Chapter One
1909
NEW YORK
"And in conclusion, ladies...and gentlemen..." There was a
murmur of amusement in the big auditorium, for there were
very few men who attended Temperance O'Neil's lectures.
They couldn't stand to hear the truth of what Temperance
said, couldn't stand to hear and see what they had done to
the American family.
"I say that the fight must continue, that we have not yet
begun to make inroads into this problem, but we mustn't
give up. We must continue!"
At that Temperance stepped back from the podium and
dropped her head so only the wide wheel of her trademark
hat could be seen. It was an instant before the women
could get to their feet and start applauding. Looking up,
Temperance gave them a dazzling smile; then slowly and
with humility, she walked off the stage.
"You were wonderful," said Agnes Spinnaker as she put a
small hand on Temperance's shoulder. "As always."
"Let's just hope it did some good," Temperance said as she
twitched the curtain aside and looked out at the audience
again. They were still on their feet, still clapping hard.
"You have to go back out," Agnes said loudly so she could
be heard over the noise of the crowd. "You have to say
something more. Do you have anything planned?"
"Oh, I have something planned, all right," Temperance said
as she began pulling long pins from her hat. "Hold these,
will you? I don't want anyone to get hurt."
"What in the world are you going to do?"
"Watch," Temperance said as she pushed aside the curtain,
then went back onto the stage. As she stepped up on the
little box that held the podium, she waited for the
applause to die down; then when the room was quiet, she
waited another few seconds. No one sat down, but the three
hundred or so women stood in place, their hands ready to
start clapping again; for whatever Temperance said, they
were ready to applaud.
In the absolute quiet of the auditorium, Temperance looked
down at the oak lectern in front of her, as though she
were looking at notes and about to read from them.
But then, in one fast movement, she grabbed her big hat
and threw it so it sailed high above the heads of the
women, twirling, twisting, higher and higher. There wasn't
an eye in the room that wasn't on that hat, one of her
hats, one of Temperance O'Neil's hats.
The hat came down near the back row, and half a dozen
women made a leap for it. Momentarily there was a tussle,
with skirts rising above ankles, and buttoned leather
shoes waving in the air. Then there was a squeal and a
pretty young woman jumped up from the middle of the melee
and waved the hat as though it were a flag won on a
battlefield.
In the next instant the crowd went wild with excitement,
clapping, yelling, stamping feet; there were even some
whistles.
Temperance stepped down from the podium, gave a great wave
to the excited young woman in the back clutching her newly
won hat, then quickly left the stage.
"Oh, Temperance," Agnes said, "that was brilliant. Truly
brilliant. I would never have thought of that."
"How many are out there?" Temperance asked as she walked
briskly toward her dressing room, nodding toward the
backstage door.
"Not too many. At least not as many as last time. After
what happened last week, people are a little afraid of
being hurt."
Inside her dressing room, Temperance reached down to open
a hat box on the floor and grimaced. She knew that her
theatrics helped her cause, and heaven knew that she
needed all the help she could get, but she didn't like
people to be hurt.
"How clever you are to have brought another hat. I guess
you planned that gesture at the end."
"Of course," Temperance said. Agnes was a good person and
she was useful, but she certainly had no imagination. "Is
Willie out there?"
"Oh, yes. You know he'd give his life for you."
"Mmmm. Let's just hope he can get me out of here quickly
tonight. My mother's ship arrived today. I haven't seen
her in three whole months!"
"I'm sure she'll be very glad to see you. You look
wonderful."
As Temperance glanced into the mirror, adjusting the
replacement hat on her head, she smiled at Agnes. The
newspapers alleged that Temperance surrounded herself with
homely women so Temperance would look better by contrast.
But when Temperance's mother had read that, she'd smiled
and said, "But who wouldn't be plain-faced when next to
you, dear?"
At that thought Temperance smiled at herself in the
mirror. She had missed her mother so much over these last
months. She'd missed having someone there when she got
home, someone to listen to her escapades and triumphs.
Even if some of the things that Temperance did frightened
her mother, Temperance still told her about them
anyway. "You're so much like your father, dear," Melanie
O'Neil would say in that quiet voice of hers, then give a
delicate little shiver.
Temperance's father, the beloved husband of Mellie O'Neil,
had died when his daughter was just fourteen years old.
But those few years had been long enough to instill in
Temperance the fire that she needed to fight for women's
rights for all the fifteen years since her father's death.
"How's that?" Temperance asked, turning to look at
Agnes. "Am I presentable?"
"Oh, yes," Agnes said, clutching a program from tonight's
lecture to her thin bosom. "You look wonderful."
"So do you," Temperance said, then gave Agnes a kiss on
the cheek.
Blushing, Agnes looked down at her shoes. She was one of
Temperance's "abandoned women," as the newspaper called
them. Years ago Agnes had eloped with a handsome young man
only to find out that he was already married. He'd
abandoned her when he was told that her father had
disinherited his daughter because she'd run off without
his approval. When Temperance found Agnes, she'd been
living out of garbage cans and her skin was covered with
sores from poor diet and exposure. As Temperance did with
hundreds of women, she had found Agnes a job, in this
case, working backstage at the Kirkland Auditorium. As a
result, Agnes would have walked across fire for Temperance.
"That's not the hat, is it?" Agnes whispered, looking at
the huge hat that Temperance was adjusting on her head. It
was black felt, with deep red silk roses all around the
brim; magenta netting swirled over the flowers. It was the
most beautiful thing that Agnes had ever seen.
"No," Temperance said, smiling, and making a mental note
to buy Agnes a hat. "The mayor kept that hat. I think he
nailed it to his office wall and throws darts at it."
Agnes's face screwed up into rage. "I'll -- "
"I was making a joke," Temperance said quickly. "I heard
he has the hat in a glass box in his house. In a place of
honor." With each word she spoke, Agnes's face relaxed.
"He should. Everyone says that your hat got him reelected."
"Perhaps. There! Now it's on." Opening the door of the
little dressing room, she went into the hall. "I'll see
you again next month," she called as she ran toward the
stage exit door.
Sometimes Temperance wished the incident with the mayor
and the hat had never happened. Never mind that it had
been good for both of them. Still, sometimes she wished
she didn't have to spend every minute in public in a hat
big enough to use as a wagon wheel.
But, as she'd told her mother, if it helped even one woman
out of an intolerable situation, then it was worth it.
And her hats had helped many women. Or at least the
recognition of the hats had helped them. It was nearly
seven years ago, when Temperance was a mere twenty-two
years old, that she had first encountered the mayor of New
York and had arrogantly asked him what he was going to do
about the Millon tenement. A week before, the four-story
structure had collapsed on top of seventeen women and
children, killing four of them.
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