular comedian we all used to enjoy and love so much. She had her daughter with her and she was a dear. Why doesn't Flora make a come-back as Marie Dressler has done; she's equally funny and surely another John Bunny could be found and such a duo would certainly put Marie and Polly, Laurel and Hardy, and all the other funnies to greater effort.
Of all the celebreties of stage and screen, to whom it was my privilege to show the treasures in this mansion of Beau's, Flora Finch was the only one who sensed appreciation of the beautiful without asking its price.
* * *
Beau lived in this villa six months of each year - December through May then to Gold Coast in June; Rue de la Paix, July to October; Fifth Avenue in November.
After the holidays were over and we were not quite so busy he would usually begin to think about his annual party; to attend one of which was an event of a lifetime.
Now to be invited to one of these gala events it was essential to be a WHO - a relative, friend, mistress, gigolo, daughter or son of a WHO.
These parties usually lasted a week or two, and fifty house guests, with almost as many visiting maid and valets, took up all available space.
A party would start on Wednesday, when private cars would arrive from all points north and then be sidetracked on Beau's tracks for about ten days. Some nearby guests would arrive by auto, or plane, but mostly they came by rail or yacht.
On Thursday or Friday everyone would feel at home - by Saturday or Sunday they had forgotten they had a home - and the next Wednesday or Thursday they were coming back into their right minds and began to think about going home.
Beau was a splendid host; he believed that a weeks gayety should permit everyone to completely forget all trouble and care and that the proper way to start such a frame of mind was to become conveniently tight.
Although prohibition was the evil then, as it is still, Beau had had the foresight to take care of this problem. When the estate was designed, previous to the Volstead act, he knew it wouldn't be long before America would be as dry as Carrie Nation, so he had a casino - about the size of an average home - built on the property.
This elaborate casino was high up on a mound, but the artificial mound had secret chambers below, and in this underground hideaway was a five hundred thousand dollar shipment of rare brandies, wines, liquors and cordials, all labeled and stored away in rows upon rows - enough firewater to last Beau and his guests for the remainder of their lives.
All these beautiful bottles came to Eden at one time; a boat chartered in New York meeting the consignment from France, and then the entire lot sailing south for its secret resting place.
Before the guests had arrived at least a weeks supply of beverages had been transferred from the Casino to the guest rooms and as Beau's friends and acquaintenances were not good at resisting anything the varied colored cocktail glasses on the silver salvers were not turned upside down.
If a guest had his wife with him in one part of the mansion, and his girl friend in another, the chances of the two ladies contacting were slim, as the only time all fifty guests were in one place at the same time was the formal dinner at nine - by which hour both ladies in question would be in splendid spirits and not worried over affairs ala coeur.
These late dinners were served in the formal dining room on floor one. The service was solid gold and a practical thought that was - had glass been the mode it would have been a continual replacement expense.
During the dinner a special orchestra would render concert music from the magnificent stone boat just outside the patio.
The guests would sometimes wear the corsages of orchids and boutonnieres of gardenia, sent to their rooms daily from Beau's greenhouses, but usually only a few of the older ladies and gentlemen so adorned themselves.
The French and Italian chefs spared neither time nor expense to give these WHO WHOSES the choicest morsels the world has to offer.
When dinner was over the movie started.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Big Bosses by Althea McDowell Altemus, Robin F. Bachin. Copyright © 2016 The University of Chicago. Excerpted by permission of The University of Chicago Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
ForewordBy Joel M. Hoffman
Sample Pages from Althea Altemus’s Original Manuscript
A Note on the Transcription
Big Bosses
Afterword
By Robin F. Bachin
Acknowledgments
Notes