Simon Baatz - The Girl on the Velvet Swing: Sex, Murder, and Madness at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century

E DNA G OODRICH SETTLED INTO HER SEAT AS THE HORSE PULLED away from the curb. The coachman flicked his whip, pulling gently on the reins to steer the chestnut-brown mare into the street. The lunch hour traffic had dispersed, and Thirty-eighth Street was now almost deserted. The horse cantered eastward, toward Broadway.

Goodrich glanced at the young girl seated beside her. Evelyn Nesbit was leaning forward slightly, looking straight ahead, clutching the hat on her head with her right hand and holding the handrail with her left. Edna Goodrich, smugly satisfied at her success, settled herself more comfortably in her seat as the hansom slowed at the approach to Broadway.

The carriage, suddenly stuck in the congestion of wagons and carts that crawled south along Broadway, almost came to a stop. The girl released the grip on her hat and turned to interrogate her companion.

Who was Stanford White? she asked. Why had Edna pestered her so insistently to accept his invitation? Since Evelyns first appearance on the stage, six weeks previously, dozens of men had tried to attract her attention. They sent her flowers; they shouted her name from the stalls; some waited for her at the stage door. What, she inquired, was so special about Stanford White that they should spend an afternoon fighting the traffic to get across town to visit him?

Edna Goodrich, amused that Evelyn remained unaware of Stanford Whites existence, patted the girls hand reassuringly. White, she replied, was a great man, perhaps the greatest man in New York. He was the architect who had designed so many of the citys most famous buildings, the man responsible for Madison Square Garden on Twenty-sixth Street, the man who had built the Washington Square Arch on Fifth Avenue. He knew everyone, and everyone knew Stanford White. And because he was friendly with so many actors and directorshe had designed the Players Club on Gramercy ParkStanford White was influential among theater folk. He can make you, Edna confided to Evelyn, her voice full of meaning, anything you wish to be on the stage.

Edna Goodrich was feeling pleased with herself. Stanford White had mentioned to her, several weeks earlier, the photographs of Evelyn that he had seen in the New York World. Who was this new girl? he asked. How could he meet her? Goodrich, one of the singers in the Florodora sextet, had become acquainted with Evelyn at the end of June after the manager of the company, John Fisher, hired Evelyn as a chorus girl.

The carriage left Broadway, turning onto Twenty-fourth Street, finally coming to a halt before a brownstone house set back from the sidewalk. Evelyn Nesbit looked up in surprise, disappointed that their rendezvous would occur in such a

Edna Goodrich paid the driver his fare and was now ascending the steps to ring the bell. The door opened inward automatically at her touch, without that familiar click that would indicate the release of a lock, and she began climbing a flight of rickety wooden steps to the second floor.

Evelyn Nesbit stood in the doorway, looking up into the darkened stairwell.

Where on earth are we going? she asked anxiously.

Its all right, Edna answered, pausing to reassure her friend. Come right along. Go on up, she added cheerfully.

Evelyn began to follow her companion, and as she started up the steps, a door opened at the top of the stairwell. A light appeared, casting its rays on the topmost steps. A mans voice, deep and resonant, a welcoming voice, boomed out a sudden greetingHelloand as she reached the top of the stairs, Evelyn could see Edna Goodrich leaning into Stanford White, embracing him and kissing him on the cheek.

White stepped backward as Evelyn entered the room. He gazed at her, admiring her figure, his eyes lingering over

He glanced momentarily at Edna Goodrich, giving her a look of appreciation that she had introduced him to this marvelous vision. A second man, Reginald Ronalds, approached, and both men listened attentively as Edna Goodrich introduced Evelyn, telling them that Evelyn had recently joined the chorus in the musical Florodora playing at the Casino Theatre. Evelyn was a newcomer to the city, having moved with her mother and younger brother to New York only eight months before, in December 1900.

Stanford White introduced his friend to Edna Goodrich and Evelyn Nesbit. Reginald Ronalds, thirty-five years old, had graduated from Yale University in 1886 and had fought with Teddy Roosevelts Rough Riders in Cuba during the

The dining table had been set for four people. The two men fussed over Evelyn during the luncheon, teasing her for her girlish appearance, bantering with her, and peppering her with questions. Did she find New York as glamorous as she had imagined? How did she like her role in the Florodora chorus? Where did she dine? Whose invitations had she accepted? Did she prefer Delmonicos or Rectors for supper? Evelyn gave her attention more to Reginald Ronalds than to Stanford WhiteRonalds was the younger, better-looking man, six feet tall with blue eyes and blond hairand he joked and flirted with her, appearing all the while solicitous for her welfare, forbidding her to drink more than a single glass of champagne.

Evelyn relaxed; her shyness had left her; the champagne had washed away her inhibitions and she had forgotten her initial apprehension. She felt a slight disappointment that Reginald Ronalds had to leave earlyhe had to go to his office, he explainedbut Stanford White invited his other guests to stay a little longer. And neither Edna Goodrich nor Evelyn Nesbit was in a hurry to depart; both women were in Florodora,