LOUSTAU/The Complicity of Edward DooleyCh. 1 - page1
THE COMPLICITY OF EDWARD DOOLEY
Chapter 1
To some, the world seemed reborn that spring evening, a gentle sea breeze mingled with the smell of jasmine filling the air with a sense of anticipation. From trolleys, touring cars, and horse-drawn carriages, guests alighted at the Lombard Gate to the sounds of a stirring military tune in the distance. Ladies in diaphanous gowns were borne along on the arms of men, a courtly procession on gravel paths lit by Japanese lanterns, culminating in a rose garden forecourt to the Parthenon, as re-imagined in Columbia River Basin timber. White-gloved Marines stood at attention before the backlit colonnade, red, white, and blue bunting ran along the entablature, and a banner below the pediment read “Welcome Home Boys!”
“Oh, Edward,” Constance exclaimed, “it’s magnificent!”
“Grand,” he replied, with a tinge of resentment. Originally built for the Panama-Pacific Exposition four years before and known as the Oregon Pavilion, the site had been appropriated by the Presidio when America got into the Great War. “I could see it from my barracks,” Edwardrecalled now, “—hovering out there in the fog, just like the dreams I once had of a college education…”
“Oh, come now, don’t be glum,” Constancesaid, patting his arm. Aware of the toll the war had taken on him – the lines on his face, his thinning hair, the leathery feel of his hands – Constance hoped this magical evening would lift him out of his funk. She so loved a party –she sported a new dress and bonnet for the occasion – and as they passed the Marine band she looked up at him and said reassuringly, ““Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight, shall we, Edward? Let’s celebrate that it’s all over, and that your home safe and sound…”
In fact, Edward Dooley regarded this evening with a mixture of relief and dread. After two and a half weeks of tearful reunions with family, friends, and co-workers, a parade down Market Street and proclamations of gratitude from all quarters, here he was, arm-in-arm with his sweetheart, coming upon a Victory Ball like something out of a fairy tale. And yet he knew that things would never be the same. While Constance reveled in the pageantry as they made their way through the rose garden, Edward noted the trampled edges of the flowerbeds, relieved that he’dbe putting away his uniform for good after tonight.
“Events like this don’t come along very often, Edward,” Constance was saying as they climbed the steps that formed the base of the pavilion, “and you deserve to be honored…” At the top landing, they side-stepped the line of people entering the hall and took up a spot beside a column to look out for his parents who were due along shortly. Holding her clutch in her gloved hands, Constance nudged Edward with her elbow when she caught sight of a group of civilians at the great doors nodding deferentially to them. “See how grateful everyone is for your service!” she whispered, returning a happy wave. “You’re a hero!”
Edward managed a half-hearted smile. It bothered him to be thought of as a hero when all he’d done was manage to survive. From the window of the ferry on the last leg of his journey home, his eyes had been drawn to the roiling waters of the bay. Delivered from the hellish trenches the previous autumn and told he could pick up his life where he’d left off, he was wary when they pulled up to the docks that April afternoon. He wore skepticism like a hair-shirt now, and with resignation in his voice, said, “Sometimes it’s hard to see how what we did over there makes any difference here…”
Constancebristled. “Really, Edward,” she said now in an urgent murmur, looking down, “you drive me positively crazy sometimes! All I hear is how tired and blue you are, how so much has happened, how it’s all too much to cope with. Do I have to remind you again of what we’ve had to copewith here? The sacrifices we made?” Looking up at him,her voice quavering, she went on, “Have you listened to anything I’ve told you? How desperate we were for new from you? The influenza epidemic? Poor Missy O’Conner and the Ferguson twins?” She caught herself, anxious not to cause a scene, and looking out to the rose garden, said, “I’m sure it was awful overseas, Edward – I truly can’t imagine – but this is no time to be wallowing in grief. You’re here to be honored – you helped win the peace, after all…”
“’The peace,’” he repeated, looking out for his parents. “It was a cessation of hostilities, actually – not sure it really settled anything…” He ignored the glare Constanceshot him – it irked him, the gulf between what he’d experienced overseas and what people at home wanted to believe – but realizing that he was being stubborn, he said, eyes averted, “Look, Constance,I’m sorry if I not able to put it all behind me quite yet. I know I ought to be thankful that I’ve come home unscathed, but to be honest, I feel sort of guilty. I know it sounds strange, but I’ve seen men suffer and die, you know. Men I’d gotten to know – here one minute, blown to bits the next.” His voice trailing off, he added, “No homecoming ball for them…”
“God’s will is beyond our understanding, Edward,” Constance offered evenly. “We must have faith in His wisdom and honor those who have died so that we might live…”
He paused, leery of platitudes, then touching her arm, he spoke in earnest. “It’s all happening too fast, though, can’t you see? There’s been no time for reflection, to pause a moment and take stock…Thisspectacle,” he said, with a wave of his arm, “it’s like pretending nothing bad happened…a kind of amnesia that’s setting in…”
“My, listen to you! Amnesia!” she muttered, greatly agitated now. Over some laughter that had bubbled up in the line of couples waiting to get in, she leaned into him, and said in full voice, “You’re not thinking straight, Edward. Your parents will be along any minute now and you don’t want to disappoint them…And I hope you won’t disappoint me!”
