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"OUR OWN LADY" 
 
 A Sketch By 
 ALICE ROSSETER-WILLARD 
 
 P. F. PETTIBONE & COMPANY 
 
 PRINTERS, BINDERS, ENGRAVERS, STATIONERS 
 
 CHICAGO 
 1931 
 
Copyright, 1931 
 
 By 
 
 Alice Rosseter-Willard 
 
 Printed in U. S. A 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter Page 
 Introduction — Bertha Baur 6 
 
 I. My Say— A "Spinner in the Sun" 7 
 
 IT. Beginnings — When and Where 10 
 
 III. Chicago's History-making Women — Wigwam Days 13 
 
 IV. Mr. Mark Hanna, Chairman, St. Louis Convention 19 
 
 V. A Marvelous Headquarters— Great Workers 26 
 
 VI. Embroidered Petticoats, Finery and Progress 31 
 
 VII. Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman. Bertha to the Rescue 37 
 
 VIII. Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage — Happiness 50 
 
 IX. Bertha a Three-Time Graduate — Home — Child — Alone. . 62 
 
 X. Crowded Hours — Glorious Life 74 
 
 XI. Politics Is Politics — Enjoying Life and Growth 85 
 
 XII. Bertha Would Go to Congress— A Cheerful Loser 98 
 
 XIII. A Wondrous Comparison — Brilliant Treadway 105 
 
 XIV. Mrs. Baur's Tea for a Queen — An Historic Visit 114 
 
 XV. Through a White House Window — The Hamilton Club's 
 
 Visit — Brilliant Life in Washington 119 
 
 XVI. Their Child an Heiress — Bows to a Queen — Costume De- 
 scribed — Holland, Russia, Germany, France 131 
 
 XVII. The White House— Buckingham Palace 136 
 
 XVIII. Coronations — Crowds — Splendor — Orient and Occident. .. 143 
 
 XIX. Russia — The Volga Boat — An Apostrophe 156 
 
 XX. Home: Daughter's Debut— Greetings — Grand Ball 161 
 
 XXI. Bowing to England's Queen — Chicago Court Robes 166 
 

 
 
 
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 Photo by Lafayette, New Bond st., London, W. 
 
 Bertha Baur (Mrs. Jacob Baur) as she appeared at the moment of her presentation to Queen 
 Mary of England, at Buckingham Palace, Wednesday evening, May 28, 1930 
 
BERTHA BAUR 
 
 A Sketch 
 
 It's sharing sorrow, and work, and worth, 
 And making better this good old earth; 
 It's serving, striving through strain and stress, 
 It's doing your noblest — that's Success. 
 
 Dr. Johnson. 
 
 Introduction: 
 
 Scotland numbered among her daughters a much loved and active 
 Lady Elizabeth. From her earliest knowing she was awake to every- 
 thing transpiring, every happening in her adored, great and noted 
 castle-home; in her entourage, then in her shire. The alert young 
 lassie came to be known of all. So endearing herself to her people she 
 soon came to be called "Oor Ain Leddy" in appreciation, as her title 
 and that great Elizabeth were to the warm-hearted Scots, too formal, 
 not near enough for one so ingratiating. 
 
 A few years ago came the good King's son to the castle so loved, 
 and a little later the Lady Elizabeth became his Duchess, their place 
 only a step or so below the throne, and as a national character she 
 could no longer be "our own lady." The meaning, expressive, intimate 
 title was dropped, and with only quotation marks in acknowledgment, 
 is adopted for the little book of biography, history and poetry about 
 (Mrs.) Bertha Baur, because she is our own lady. 
 
 A. R. W. 
 
My Say 
 
 I am not ignorant, ne unsure, that many there are, before whose 
 sight this Booke shall find small grace, and lesse favor. So hard-a- 
 thing it is to write or indite any matter, whatsoever it be, that should 
 be able to sustaine and abide the variable judgment, and to obtaine 
 or winne the constant love and allowance of every man, especially 
 if it containe in it any novelty or unwonted strangeness. 
 
 — Raynold's Woman's Booke. 
 
 "When you have a story of human accomplishment, write it out. 
 The world is ahunger to know about enlivening, worthwhile endeavor, 
 by whom, where and in what time carried on, and will rejoice in your 
 ideas." So urged one who wrote much universally accepted as good. 
 
 Obeying that beneficient's fiat, this little record is sent forth to meet 
 the tide of public whim. Many have asked me for a story about Bertha 
 Duppler Baur (Mrs. Jacob Baur), one of Chicago's most versatile 
 women, and these have helped persuade to that obedience. Against 
 this splendid company a solitary objector in studied air of superiority 
 snarls that "a life is no longer great when it can be bought on every 
 bookstall." 
 
 Unshrivelled by this philosophist, I reply, it is not claimed to be a 
 story of a great life; only death reveals the eminent; life levels all its 
 sharers. It is merely a sketchy narrative around a vivid character, one 
 as sympathetic as was ever known among women. Lack of literary and 
 scholarly equipment is acknowledged. The work goes forth amidst the 
 world's book-craft freighted with the one hope that the little enterprise 
 of friendship's offering will receive from the public which so loves a 
 personality, a measure of the author's appreciation for the friend of the 
 years. 
 
 Therefore, "go lightly, mortals; don't bear too hard." 
 
 Many feel that American women are worthy of some study. It is 
 candidly agreed that they wear well, rarely are spoiled by success. 
 Herein will be found truthful interest-matter about one of them who 
 has lived more than a high average everyday life, whose story runs 
 through a maze of brilliance that nears the marvellous as she leads us 
 on. The tale is uncrowded with minute personal details, leaving analy- 
 
 7 
 
Our Own Lady 
 
 sis of character and personal intimacies for a less sketchy pen. It is 
 too simple an adventure to admit of analysis as indulged by those who 
 know all about writing small books of biography and history, who love 
 the orderly manner of dividing their material under such captions as 
 the Event, the Circumstance, the Locale, the Motive, the Result and 
 Aftermath. It is not intended to be a log, not a day book of the 
 heroine's soul. Few dates, no chronological order, just incidents, souve- 
 nirs, yet safe material for historians. Considering the span in time the 
 record is titanic. It is one to inspire desire for a story of its activities, 
 wide range, romance, fortune and environment, as it has furnished 
 reason for thought and admiration to many. There is set forth only 
 that which we know, with no indulgence in suspense, the soul of narra- 
 tive, no speculation, no unusual action or thrills by which to hope to 
 hold the reader, no advice to climb, ladies, climb. Above all there is 
 no desire to intrigue with a proud name or by any word detract from 
 the fine fame of an engaging woman. 
 
 If to some the essence of criticism is fault-finding, they should be 
 made glad to know the truth, which is: "always there have been and 
 always there will be, some blameless lives." One flashes, "Even so, just 
 why a honeysuckle and applesauce biography? It cannot be truth. 
 What are this woman's benefactions? Where her endowments? Whom 
 has she made? What has she instituted? Where are her charities? 
 What her great virtues? Better some rhubarb and bitter herbs. Some 
 of their tang would do us good, be more enlivening. The lure of print- 
 er's ink attracts the masterful type, always has done so, especially the 
 socially and politically ambitious. But then, maybe I, knowing the 
 world full well, am disagreeable." 
 
 For answer: The record speaks for itself. It expresses a little of 
 the glory and grace, grit and gumption of a particular person on life's 
 stage, one who has enjoyed the play of life and still is a "spinner 
 in the sun." No expression of malice, no trivial reports will be given in 
 answer, two qualities frequently believed to be the ruling motive of 
 numerous present-time biographers, narrators who can gossip spicily. 
 In extenuation of the error, sometimes such glimpses are more inter- 
 esting in revealing lives of charm, interest and purpose. These qualities 
 distinguish the character of our subject, whose story is not one of 
 whimsies. She is one of the fearless souls who set out early in life to 
 find the dwelling-place of adventure; those whose diversity and far- 
 flung energy spell inspiration, who dare to act and to think for them- 
 selves. Mrs. Baur's example has helped to enlarge the sympathies and 
 to widen the outlook of many; to develop gifts possessed by some and 
 
My Say 
 
 not before her example, recognized as possessions. Most worthwhile 
 movements in her environment have known her as a friend and helper, 
 for she is resourceful, unafraid. 
 
