Page 30 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

16 Jack Fritscher

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

Travel heightens observation. One remembers details,
impressions, 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?”

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