Page 31 - Titanic: The Untold Tale of Gay Passengers and Crew

Titanic 17

Aboard Titanic. At sea. West bound.
Friday, 12 April, 1912

Travel heightens observation. One remembers details, im-
pressions, feelings. The Ryersons spoke to the Astors and the
Astors spoke only to God knows. Poor Molly Brown, dragged
up in her feathers and boas with a fat purse bulging with new
cash, couldn’t truly jolly her way into that tightest of first
circles. If it wasn’t her clothes she tripped on, it was her brash
sense of Colorado humor. “I’m just you before you married
a bank account,” she said to Mrs. Leland-Wynston. Maggie
came on like a hatpin in a salon stuffed with balloons filled
with hot air. The rich prefer to buy their jesters, safe clowns,
not pointed wits like dear sweet Molly.
Edward and I escorted the redoubtable Mrs. Brown for a
brisk walk on deck. The sea was calm. The stars were brighter
than ever I’d seen.
“First-class is such a bore,” Molly said. “No wonder you
boys disappear early every eve ning leaving me alone with
that little pack of Spanish gigolos. I swear they boarded with
nothing but their Brilliantine hair ton ic and their tuxedos
with empty pockets hoping to earn their way by dancing
horizontal tangos across the North Atlantic. By God! I’ve
never paid for it. Al though I have been paid.”
“Why, Molly,” Edward said. “How droll.”
“Eddy Weddy,” Molly stopped us dead in our tracks. “Do
I for one minute look...droll?”
“Molly, you always look wonderful,” I said.