He sighed, and after a moment, said, “Listen, Con, I just don’t think I’m feeling up to this after all. I’m sorry, but my knee hurts, my stomach’s upset…” He shook his head, adding, “Morgan’s waiting inside – I’m sure your brother will be much better company this evening…”
Constance looked up, her eyes welling with tears. “Why can’t you just be happy, Edward?” she implored. “Why can’t you stop your brooding and give me the satisfaction of knowing that you want to be with me. You’re home, we’re together again!” Fumbling for the kerchief in her clutch to dab her eyes, Edward bowed his head and pursed his lips apologetically. When she’d composed herself, she turned to the great doors, saying. “Now be a gentleman, take my arm, and let’s go inside. Your parents will just have to find us somehow…”
The mood in the hall was boisterous, the music of a renowned minstrel band nearly drowned out by shouted conversations and laughter. Society ladies in heavy silk gowns and dowagers in somber wool suits lingered at the coat check, passing judgment on the young women gathered like flocks of exotic birds at the edge of the dance floor. Patriotic deprivations were a distant memory for them now, so eager were they to preview the latest summer chic.Amidst all the stylish hats and slim-line chiffon frocks, Constance was pleased to debut an indigo Georgette crepe with a light blue taffeta sash and matching bonnet. Such festive colors were offset by a backdrop of military men in olive drab uniforms as well as business leaders and public officials in black tie. Smoke from their cigars and cigarettesrose with the laughter,above the bunting, balloons, and crystal chandeliers, wrapping the golden eagle atop the proscenium arch in a regal cloak.
Edward was unfamiliar with most of the other soldiers in attendance. Many of the men of his regiment, the 362nd, had already been returned to their hometowns throughout the Pacific Northwest. Whenever he did happen to encounter someone he recognizedin the course of the evening,it would be cause for outsized affection.
For all the lively music coming from the stage, it was understood that the evening would not get underway until after the opening address. Skirting the commotion at the edge of the dance floor, Edward and Constance made their way to the hospitality station at the north end of the hall where they were relieved to link up with her brother as planned.
“It’s a miracle we could find each other in this bedlam!” Morgan shouted as he shook Edward’s hand and kissed his sister on the cheek.
“I had no idea it would be such a big deal,” Edward yelled back. “I doubt the boys of the San Francisco corps have ever been assembled in one room before!”
Plucking two glasses of punch from the bar and handing them to Edward, Morgan said with a wink, “These are the ones who made it back…”
Edward had been a classmate of Morgan Doherty’sat Sacred Heart, the Christian Brothers high school where the aspiring merchant class of Irish ancestry sent their sons.Though slight of stature, Morgan was quick-witted and had takento Edward for what he misread as aloofness.Edward was actuallyrather shy, but being tall for his age, and with two older brothers, he’d earned a pass with the school bullies. Despite the difference in their stations – Morgan’s father owned a plumbing supply company while Edward’s was in the sheet metal trade – the boys hit it off immediately, and spent their free time together climbing the hills of San Francisco discussing their favorite books, or taking the streetcar downtown to see a picture show and stroll through the lobbies of the city’s opulent hotels.
Edward came to know Constance, four years Morgan’s junior and then under the tutelage of the nuns at Convent of the Blessed Sacrament, by spending many happy afternoons at the Doherty’s genteel home high on Dolores Street. She’d join the boys on outings to Woodward’s Gardens, Golden Gate Park, and Sutro Baths, always lively and eager to laugh – amarked contrast to Edward’s four siblings. When Edward had to quit high school to become the family breadwinner, Morgan was determined not to let their friendship founder, and Constance looked up to Edward all the moreas he seemed so smart and purposeful in business attire.The three were inseparable at the Panama-Pacific Exposition of 1915, and would end each day sitting by the fountain in the Court of the Universe, where Morgan, who had just started college, would ignore their snickering while quoting poetry pretentiously.
Now reunited, the trio took in the splendor of the Victory Ball. There was Constance, pretty and petite, her light blue bonnet nicely complementing her alabaster complexion and the red tint of her hair. There was Morgan looking sharp in his campaign hat and serge tunic – he’d been promoted to captain at the end of the war – his eyes crinkled in devilish delight as he blew a stream of cigarette smoke to the rafters. And there was Edward, standing just over six feet tall, skinny, with blue eyes and handsome features, a receding hairline hidden by his overseas cap, tipped to the right. It was a scene he would run over in his mind years later, recalling how golden moments can play tricks on you.