 It is in throbbing, stressful, sometimes drab and unlovely, but never 
 thoughtless or uncharitable Chicago, where she has played her part. 
 It is by the little river and the great lake, in a city with its ten thou- 
 sand ambitions, each one of them faced with a hundred drawbacks or 
 discouragements, where she has wrought well and derived abundantly. 
 Yearly she has seen the lines lengthened and strengthened, the arena 
 broadened, the city growing bigger and better, more ambitious, more 
 renowned and more beautiful. With grasp and forward outlook, natur- 
 ally she has long been a leader in the polite world, as well as an 
 enviable example to the city's business and professional women. She 
 was early and for long a business woman, later a professional one. 
 The heights and depths of human life have long been within her vision 
 owing to her many-sidedness. The art of idleness is to her unknown. 
 Often she says it is an honor to work and to make one's living. Her 
 motto should be, "Labor ipse voluptas." But Mrs. Baur is not much 
 given to mottoes, although it was very early that she took to herself 
 the slogan or battle cry, "To excel." 
 
 We are delving into a life-story that is an enchanting romance, one 
 that adorns Chicago history not its social or cultural phases only, but 
 that of the city's driving, sturdy, every-day life of color and action, of 
 pleasures, pride and glory. In her home city is known her mental atti- 
 tude, how she spends her time. It is where her successes are applauded, 
 her few failures accounted for. Character results from these last men- 
 tioned. Anyone can endure adversity, only a great soul flourishes in 
 prosperity where flattery always attends. She has not performed a deed 
 that the whole world has stopped to hear about and to applaud; hers 
 the harder task in the everyday service destiny has meted, during her 
 splendid quest. 
 
Beginnings, When and Where 
 
 ii 
 
 No field is so well worth cultivating as the human mind, and the 
 mind of a good woman is a very precious creation of the hand 
 of God. 
 
 — Cardinal Patrick O'Donnell. 
 
 Bertha Elizabeth Baur was born in Mineral Point, Wisconsin, near 
 Madison. Her parents, Sebastian and Mary Duppler (nee von Fiihr), 
 were Germans. Madame mere, as her prefix denotes a patrician, was a 
 native of storied Bingen-on-the-Rhine. She was the mother of four 
 children: Rose, who passed away at the age of twenty-one; two sons, 
 Frank, who died in New Orleans in 1912; Emil departing this life in 
 1918 in Boscobel, Wisconsin. Bertha, her youngest, in feature, poise 
 and propensity for affairs, social and state, reveals her generations of 
 patrician ancestry. 
 
 Pere Duppler, a Bavarian, was born in Koenigsbach, Germany. 
 Naturally this daughter loves poetry and song, and joys in butterflies, 
 her symbols of life that live their freedom, love and gaiety, that joyous 
 life she would have the world claim for its heritage. This ancestral 
 blend goes far to account for the cheerfulness and the love of the artis- 
 tic and beautiful in Bertha's temperament. Without these life would 
 be so very dull. The Bavarians are handsome, suave, bland and gay; 
 they glory in expression, in color, excel in music, love beauty, and in 
 their dancing lend an air of abandon and display of mirth sadder 
 than grief. 
 
 This lady, a Chicago resident for more than three decades, ranks 
 with the noble as well as with the noble of the ranks. But her distinc- 
 tion is all her own, and if she is not highest among the many great, 
 very certainly owing to her worth she is far to the fore among our 
 great many. 
 
 Bertha was only nine years old when her mother died. At seventeen 
 the unusual girl had finished her school days with her graduation from 
 high school, and was earning her own living as secretary to the presi- 
 dent of the Midland railroad, in Anderson, Indiana. Then came a few 
 months with the Republican national committee at Chicago headquar- 
 ters. It was there in that great emporium of political commerce where 
 
 10 
 
Beginnings When and Where 11 
 
 began her countless contacts in her happy adventure into a wider world. 
 This rich experience at the dawn of her meeting with the world doubt- 
 less stirred her acquisitive nature to the realization of its possibilities. 
 Verily she is a Chicago woman. 
 
 Miss Duppler, an engaging and pretty girl, and an earnest one, was 
 happily without youthful seriousness in thought about her skipping 
 youth by a spring from the cradle into a busy world of worries and 
 materialities. She would be cheerful. How good it is to be merry and 
 wise. She was poor as was ever a young girl in the whole world, then 
 or since. Well-born, happily endowed with a fine spirit of friendliness, 
 industry and ambition, and always she has had ambition. Her early 
 anxiety, and an urgent one, was to make a living, to meet the daily 
 grind of material wants. To do this she very promptly set about suit- 
 ably preparing herself, feeling certain that life would be better farther 
 on. Also she had an impelling hunger to know things, books, measures, 
 the world, a longing that with some characters is insatiable. The words: 
 
 I would study, 
 I would know, 
 I would admire forever, 
 
 clothe a thought that has been entertainment for the human spirit, 
 those of anxious minds in all ages, the thought that recalls the young 
 girl making a similar statement in a moment when she was grappling 
 with some of her perplexing problems. That impulse to know what is 
 transpiring, to be familiar with one's surroundings, is an element of 
 power, it is verve. Soon she became eager to be in touch with, to under- 
 stand affairs of importance and progress, in her own environment. The 
 mind, all her faculties were awakening. Her second aim was to acquire 
 poise, the interesting manner of one who is both knowing and learning 
 (self-possession is the better expression), for she would know, and she 
 would be sure of and know herself, and she would avoid error, the 
 making of mistakes, she would be watchful so far as humanly possible 
 to youth. Early show of wisdom, very certainly. 
 
 She had no one at all to whom she might turn for advice or direction 
 pertaining to the affairs of this mundane course as likely becoming to a 
 young girl possessed of an original mind ; but this young girl knew her 
 soul, for from the reasoning moment she seems to have been imbued 
 with a serene God-trust. One of her names is Elizabeth it is worth 
 remembering. 
 
 In appearance she was a fine, normal girl on the threshold of the 
 fullest hour, the most radiant in all human experience, the unique occa- 
 
12 Our Own Lady 
 
 sion of life's beginning. With her own mind and hands she was easing 
 her bark out on the illimitable sea. The awakening soul was aware of 
 the moment's significance and joyed in the sense. She felt she was 
 accepting her treadway to her post in life; but of course she knew not 
 the route. But very sincerely she meant to enter every open door, 
 hoping that by and by every door would be open. The momentousness 
 impressed her, but no sense of fear as to her fullest development of 
 mind and personality attended. It was a grave moment but she could 
 not turn back, nor wished to do so; she was as reads her poem entitled 
 Go Forward, written in 1929: 
 
 Brave in heart, and strong in prayer, 
 With face uplifted to God's high throne; 
 
 Whence cometh the courage to do and dare, 
 Fighting alone, yet not alone, 
 
 For the armies of God are everywhere. 
 
 The young woman was fortunate, almost prescient in her choice of 
 a place to call home, as she was happy in the time for her life's begin- 
 ning for her the ebb-tide of circumstance. In the city of her choice 
 she was early esteemed for her growing personal worth as later she 
 came to be regarded for her capability in leadership. Thus honors and 
 preference came to be hers for services rendered, value received, in 
 time, place and kind, measured to her by her fellows, never because 
 of birth or wealth. True, these coupled with character, intellect and 
 fitness, combine to render her place due to good breeding, possessions 
 and achievement, the recognition universally accorded, else how would 
 apply the law of compensation? In all ages character traces through 
 generations, as revealed for our recognition in countless examples. 
 
Chicago's History-making Women 
 
 in 
 
 . . . Dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that's 
 the stuff life is made of. 
 
 — Poor Richard. 
 
 A savant declares history to be the essence of innumerable biogra- 
 phies; that it is only information about men, women and events, facts 
 relating to practical life, which lives on enduringly, while academic writ- 
 ing dies and is forgotten. 
 
 In this belief some excellent women once upon a time, urged their 
 world-famed leader to write for them, about herself, home and family; 
 about her going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down 
 in it for a full half century. These hungered for acquaintance with her 
 legion of friends made in those brimming years, and to know about 
 her life and travels in many lands. Theirs was the wisdom that it 
 would give to the reading world to know of her unparalleled activities, 
 how sustained and their unquestioned value. The result a great book 
 in which lay portrayed a happy life of service, devotion, loyalty; an 
 unrivalled career in its greatest contacts and endeavors, a history lived 
 and truly recorded. 
 
 This historic episode called attention to Mrs. Baur's career, not so 
 unlike, and gave value to the requests for her story. She also has for 
 long been one with the life of the world; has travelled widely for study 
 and finish, and to enjoy the most beautiful of all worlds, some of the 
 examples of the ebb and tide of human endeavors. Her travels comprise 
 an enchanting itinerary. What happiness if only a fraction of it might 
 be given here. 
 
