Edith Rosenbaum Russell in 1920
(Photographed by Arnold Genthe, New York)
The following is an excerpt from a document that was lost in my recent hard drive crash. Thanks to George Behe, who was able to forward a copy that I had e-mailed him, it's saved now to a disk!
This narrative of the Titanic disaster is one of Edy's earliest public accounts on the subject; it's from a speech she gave to students of the New York School of Fine and Applied Art (now Parsons School of Design) in the 1920s. Her talk mainly concerned her career as a fashion journalist, buyer and critic but she could not avoid touching on the subject that would ultimately define her life:
"Next came the terrible affair of the Titanic.
I was coming to New York on the biggest buying trip I had made until then. My trunks were full of the most beautiful things from Paquin and Georgette and all the best houses in Paris.
A fortune teller had warned me not to take that ship. But I was stubborn and determined to go as there were new orders to attend to in New York. I was also anxious to see my family and friends who had been after me for some time to come back. I had been in an automobile accident a few months previous which had killed my fiance and severely injured another friend and everyone back home was frantic for me to leave my shopping tours behind and return for a long visit.
So I set off on the Titanic feeling ill at ease. I had a nagging fear that something awful was going to happen. The night of the disaster, I had been reading in the lounge after dinner, still in my evening dress.
While I was returning to my cabin I felt the jar from the iceberg and went out to see broken ice scattered along the deck. I was told there was nothing amiss so I went to bed. But then there came a knock on my door and a man sang out 'Get up! Put your life preserver on!' Which I did at once.
I pulled on the nearest thing I could find. Unfortunately it was a dress with a hobble skirt and like an idiot I tottered out on deck in it. I had my steward go back for my toy pig - a bit of nonsense I think it was now, but at the time it seemed important. It was my mascot. Mother had given it to me for good luck after the auto crash. It was a music box that played "The Maxixe" rag.
I had this thing under my arm as I queued up to board a lifeboat. But when I saw the great distance between the rail and the little boat, I chickened out. To add to my worry, I knew I could not make a safe leap wearing the ridiculous skirt I had on.
The officers tried to get me to go, jostling me about, but I was too frightened. Then one of the men grabbed my little pig.
He tossed it into the boat and I dove headlong after it. I couldn't part with my mother's gift. It was like a voice from home. I answered the call, in a sense, and it saved my life.
I don't have to say what happened soon afterwards. Everybody knows the Titanic went down and that many, many hundreds of lives were needlessly lost.
A horrible nightmare it all was, and still is, for me. I was so fortunate to have been spared. I never forget that. I caught a terrible cold that ended up as laryngitis and my lips were severely chapped.
I recovered from these ailments but not from the sadness."
At our "Titanic Texas Weekend" - coming up in a few weeks - I am hoping one of the guests, Kate Bortner, attired in costume as Edith Russell herself, will read this excerpt as part of the special program of readings from survivor letters and other Titanic-related documents that will take place before the exhibition.
Randy