“Look – there’s Mayor Rolph!” Constance called out as a spotlight streaked across the dance floor and caught up to a dapper man in a top hat making his way to the stage. The musicians lurched abruptly from a ragtime tune to a military drum roll,and the Presidio Commandant, an officious, bespectacled man,triedunsuccessfully to call the crowd to order before brusquely relinquishing the podium.
Smiling broadly, the mayor repeated the words “ladies and gentlemen” several times until a measure of decorum descended over the gathering. “It is my honor and distinct privilege to stand here before you this evening,” he intoned dramatically, “…on behalf of this great city, the Queen of the Pacific that just thirteen years ago was nearly vanquished by earthquake and fire…and recognize America’s ascendance in world affairs bywelcoming home our heroic sons of San Francisco – and I promise to be brief…”
The crowd erupted in delirious cheers and as the Mayor bowed politely to the military brass assembled on stage to his right, Morgan quipped, “I don’t recall Sunny Jim ever being brief.” Constance giggled while Edward surveyed the crowd, looking out for his parents.
Mayor Rolph held his right hand aloft until the cheering subsided, then in his melodious baritone declared, “We bade you valiant men in uniform bon voyage when you set off for France…as part of a vast army of deliverancewhose deeds in the face of a relentless foe…turnedthe tide of battle…making as certain as fate,”he brought his fist down to the podium for emphasis, “the overwhelming victory won by Allied arms!”
A great roar rose up and shouts of “Hear! Hear!” echoed in the rafters as the Mayorwaved majestically to the crowd, before beckoning the army chaplain to the podium. After invoking God’s blessing, the man joinedthe Mayor and the Commandant turning to the gigantic American Flag that formed a backdrop to the stage to leadthe crowd in the Pledge of Allegiance. But with their backs to the audiencethe effortfaltered, and to keep the ceremony from unravelingaltogether, the Mayorhastily returned to the podiumto present the Commandant with a proclamation from the city’s Board of Supervisors. Much of the exchange was drowned out by the chatter that began filling the hall, however, just as Edward spotted his mother, tall and imperious with a shock of white hair, coming through the crowd with his father in tow.
“We can only hope things were more orderly overseas,” Honora said drylyby way of greeting her son. She wore a grey wool suit with a high-waisted skirt, a cameo brooch on her white batiste blouse, and a black bonnet with a spray of heavy silk flowers better suited to a funeral. Edward’s father, James, red-faced and stooped, wore his Sunday best and took his son’s handin both of his while mouthing his hellos to the Dohertys.
Alert to the pent-up enthusiasm in the hall, the Mayor declared the Victory Ball officially underway, whereupon the band launched into a raucous rendition of the “12th Street Rag.” Withhundreds of giddy young couples spilling onto the dance floor, Constance handed her bonnet to Morganand excitedly dragged Edward into the throng, where despite his bum kneehe did his best to get in step with the music.
“Given the occasion, you think she could muster a happier disposition,” Edward said over the din, looking back to his mother. Morgan was gallantly attending to Edward’s parents, whose reaction to the rambunctious scene was a study in contrast – Honora appeared to disapprove, as she was wont to do in large settings where she couldn’t dominate the atmosphere, while James seemed to have slipped her spell and looked positively jovial.
“Your parents must be so proud of you, Edward,” Constance responded, “—the only one of their sons to ship off to the crusades.”
He considered euphemisms like ‘crusades’ and ‘noble cause’ ameans of pre-empting any mention of the horrors experienced overseas, but let the remark pass. Guiding Constance deeper into the crowd, he said, “Too bad they didn’t come tonight…Colm didn’t want to give the 30th Regiment the satisfaction, and as for Walter, he thinks that having been stationed here, the party isn’t meant for him…Anyhow,” he continued, drawing Constance close, “it’s hard to tell whether she’s proud of me or simply gladI’ll be gainfully employed again as of next week…”
Her cheek against his chest, Constance said, “She’ll just have to accept that things are changing, Edward,and your brothers will have to start carrying their fair share of the load for a change.” They danced in silence a minute before she added curtly, “We have our own future to consider, after all…”
Edward said nothing as the tune came to an end and they segued to a slower number. That his relationship with Constance had begun in friendship was important to him. From the start, they enjoyed a good-natured rivalry in board games and tennis, and whenever they went to a Chaplin picture they’d place nickel bets to see who could maintain a straight face longer. Constance considered Edward very knowledgeable and he liked to make her laugh by comically reciting from Gibbons’ History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, which was prominently displayed in the Doherty’s bookcase. As she grew older, Edward was pleased when she’d ask his opinion about something – choosing a handbag for a certain outfit, comparing a piano piece by Beethoven to one by Mozart, whether it was Austro-Hungarians or the Germans who were to blame for the war in Europe. By the time Constance started high school the two were so well paired that it was a foregone conclusion she would ask him to her winter formal.