 Assuredly Mrs. Baur is not unique. Other active women of fine 
 character, with invaluable accomplishments and highest culture, from 
 distinguished ancestry, have called Chicago home, vast numbers of 
 them do so at the present time. By universal consent one of them is 
 the foremost among modern women; she is striking as a social states- 
 woman of serenity, reverenced as a lover of humanity and trusted in 
 her idealism. Another example: One famed as the most nearly perfect 
 hostess; who has entertained royalties, many celebrities; whose formal 
 and informal affairs live long in the memory of those who attend them, 
 
 13 
 
14 Our Own Lady 
 
 is she who exemplifies her bravest and best interest in life in her work 
 for the Home for Convalescent Crippled Children, Prince Crossing, 
 west of Chicago. It dates from 1910 and is magnificent. There is 
 that one who honors her citizenship by giving royally from her mil- 
 lions to promote the cultural growth of the city of her palatial homes, 
 and who without stint, shares with the public her priceless art treasures 
 from the richest collections from which she has culled on the other 
 side of the world. Other opulent women deserve to be mentioned. 
 
 Many have done as much, numbers have done far more for home- 
 town interests, humane practices, cultural amenities than Mrs. Baur. 
 The city has had and still has women of greater wealth, of more exten- 
 sive travels; many who have labored longer in their chosen fields; many 
 more highly educated, of more social graces and easy assurance; many 
 more widely known beyond the city's gates; hundreds of equal ability; 
 other hundreds who have gained and hold proud eminence and enjoy 
 wide recognition. The city's annals are lustrous with names of women 
 gracing every department of a wonder-city's complex life, and it has 
 been so since her wigwam days. 
 
 But this women whose story is of interest to us, likens unto Paganini, 
 who lived always in the midst of throngs if not multitudes. Anent the 
 two characters is recalled a line, unapt, perhaps, as pointing contrast 
 while only shadowing a parallel: "Talent is nurtured best in solitude, 
 character on life's tempestuous sea." The peerless artist never knew 
 solitude except for a time in prison, and as if to add proof for the 
 adage, it happened then and there dawned his undying fame. Prison 
 walls could not stifle his divine enthusiasm, for so great his genius, 
 though his instrument possessed only one string, the majesty of its 
 music so thrilled and disturbed and moved, that the prison doors 
 opened to him and the world greeted a master. 
 
 Mrs. Baur's life has not been tempestuous, but it has been all action 
 and enthusiasm and hers is a well-rounded character whether or not it 
 is owing to her life spent among multitudes, literally her case. To her 
 action has proved of the quality of that orator who, when prayed to 
 for the secret of his art replied, "Action"; repeating it when begged for 
 the second and then the third secret of his perfection in his art. He 
 walked by the sea training his voice with its music, roar and repose, 
 and in that walking and study acquired physical charm of action also, 
 and with the combination became the world's model orator. Undeniably 
 it is action, study, hard work and a goodly proportion of ambition and 
 energy, blended with eternal watchfulness, that comprise the "nurture" 
 that moves the world. Only these together spell eminence. Our subject 
 
Chicago's History-making Women 15 
 
 knows them all, has acquaintance with the volume of adventure and 
 culture spread for those having seeing eyes in every day affairs; those 
 unwilling to miss any opportunity for gaining knowledge. These com- 
 prise the cable of enthusiastic industry which identifies opportunity, 
 and opportunity we well know is the reward for ability. 
 
 In the polite world Mrs. Baur's standing owes to personality, achieve- 
 ment, possessions and fashion, some one of these exclusive qualifications 
 constituting high society within whose demarcations are classed and 
 defined the cultivated in a community in its social relations. Among 
 the people with common and larger interests alike, the society known 
 as the community in which all are recognized as the body of the people, 
 she is also eminent. It is gratifying that she is a successful business 
 woman, is a care-taking, progressive modern, one not afraid of big 
 undertakings. Always with her has been the desire to do good, to be 
 helpful, that the world should be glad for her presence. 
 
 However it all may be whether or not this tale-teller has read aright 
 the little book of life, there is the hope that her simple narrative may 
 contribute a moiety of the essence that evolves into history, a bit of 
 history as lived by the woman whose life story is our concern, a notable 
 link in the chain of her city's happy circumstance, the place wherein 
 and from where she has lived life to the hilt. 
 
 Naturally, beginnings are uncertainties; we cannot know futurity; 
 that success does not come in advance is known of all. Otherwise our 
 loss would be the joy of incentive. 
 
 How has it all come about, this career of gripping variations, heart- 
 throbs and toll of years, its 
 
 "Fine old castle of Memory's hall 
 With its towers and turrets sublime?" 
 
 The tale is worthy to be told. 
 
 "Life has given Bertha Baur lavishly to deal and enjoy," one 
 declares. 
 
 Truly said, but given for effort, for conscience. Reward or what you 
 will, it is and always has been received by her as a trust, a compensa- 
 tion for living the life; for she has exercised care, been considerate, 
 indulged love for her kind, fearlessly accepted responsibilities, and 
 thereby and therein has truly enjoyed and has dealt freely. Yes, life 
 has been to Mrs. Baur all these and she has called life good. And yet 
 life has given her to drink to the dregs; very early she felt "the vexed 
 pulse of this feverish world." 
 
16 Our Own Lady 
 
 Few of great quality, of any quality have known only nectar. 
 
 She has never known lack of motive or interest, but only unceasing 
 endeavor; these limn the personage Bertha Baur. 
 
 Her philosophy regarding charity partakes of the Talmudical in 
 that she holds "the best alms are to enable one to dispense with the 
 need of alms." She excels in any cause that enlists her interest, from 
 selling Liberty bonds for her government, to assisting in establishing 
 "White Elephant" shops for benevolences. At one time not so far 
 back it was said that Mrs. Baur devoted one-fourth of her time to the 
 placing of men and women in positions in which to earn their livelihood, 
 sifting these needy among plants, shops, organizations, in political 
 places, and institutions, and that she considered it time well spent. She 
 was a prodigous worker in the enterprise that resulted in Chicago's 
 magnificent Civic Opera of which she is a trustee, and at the present 
 time is chairman of the opera's executive committee. The Arts club of 
 Chicago is another of her chief interests; to many other organizations 
 she has given of her best. 
 
 She does all kinds of work without discrimination or hesitation. For 
 one Republican National Convention in Chicago, Mrs. Baur acted as 
 usher on the chairman's platform, whereon many of the great and dis- 
 tinguished claim seats. The post of such intricacies gave her pleasure, 
 and the convention's guests of honor were free to enjoy the sessions sans 
 confusion, sans doubt and sans waiting. She has acted as saleswoman 
 in rummage shops for the Children's Memorial hospital; as cashier in 
 a near north side restaurant, giving its all day's receipts for the work 
 of that particular ward's Republican women; sold women's hats all day 
 long for some charity; investigated back yards and garbage removal for 
 betterment organizations; made a speech standing on a restaurant table 
 for a platform, in the old board of trade pit during a campaign carried 
 on by one of her very responsible big clubs, to raise money for the 
 treatment of cancer; once she delivered an engaging address before the 
 more than critical, always discriminating, Dill Pickle club on the subject 
 of her travels in Russia; another onerous assignment as acting judge in 
 a contest to decide on and declare the best paper by a man on what 
 constitutes the most desirable quality in a wife; and by a woman as to 
 the requirements in a husband. In this task she was one with a doctor, 
 a publisher, a woman writer, and the four passed on more than one 
 thousand letters. It may be of interest to readers of my book to know 
 that the majority of men writers declared for cheerfulness, which pleased 
 the judge known to us and who is known to all as a cheer leader, always 
 one. The women liked understanding best in a husband. The winning 
 
Chicago's History-making Women T7 
 
 man in the contest had been married two years, the woman winner forty. 
 
 It requires character of quality to perform so many parts and 
 remain one's real self. 
 
 However, to one thinking it over carefully, the fact is conspicuous, 
 that there is nothing so mysterious, though in the casual notice it 
 may appear striking, as to what really happens in career-making in 
 this complex life of our time. To be sure Mrs. Baur has faith in the 
 greatness and goodness of human nature, also she has sounded its 
 malevolence. But having regard for truth there can be no concise 
 plan all worked out and then put in operation. Nothing ever hap- 
 pens like that. There is no success in advance. It just is that some- 
 thing needs to be done and one takes cognizance of that fact, the 
 problem. The problem may be recognized as one or not, but it, the 
 situation, is met to the best of one's ability with constant thought 
 and careful reasoning. One day's work follows another. We speak 
 of shaping a career. The career may come from care, regard, earn- 
 estness, truth, but it is not the result, not the goal. It is every day's 
 living that has illumined the way. Somewhere in Mrs. Eddy's writ- 
 ings appears this arresting epigram: "It is not death but the under- 
 standing of life that makes man immortal." 
 
 Again, ever and always comes back to us that it is the living of this 
 life that is career. Nothing else is worth while, 
 
 "For all are architects of Fate 
 Working in these walls of Time." 
 
 It is in Chicago as girl, young woman, wife, mother and widow that 
 Mrs. Baur has lived the gamut of human emotions and experiences; 
 study, action, effort, success, love, tragedy, life. 
 
 Hypatia gave as her belief, as an axiom, that "Life is an unfold- 
 ment, and the farther we travel the more truth we comprehend. To 
 understand things at our door is the best preparation for understand- 
 ing those that lie beyond." 
 
 A gleam of this truth may have come to Miss Duppler at her 
 entrance upon the immense stage of her countless activities to-be. It 
 was a full moment; political exigencies, dissatisfaction with municipal 
 governments, various evils noisily enumerated in every section, abuse 
 of privilege, misuse of the ballot and other trials prevailing, very much 
 as was the case in glamorous Alexandria, then the world's intellectual 
 center, when the above axiom was given expression. In her aloneness 
 voices within may have aided decision, for the music in her soul 
 
18 Our Own Lady 
 
 always chimed, "it will be better farther on," she has more than once 
 stated. Or she may have taken to her heart the poet's fruitful words, 
 "Just drop your bucket where you are." 
 
 Far from invidious comparison one may recall that the sparkling 
 few lines of that poem long years ago gave to this country one of the 
 greatest welfare workers and exemplars of modern times. In his 
 wondering mind as how to proceed, where to begin, and he had decided 
 to begin, he read them somewhere and was stirred, then "adopted 
 and adapted" them to his desire and needs, and in so doing, listening 
 to voices (within), came to tower Amazon-like above his fellows and 
 left to his race an imperishable name. Often in his public speeches, 
 and when giving advice and encouragement, he would render that 
 title, "Just drop your bucket where you are." 
 
 In any case and to whatever influence owing, being practical, almost 
 unto prescience it sometimes seems, Miss Duppler lowered away in 
 Chicago, a vast arena, and one since its beginning a center of inspira- 
 tion and example for gifted and patriotic women, those possessing also 
 as so many do, the dual quality to wish to serve and endure, to under- 
 stand. Ever since those full days of question and endeavor her quest 
 has been for thought and growth, for the newer and better things just 
 a little ahead. In her eagerness she may have pictured for herself 
 a trinity of such good fare as travel, public speaking and meeting peo- 
 ple of note and in high stations, in the light of her later enjoyment of 
 these rich privileges; even she may have dreamed of power, place, 
 knowledge, recognition, friends, service, for as time rolled on and be- 
 fore she had reached life's meridian as life is now lived, every one 
 of these was in her train. 
 
 A presentation to hearten the young person of whatever age or 
 time, who is looking forward to the journey over life's highway. 
 
Mr. Mark Hanna, Chairman 
 
 IV 
 
 "To be just, and kind, and wise, 
 There solid self -enjoyment lies." 
 
 During a quiet moment near the close of a grilling day in our big 
 headquarters, the Congress hotel, Chicago, there came tripping to my 
 desk a young girl who radiated good will and the joy of life. 
 
 "How are you getting on?" was her sunny greeting. 
 
 "I so love to watch you at your work. Please tell me where you are 
 from? I am Bertha Duppler, and I'm secretary to Mr. A. B. Cum- 
 mins. Isn't all perfectly wonderful here?" 
 
 The girl's delight and alertness were infectious. She had observed 
 everything and, with her ever-demonstrating left hand, waived into 
 the moment's contemplation the entire Auditorium and its tremendous 
 activities, as well as the Annex and its contribution to the gaiety and 
 drive of a marvellous campaign, marvellous whatever might be its 
 outcome. 
 
 So were introduced the one to the other, the Bertha E. Duppler 
 Baur of this history, and its writer. 
 
 During calls made for information and instructions, among the 
 directing officials, managers, specialists and their assistants compris- 
 ing the big organization, the writer had before the moment of this 
 delightful visit, been attracted by the amiable young secretary with 
 the golden voice and flashing, level eyes. 
 
 It was in the time of the McKinley-Bryan presidential campaign, 
 one unlike any other ever waged. The Republican national head- 
 quarters, inaugurated at the Auditorium hotel, had soon spread over 
 several parts of the Annex, now known as the Congress hotel. This 
 writer's work was in the woman's bureau, and we were known as the 
 Woman's National Republican association. We carried on in four or 
 five rooms in the Annex, quarters alloted to our use by the Republican 
 national committee, then directed by the sagacious Mr. Mark Hanna, 
 of Ohio, chairman. We were a few proud women to be so highly con- 
 sidered, some of our number almost exultant. 
 
 "Just why a woman's bureau, please? How did it come about?" 
 
 19 
 
20 Our Own Lady 
 
 For one answer, it came as a result of a convincing woman's argu- * 
 ment, lawyer-like pleading, and promises; second, it was arranged 
 for by a graceful and knowing politician, one tactful, reasoning beyond 
 his kind. He did not need women's help. But he was just, far-seeing 
 and amiable. His recognition savored of the fact that women might 
 better be recognized and maybe helped over a few rough places, or later 
 on they would likely be helping themselves. Arriving at this state 
 of mind and stage of reasoning, Mr. Chairman appeared willing and 
 ready to do his bit. In his decision he had some support by way of 
 the adoption of the latest Republican platform carrying a woman's 
 plank. The plank was not much as a piece of political timber, but 
 there never is any telling. A woman in the case, no matter at all how 
 remote the place, the situation is shaky and requires one to be on 
 the lookout. 
 
 No one appeared to know what we were to do, or could have to do, 
 in the political tempest about to absorb the interest of the entire 
 country, almost to the exclusion of all else, as the case proved. None 
 appeared displeased by our presence, and vast numbers of interested 
 persons called at our bureau. These interested and interesting men 
 and women came from all parts of the nation and from every calling. 
 It was in every meaning a national headquarters, and in a city unlike 
 any other for such purposes. 
 
 A mid-continental situation, a railroad center, an industrial bee- 
 hive, with driving forces comprising the most fearless and hardest- 
 working community of men in business, banks, associations, newspaper 
 world, boards, hotels, manufacturing and packing plants, to be found 
 anywhere on earth. Not one among these high-strung men dreamed 
 of letting go, of letting our distressed country face the bow-wows. 
 Then just at the moment when it seemed impossible for matters to be 
 worse, along came a big man to whom they could look for timely and 
 skilful direction, friendliest suggestions, and above all else a meed of 
 warmest appreciation, in whatever matters wherein they could be use- 
 ful, in the person of the puissant chairman. Mr. Hanna's promises 
 were made good, full dinner pails and all. The city's resources were 
 laid at his feet, so to speak, and how masterfully he directed. He 
 was grand. Chicago was glorious. And it was a moment when all 
 these facts required, utterly demanded, recognition, the earlier the 
 better, for the land was racked from end to end, was in great unrest 
 and need of guidance. Yes, Mr. Hanna was really grand. Chicago, 
 as ever and always in every trial, was glorious. There were all kinds 
 of wailings, deep-toned, long-drawn, almost piercing, and many fal- 
 
Mr. Mark Hanna, Chairman 21 
 
 tered but none fainted or fell by the wayside, for we had men of 
 courage then — and women too — as we have in this present time, 
 and everything came out all right. It always does. Courage, toujours 
 courage. 
 
 That was the campaign for sound money; the gold standard for 
 national currency against free silver coinage of 16 to 1 ratio, a tre- 
 mendous season, an absorbing question — yes and that other question, 
 reciprocity; and that other, the eternal woman question, and — well, 
 everything worked. Mr. Hanna had big plans, the only kind with 
 magic to stir men's blood, and he had a lot of them, and all his plans 
 worked. 
 
 In that vast enterprise, in that far-reaching, history-making, fret- 
 ful hour, Miss Duppler made her debut in Chicago a beginning at the 
 very center of affairs. She recognized the merits in her situation, 
 and she was "wonderful," yes, all along the way and always she has 
 been wonderful. 
 
 "He who lives the life shall know the doctrine." 
 
 Howbeit, a few of us knew that Mr. Hanna was none too eager for 
 women's participation in the momentous work then being mapped and 
 organized. No one blamed the great soul. It was an untried deal. 
 But he was game. He wondered just a little what the result would 
 be, about what was likely to follow. What could follow? Well, 
 haven't women always been followers? The women were unafraid; 
 they had nothing to lose whatever the result of the canvass. They 
 could and would, bide-a-wee. They knew how to do that. But they 
 did so want to work hard for themselves and for our country. 
 
 Mr. Hanna asked pointedly what we expected to gain, what it was 
 we hoped to accomplish, then listened. 
 
 This astute business man, a marvel to trained politicians of all 
 ranks, knew perfectly that woman's moral power, a fine asset of 
 itself, was not worth much as a civil instrument because not backed 
 by the ballot, the sole forceful instrument necessary to coin it into 
 law. Of course it was explained to him, during calls, hours of travail 
 in efforts to secure his recognition and that of his committee, to him 
 who had been for thirty years in Ohio politics, that Mrs. J. Ellen 
 Foster, President of the Women's National Republican association, 
 had a fine record for work for the betterment of women wage-earners, 
 and that these had influence among the men toilers. A primer lesson! 
 
 He was told of her help to the mill hands in New England, miners 
 in Pennsylvania, wearied East Enders who were always striking, and 
 
22 Our Own Lady 
 
 others. He knew all this, but listened to the overworked tale. It was 
 claimed that recognition of her work and that of her followers, was 
 the real reason for her presence by invitation, on the platform in the 
 Republican national convention in Minneapolis, with emphasis. He 
 was interested. It was said that her speech was the first that a 
 party woman or, rather, better said, a woman partisan, of national 
 reputation had made on their platform before one of their national 
 conventions. The point was made that William McKinley of Ohio, was 
 permanent chairman for that convention. It was a close-up of woman 
 as a politician if not a voter. The mention of that name. Women were 
 learning. Also his consideration was directed to the woman's "plank" 
 (before spoken of) in his own late convention platform, adopted at 
 St. Louis, where took place the nomination of his beloved McKinley, 
 on the first ballot, for Republican standard-bearer. 
 
 That woman's "plank" comprised the last paragraph in the plat- 
 form, was entitled "Rights of Women," and read: 
 
 "The Republican party is mindful of the rights and interests of women. Protec- 
 tion of American industries includes equal opportunities, equal pay for equal work, 
 and protection to the home. We favor the admission of women to wider spheres 
 of usefulness, and welcome their co-operation in rescuing the country from Demo- 
 cratic and Populist mismanagement and mis-rule." 
 
 A perfectly "safe" bit of political timber. 
 
 Almost we might as well have let go. But we were determined to 
 stand by. It was at that convention-time when Mr. Hanna was 
 signally honored with the chairmanship of his party's national com- 
 mittee, the president-making body in which he was a great figure. 
 None other has given so much lustre to that post, and to reverse the 
 clause none other ever has won so much from a chairmanship, or 
 garnered so much in power and distinction from the post. Mr. Hanna 
 was a born executive, with the disposition to cultivate his gift. His 
 one ambition was the election of William McKinley to the presidency. 
 His burning desire was to further the work for that consummation. 
 Nothing else in the world mattered. Mrs. Foster knew this. But she 
 was not the only knowing one near him or soon to be near him. Soon 
 he had appointed a great staff to carry on at the Chicago headquarters, 
 and it was a knowing lot of people. It is history that at a crowded 
 moment he was in great need of a secretary, preferably a smooth- 
 running human dynamo with brain capacity ; one who knew people and 
 how to become acquainted with more people; how to learn all about 
 them, where from, how connected, affiliations, reliability, how much 
 money, how much work, all, everything. It was urged that one must 
 
Mr. Mark Hanna, Chairman 23 
 
 not only know about everybody but must remember everybody and 
 all about them. Yes, remember. The function of that "remember" 
 is frequently recognized as tact. By whatever name, the possessor 
 of the elusive, priceless quality rates about one in a million. 
 
 A mighty worker, one utterly devoted to the "Old Man," head of 
 one of the big departments, the biggest one I seem to recall, as there 
 were many men under his direction, heard of the chief's dire need. 
 Quietly he entered the office and advised, "Mr. Hanna, the young 
 man you require for secretary, one cut out for your needs, can be 
 found in the shipping-room," and giving full name, retired. Shipping- 
 room! Knowing people! Imagine some more! 
 
 A great secretary was that hour started on his grand course; one 
 who never missed a click, or spared devotion; for several years he 
 served Mr. Hanna, business man, chairman, politician, senator, and 
 in the end reaching a high post for himself, a place he filled with 
 equal satisfaction to all, Mr. Elmer Dover, of gentle life, with common 
 good to all his honest thought. 
 
 So it owed to the woman's plank in the St. Louis platform, that 
 a woman's bureau became a feature in the campaign. Also a precedent 
 was established when the chairman appointed Mrs. Foster the nominal 
 head of women's work in that bureau in his Chicago headquarters; 
 this scribe as campaign secretary for the same; Miss Helen Varick 
 Boswell, (no relation), a fine speaker and ingratiating politician, then 
 well known as a newspaper woman in New York, as secretary in her 
 city's headquarters. Mr. Chairman's reservations were, that Mrs. 
 Foster do her speaking under the sole direction of his speakers' bureau, 
 not under the auspices of her Woman's Republican association, and 
 that the two journalists do all kinds of writing, under the direction of 
 his editors, for the newspapers and ready-print houses; he saw no 
 reason for confining their work to the reporting and recording of 
 women's work only. 
 
 These orders pleased us mightily and we listened. 
 
 We felt the Republicans and their wonderful chairman of their 
 president-making committee, must be, surely were, God's Own People, 
 nothing mystical about those three letters to us. Cabalistic motto! 
 Wah! 
 
 Then he sent his appointees on their several assignments, and as he 
 saw them scatter he appeared grateful that a hard job was finished, 
 one he had considered difficult. Truth to say it was all in the day's 
 work with him, for he had no easy jobs, as we well knew. 
 
 But before dismissing all thought of his woman's bureau and 
 appointments thereto, surely in the mind of this man's man, a jolly 
 
24 Our Own Lady 
 
 adventure, in a jocose moment, in the vein of a sure enough jester, 
 he was heard to remark to some of his confreres, that he had no doubt 
 at all, none, that she (Mrs. Foster) and her bureau would prove his 
 (their) white elephant. 
 
 Happily his woman's bureau never gave him cause for sorrow or 
 embarrassment. He never called on us, but we turned to him as to 
 one able to do the impossible, if it could be done. He asked questions 
 as to how we were accepted and in what manner we carried on, a 
 few times he sent snappy messages of appreciation, two or three times 
 helpful suggestions, and several times words of cheer, when the reports 
 were enlivening, as frequently they were. 
 
 Near the close of the work he received his Chicago staff and thanked 
 each worker personally for service so enthusiastically rendered, regard- 
 less of the number of hours in a working day, of who gave the orders. 
 In a little speech he declared that the memory of their utter devotion 
 and loyalty would be for always an inspiration to him, seemingly having 
 no thought that his own energy, glowing enthusiasm and amiability, 
 not to mention originality and resourcefulness, reacted on all about him. 
 
 It was a splendid season and proved fruitful. True, women had no 
 vote but were gaining all the time in popularity, nearest of kin to the 
 ballot; they could afford to be cheerful; they were full of hope. 
 
 Had Mr. Hanna lived until the ballot was won, he would have had 
 some pleasurable moments in the memory of their work, the justness 
 of their cause which he weighed when in place and power. Later 
 his cup would have been brimming in pride of their acquisition, enabling 
 his daughter Ruth Hanna McCormick, versed in public affairs beyond 
 all other women, to reach the forefront of political life in her country. 
 In experience and opportunities the daughter became opulent owing to 
 her association with, and assistance to, her liberal-minded father. 
 
 That great headquarters of wondrous action, its purport and per- 
 sonnel, daily broadened in interest and value to Bertha Duppler, her- 
 self an efficient and enlivening factor in it all. She saw everything, 
 met everybody, made friends by the scores, acquaintances by the hun- 
 dreds. The allure of her unusual career doubtless dawned there; a 
 time and place now looked upon by us all as the unusual theater, almost 
 revered, as the beginning of so many successful careers and its notable 
 and lasting friendships formed among the unusual personnel. 
 
 No one of that staff of 600 or more, but to this day cherishes the 
 memory of the unique period of association, its greatness, intense 
 interest, its cause so flaming, the uplift at times, thrill of enormity, 
 color, the atmosphere of kindliness and friendly personal interest; the 
 
Mr. Mark Hanna, Chairman 25 
 
 loyalty of them all toward each other makes indeed a handsome 
 record to preserve, as it affords cause for keen pleasure and peculiar 
 zest, when on occasion a few of them get together. On those occasions 
 our feelings are hallowed, as if we were celebrating in memory the 
 birth of a nation. 
 
 Tradition is important. Another name for history. 
 
A Marvellous Headquarters 
 v 
 
 "Achievement of whatever kind, is the crown of effort, the diadem 
 of thought." 
 
 Natural and pardonable vanity might have assured us of popularity 
 as political workers, giving credit to ability acquired in the battle 
 for the franchise then going on by enlightened women everywhere. 
 But there was no time for the cultivation of vanity or sentiment, for 
 we were in the first campaign in which official provision had been made 
 for women's work at national headquarters. Every ounce of our 
 energy must be used to secure members for the Woman's Republican 
 association, and to enlist workers for the Republican party's nominees. 
 A big job. 
 
 The McKinley-for-president campaign was on, and Mrs. Foster's 
 pet political band, the Woman's National Republican association must 
 grow up to the size of its name, and justify its appreciated recognition 
 for which she lately had worked so hard to secure. The place and 
 time of the genesis of our two careers, Bertha Baur's and that of 
 this writer, as of several others, were recognized as propitious. 
 
 Politicians from everywhere called on us; senators, governors, 
 representatives in congress and members of state assemblies, candi- 
 dates, also writers for everything published; salesmen for everything 
 invented or scheme devised; everyone with a bright idea; agitators 
 because they could talk; organizers because they knew how; special- 
 ists in every field of study or research; speakers from soap-box to the 
 doors-of-congress caliber; singers, song-writers, composers of marches 
 and songs of tribute, even dancers. Came all colors, many nationali- 
 ties, and many tongues. These anxious souls introduced themselves 
 or their wares, everything and every service offered as help to elect 
 Major McKinley and gallant Mr. Garret A. Hobart. It was a stressful 
 and illuminating season for us all, for the entire country, from any 
 border to another. 
 
 The closed mills appalled us; failing banks in their numbers startled 
 one; the unemployed everywhere contributed to an ominous situation, 
 there were armies of them; empty lunch pails; discomfort, discontent, 
 grumbling, and really much suffering. Truly a sixteen to one cam- 
 
 26 
 
A Marvellou s Headquarters 27 
 
 paign for us, as it seemed to present sixteen in need, to one with a 
 sufficiency, a far more distressful state than the thought of the coin- 
 age of gold and silver at that ratio, for one must live. 
 
 These conditions and the money question, the colossal effort made 
 and which was continued aggressively until the adoption of the gold 
 standard, comprised the dark situation. In accepting his nomina- 
 tion for the presidency, Mr. McKinley accepted the gold standard as 
 a party principle, and it was not until 1900 that gold was definitely 
 made the basis of our currency. 
 
 Sometime before the convention in St. Louis, and for several months 
 after, the whole nation was stirred as it rarely has been stirred. But 
 we always come out of such seasons of tumult and depression much 
 brighter and stronger, everyone in our nation, after a stirring time of 
 trial and tension; one which calls for careful effort, for deep searching 
 thought, and for denial, we seem to rise to full stature. Far out in 
 old ocean the deepest waves roll, they never reach the shore; the soul 
 of this nation, as fathomless, may never reach the sands, but it is 
 not less constant in its striving for the right, "as God gives us to 
 see the right," than old ocean's majestic roll. 
 
 That was a time that discovered many leaders, for there was so 
 much work to be done; and leaders were developed, excellent ones, 
 in all sorts of organizations all over the land, and set to work, to 
 which work they gave of their loyal best. And we, Bertha Duppler 
 and this writer, were at the forefront, on the firing line, really and 
 earnestly so, and giving of our best every hour of every day. All 
 of it we saw, a part of which we were, that is meant to read. Her 
 "Isn't it all perfectly wonderful here?" at the moment of our intro- 
 duction one to the other, shows how ready and penetrating she was 
 even at that early period. It was wonderful, truly so, a marvellous 
 time, one that utterly tried men's souls, a momentous struggle, stress- 
 ful to the brim. A test of government by the people. Our people 
 always patient and dependable, rose to the emergency and squarely 
 met every issue as always they have. 
 
 Realizing the stress and moil, lure and labor, as herein but faintly 
 given to know, all will agree that Bertha Baur's career flowered at a 
 favorable moment, in a fitting time. Hers a discerning and selective 
 insight at the very beginning; a facile quality for sifting and assign- 
 ing; for estimating personal values, was met by early opportunity, and 
 has continued in service. Few women have been more constantly in 
 action in all manner of contests and campaigns, popular or unpopular, 
 for in her activity she shares every kind of work and its responsibility. 
 One art to her unknown is idleness. 
 
28 Our Own Lady 
 
 A few lines of personal history given to Mr. Hanna, and known to 
 Mrs. Foster, covered the effort of the one appointed campaign secre- 
 tary in the woman's bureau, Chicago headquarters, McKinley-Bryan 
 contest. The short record covered a driving period in the business 
 and newspaper worlds; a government position through one adminis- 
 tration, lightly touched on the political experience usually acquired in 
 the two last mentioned; three years abroad, divided in travel and 
 study on the continent, and the business of publishing and organizing 
 in the London headquarters of the world's and British Women's Tem- 
 perance organizations, at their head as president, the Lady Henry 
 Somerset; followed some months with the Baroness de Broen, in 
 Paris and Belleville, France. The last named was the seat of the 
 Christian mission which she owned and directed. 
 
 A few years earlier the secretary had first seen and heard Mrs. 
 Foster in Chicago. The lady preached a fine sermon that morning 
 in the First M. E. Church, corner of Clark and Washington streets, 
 now the Chicago Temple. From its spire, so tall and slender gleams 
 the only elevated Cross of Jesus in the loop and it is striking; at night 
 it is peerless as an emblem among the city's galaxy of wondrous illumi- 
 nations. The ground on which the Temple stands was a gift from 
 the Dixon family, I seem to recall. The Dixons form an historic and 
 numerous clan in the world's fourth city, their head at this time, Mr. 
 George W. Dixon, stands rated and is looked upon by his fellows as a 
 singularly useful and a foremost citizen of no mean city. 
 
 To elaborate a little the report given to Mr. Hanna: The baroness 
 also had a mission in Paris, rue St. Honore, wherein the world of 
 travellers, persons of distinction, politicians and officials, rich and highly 
 placed in many countries, men and women, who, while en voyage, 
 enjoy rendezvous a Paris. Many of these came for teas, Bible read- 
 ings, to meet distinction, rank, culture at select receptions held for 
 them and in their honor. There the writer and Mrs. Foster met a 
 few times. It is a Paris not seen on the boulevards, in hotels, cafes, 
 in the Latin quarter, Montmartre, garrets, caves, etc. It was lovely 
 there. 
 
 The mission world is a broadening and helpful life to one who 
 enters into its spirit of friendliness, sanity and industry. The one in 
 Belleville was of another sort entirely; a place of abode as well as 
 for meetings of many kinds. (In that assembly hall what wondrous 
 meetings!) There lived some in retreat from the world, tired bodies 
 and wearied intellects in repose; a few near the border-land of mental 
 twilight from their unequal combat with the world; one or two of 
 
A Marvellous Headquarters 29 
 
 little interest; many kinds of people, a sort of kindly human junk, 
 almost derelicts; students, many creeds; Bible scholars; wearied trav- 
 ellers, saddened and sometimes broken politicians; reformers of every- 
 thing under the sun who had never known success except in their 
 failure; artists, writers, people from everywhere, a forlorn and nearly 
 foreign legion. Yet it was not a sad place and not a gay one, just 
 a tranquil inn, not so austere as a monastery, but no home atmos- 
 phere, no comradeship; it was a big house. Among the inmates but 
 little money, a good many books, never much speech, no questions; 
 some quiet games; all were neat in appearance, polite, respectful in 
 their association together. It was a quasi-cloistered provision evolved 
 by the soft-voiced, excellent Dutch woman who was qualified to pro- 
 vide for and to protect them in their self-imposed sequestration in the 
 great abode almost given over to them. She who was the Master of 
 the Inn had been startled into effort to help make the world a kinder 
 place, through witnessing quite by accident, some terrible punishments 
 meted out to the convicted five hundred humans shot into eternity, 
 who had been identified with the Paris Commune. 
 
 It was "wonderful" there, too. 
 
 The two years of experience, privilege and pleasure in a well-paid 
 post in England call for no elaboration. An American business woman 
 of gentle birth and with connections, would be expected to look upon 
 London as the whispering gallery of the world. Such it is. 
 
 With an open mind, a modicum of native ability, one so experienced 
 should be ready to grasp opportunity when met. So, in some pride of 
 record, confident of success should endurance hold, began the tre- 
 mendous work for the woman's bureau of the Republican National 
 committee, and in the dual place as secretary for the Woman's National 
 Republican association. 
 
 We were several busy women almost from the first day, busy from 
 morn till eve and sometimes almost from morn to morn, indeed almost 
 living de Coulevan's commentary, words that exactly fit that full 
 season: "It is a marvellous romance, the life one lives from morn- 
 ing to night, and from night to morning." 
 
 Such was our woman's bureau, a romance, truly. It was compli- 
 cated and interesting, and surely did not happen by any chance. 
 
 Ours was to introduce the Republican women's work, to make known 
 the woman's bureau as a feature of the campaign. There would 
 be another day, another afternoon, and we must make hay while the 
 sun was shining, for Mrs. Foster and her Republican women were 
 building for the future — and they builded well, indeed. The associa- 
 
30 Our Own Lady 
 
 tion grew in numbers and was loved by us all as a real Woman's 
 National Republican association under the patronage, with the endorse- 
 ment, as it were, of the Republican national committee. What more 
 could we ask? It all was stirring. And how we learned to hate, literally 
 to detest, long names or titles for committees, firms or associations, 
 or for anything else. The loss of time. What waste. 
 
Embroidered Petticoats 
 
 VI 
 
 "A mind courageous in every field of endeavor." 
 
 Some months after the close of the great campaign, Miss Duppler 
 entered the postal service as assistant-secretary to the then Chicago 
 Postmaster, Charles U. Gordon, a post never before given to a woman. 
 A little later this writer went on a mission to the postmaster, then in 
 the temporary postoffice building of two stories, on the rim of the 
 lake at the head of Washington street. His office entrance was from 
 an ordinary corridor leading from the public reception-room. That 
 plain, flat-looking building served the city's postal needs for about 
 nine years, and as unpretentious as it was, unstudied in appearance and 
 fitness, was by many considered most convenient in various features, 
 and adequate beyond belief. 
 
 The mission ended, and again entering the corridor, quite vacant 
 when I passed in, imagine the pleasure on seeing at her desk in the 
 narrow place, working away in great earnestness, the interesting young 
 girl for a time lost track of, Bertha E. Duppler. Followed a few 
 moments' visit and pleasure in the reunion. I felt grateful to have 
 had that errand. Never since havel "lost" Bertha Duppler Baur. 
 
 From 1897 to 1908 Miss Duppler was secretary to four postmasters 
 of Chicago. Under Mr. Gordon, successor to Mr. Washington Hesing, 
 as assistant-secretary, she continued to work in her little cubbyhole 
 of a corridor. The place was not of course perilous to her person, and 
 sometimes was enlivening to a degree. Women swishing silk petticoats, 
 wearing beautiful furs and pretty hats, going to call on or returning 
 from visiting the postmaster, never bothered to be a wee bit polite. 
 To be sure the rustling silks, shining furs and attractive millinery all 
 were regarded, as what piece of femininity ever disregarded such dec- 
 orations? The keen-eyed young woman sometimes wondered a little 
 at the airs, the absence of any show of politeness, and questioned her 
 friendly mind how such things could be. A few times when unusu- 
 ally impressed by the pleasure some appeared to derive from their 
 nice apparel and in its display, she indulged the hope that some day 
 she would have silk petticoats, furs and other finery. Surely such 
 prayers were pardonable in one so youthful, quite woman-like too, had 
 
 31 
 
32 Our Own Lady 
 
 she dreamed on occasion with Olive Schreiner's beautiful Lyndall. 
 One recalls how that little beauty of the "Farm" declared to her lov- 
 ing and enthralled Em: "I shall be very, very rich, and I shall wear 
 not only for best, but every day, a pure white silk with little rose- 
 buds; and my petticoats will be embroidered, not only at the bottom, 
 but all through." 
 
 With time came such possessions to Bertha, pretty things, costly 
 and shining ones for personal adornment, to gratify youth and pride, 
 not only fine apparel, furs and jewels hers for the choosing, but came 
 the fine home and appurtenances, and love dwelling therein. 
 
 Even so, when came that time those crashing garments were no 
 longer thought about, and some ladies were paying attention to the 
 point of cultivation, to the business-world woman they formerly had 
 not seen when at her post of duty and honor. Some there are who 
 never rise to the realization of the truth that the sympathies are the 
 best teachers of politeness and consideration. "As a man thinketh in 
 his heart so is he." The same truth applies exactly to women. 
 
 All past indifferences were forgiven, seemingly never an "air" was 
 remembered, the amiable woman always meeting the humblest who 
 approached her with a pleasant word. Wealth beyond the dreams of 
 princes, nor station, nor honors ever can spoil her manners or change 
 her kind heart. Blood will tell. 
 
 Succeeding Mr. Gordon as postmaster came Mr. Frederick E. Coyne, 
 a vacation appointment made by President McKinley in 1901, later on 
 again named by the new President, Mr. Roosevelt. This official was 
 splendid in his appreciation for the young secretary. He recognized 
 her as a fast-developing expert, now since some time under the civil 
 service law. At once she was given a nice place in the big reception- 
 room, and there at her great desk she continued as busy as a bee; busy 
 at her work and in her friendliness and courtesy towards all. Literally 
 she became acquainted with the world and his wife. A school of 
 polity and political art in one, was what Miss Duppler soon made of 
 that fine position. That fact was clear in the minds of all who knew 
 her. In this connection a statement is due, one expressed in sincerity 
 and admiration by many observing persons: always Miss Duppler 
 appeared appreciative of her place, her official position, her oppor- 
 tunities, and on proper occasions she expressed that regard and appre- 
 ciation, and always showed her loyalty. She seemed to realize as not 
 many appeared to do, the possibilities of that position. If in all the 
 world there was one who could or would unerringly do so, that person 
 
Embroidered Petticoats 33 
 
 was embodied in Miss Duppler; she of all persons would do so. She 
 was blessed with the brain for careful reasoning and the forward idea, 
 prescience is a better term. Her position was an enviable one. 
 
 It is truth that no other division of government affords the facility 
 to make acquaintance with men and their affairs, to know the bigness 
 of the world, comparable with the postoffice department, the real 
 democratic arm of government. A mercurial thought is, who wrote the 
 first letter, to whom and in what time? How carried and in what 
 country? A romance unrevealed in the popular service of letters, 
 their transportation, and its raison d'etre. One sees in a far time the 
 beginning of road building, a line of present-time industry in which 
 Mrs. Baur has had a hand, some wonder to relate, in her own State 
 of Illinois. Not post roads to be sure, and not chemin des dames, nor 
 for el camino real, but good, hard roads to keep Dobbin out of the 
 black mud, for automobile speed in safety for pleasure, to go places, 
 or for commerce of all kinds.. 
 
 A long time ago in Ireland, the wailing place of women whose tra- 
 ditions blaze great deeds of queens and Amazons, marked also by 
 religious glory, one of the best women of her time made most of pre- 
 paring highways and erecting bridges, along with her church-building, 
 making of mass books and other things profitable to serve her God 
 and country. The great Lady Margaret exercised her happy privilege 
 many years before America's discovery. 
 
 Practical work for a lady, and as necessary in these ringing days 
 of rush and flight, as were the efforts of mighty Louis XI to estab- 
 lish post roads and postoffices in his beloved France also many, many 
 years before our country was made known to the world. 
 
 Regardless of enjoyment in historical speculation and longing to 
 trace from its beginnings a popular service, one knows perfectly that 
 it was a fine post Miss Duppler held, that of Secretary to the Post- 
 master of Chicago, as duly she had been promoted from the assistant 
 secretaryship. She knew all the officials, every clerk and a battalion 
 of the carriers, as she knew a majority of the county and city officials, 
 not to mention men and women farther afield, as in banking, the law, 
 and an ever widening circle of politicians, state and national. 
 
 Miss Duppler was of inestimable value to Mr. Coyne, who was a 
 great official, sterling citizen, an ingratiating politician whose friends 
 appeared to be legions. 
 
 Near the plain, old, temporary postoffice on the lake front, one of 
 the Coyne chain of coffee-shops was in operation, wherein good, clear 
 and piping-hot coffee, with rich cream, fine rolls, butter and other 
 
^4 Our Own Lady 
 
 goodies were served for a small price. It was greatly appreciated by 
 the army comprising the postoffice staff. In that neat shop Bertha 
 and this scribe had some good lunches together over which to gossip 
 and display friendly interest in the welfare of each other; and on a 
 few occasions just as expensive ones in "Kohlsaat's" on Washington 
 street near away from the court house, the place of this tattler's 
 endeavors. Once it is remembered, we had in "Kohlsaat's" a pot of 
 beans between us, for which little ration we each paid from our small 
 earnings the sum of five cents. These were good lunches, and those 
 were great days in our histories. On one of the festive occasions just 
 remarked, presented the necessity of borrowing thirty cents from the 
 always helpful friend Bertha, for fares, were the hapless borrower not 
 soon to be without shoes, not to mention feet. The sum and a few 
 other debts of like proportions, were repaid at the end of two weeks. 
 Precarious times, those. 
 
 At the mention of beans, there is recalled an errand made close to 
 lunch hour, to one of the holdover offices, for the closing up of the 
 odds and ends of the great campaign which had lately ended. Unre- 
 lieved and occupied with the winding up of all affairs of the erstwhile 
 great headquarters and staff, were Messrs. Dawes, Brown, Col. Rand, 
 Dr. Wing and one or two others; also Miss Duppler and Miss Banta 
 had been retained to assist in the windup. There were noticed a pan 
 of beans on a radiator and near by a box of strawberries. The young 
 women were placing sandwiches and an assortment of cups on an 
 office table, someone pouring hot coffee into the cups as placed. 
 
 These remaining members of the great staff now of the past, would 
 pool their small monies for lunches, and for one of the needs send 
 Francis J. Kilkenny, the efficient and amiable Irish office boy (now a 
 successful investment broker in La Salle street, Chicago), to a nearby 
 department store, to buy for them two cents' worth of cream. His- 
 tory records that the purveyor of cream finally tired of the small busi- 
 ness or of Francis' genial smile, and said that he could no longer sell 
 two cents' worth of cream, it was not good business, whereupon the 
 saddened Francis let him pour it back and returned to the office to 
 tell the grave story. Bertha forthwith poured their coffee into the 
 creamy can which slightly bleached it, for nothing, while joking about 
 saving the two pennies for butter for their morrow. 
 
 At about this time it was evident there was in the office only enough 
 work for one of the young women. What was to be done about it? 
 There were two women serving in the place where only one should 
 be employed. Mr. William G. Dawes did not wish to show parti- 
 ality, so ended the matter of surplus employees by saying: 
 
Embroidered Petticoats 35 
 
 "There is work for only one, and you will have to throw pennies to 
 decide which one is going to remain." A bombshell! And such hard 
 times! 
 
 Miss Duppler, who knew nothing at all about throwing pennies,. v on 
 the instant decided to go without lunch that day and spend her hour 
 in learning how to match pennies. She needed the job and must try 
 for it, even though like two captains of football teams, they must 
 make choice, heads or tails and throw pennies to decide the match for 
 the position. It was a lively, a portentious season for one young girl 
 of the late great Republican headquarters' staff. An unexpected ges- 
 ture. But she learned the game of matching pennies, nor stood on the 
 order of doing so. She wanted "heads" to win in the contest of one 
 throw, in what was a perfectly fair game, of course. Quickly enough 
 the post was hers. Believe it or not. 
 
 A few weeks later she took the civil service examination for an ap- 
 pointment in the postomce, with the result about which we know. 
 
 Years later, in an hour of "looking backward" during a visit to- 
 gether in her nonesuch cottage on Green Bay road, Highland Park, 
 were recalled those days of so little money, our high hopes, along 
 with our makeshifts, warming the beans on the office radiators, taking 
 coffee from tincups, various ten-cent lunches, small loans and other 
 like gaieties, not forgetting the necessity for learning to match pennies. 
 
 The hostess ended by remarking: "Yes, we warmed the beans and 
 sent out for coffee, as a necessity, if we were to have warm lunches. 
 We all were too poor to go out for our lunches." 
 
 Mention of Mr. Dawes as being among the last of the workers, is 
 to recall the foremost of that remarkable family, Gen. Charles G. 
 Dawes, also a directing power at the great headquarters, as being 
 among the foremost of them all who worked for Major William 
 McKinley for president. His gesture, made among the efficient Illi- 
 nois delegation to the St. Louis convention, himself one of them, always 
 has been considered a brilliant act, to many the dominating one that 
 gave the nomination to the major on the first ballot, in that history- 
 making assembly. After taking his high position it was not long until 
 the new president sent in the name of Mr. Dawes as the desired 
 appointee for Comptroller of the Currency. After a few years in 
 that post Mr. Dawes resigned and proceeded to organize the Central 
 Trust Company of Illinois, in Chicago, which great institution has 
 achieved two vast consolidations, at the present time becoming the 
 Central Republic Bank and Trust company. The bank which has 
 for long been unofficially termed the Dawes bank, numbers among its 
 personnel some other members of the Dawes family, known for their 
 
36 Our Own Lady 
 
 ability. It is a notable family, many of the members' accomplishments 
 revealed and energies expended in numerous fields besides banking, 
 including war, politics, business, world's fairs, national budget-making 
 for home government, international adjustments of reparations, diplo- 
 macy and so on. At the end of two years of service in the World 
 war, came his election to the Vice-President's office on the ticket with 
 President Coolidge. Four years later and soon after becoming Presi- 
 dent, Mr. Hoover invited General Dawes to serve as his ambassador 
 at the Court of St. James's, which invitation was accepted with fitting 
 expressions of appreciation for the honor. 
 
Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman 
 
 VII 
 
 I count this thing grandly true, 
 That a noble deed is a step toward God. 
 — John G. Holland. 
 
 There is a pretty book entitled My Chicago, by Miss Anna Morgan, 
 wherein its author explains why it is her Chicago. All the actors figure 
 as her acquaintances, friends, associates, comrades, members of her 
 family, her loved ones. 
 
 It reveals an inspiring connection, and that Miss Morgan loves her 
 Chicago. Many items of her city's history are delightful contributions. 
 
 This intimate statement from a fellow-author inspires the same nature 
 of mention in so far that this small history-sketch is about its writer's 
 Bertha Baur; the friend as seen in many surroundings, as known and 
 studied in association, and with never a thought of the grande dame 
 of the great world of society, where everybody is just like everybody 
 else in their diversions, splurge and conventions. To be sure she is 
 a woman of the world, and just as surely let us have it, even though 
 she is — well a cat may look at a queen? I guess so. 
 
 However, a careful checking on our association discloses that the 
 measure has not really been so intimate or close as might naturally be 
 taken to be the case, although as constant as the North Star. 
 
 The acquaintance came after our days of doll-rags, hoop-rolling, 
 skipping-rope. At the time neither of us had so much as a trinket- 
 box, not to mention trinkets of a farthing's value, to visit over, to show 
 and appraise, the rich experience that lingers so long in the memory 
 of sweet girlhood days, to help memory as to how and when and in 
 what doing, the possessors of such trinkets became acquainted. The 
 writer's first personal treasure, a tiny book, for which, with consider- 
 able business acumen in one aged six, had been traded a big red 
 apple, and the small tome was at once clothed in a butcher-paper 
 cover, carefully etched by an uncertain, untrained little hand, as the 
 cover had been torn off. It consisted of sixteen pages and two excel- 
 lent wood-cuts. At seven she could read its every word, a sad little 
 mission story, studied out and re-read often while hiding under a 
 curtained bed, to escape caring for the baby for always there was a 
 
 37 
 
38 Our Own Lady 
 
 baby to mind. At hand this moment lies the tiny book, cherishing 
 between its yellowed leaves a carte de visite on the back of which is 
 written in ink: "To dear — , Egypt's key of happiness, and may it 
 be her key to Heaven — for she has done so much on earth to earn 
 it.— Bertha D. Baur."* 
 
 Bertha's keepsake at the time of our acquaintance was a small 
 saucer belonging to her favorite set of play dishes. At the table on 
 the occasion of her wedding supper in Highland Park, she had her 
 waiter serve her a glass of water on this precious little keepsake-tray. 
 Never has there been another like her in the love of making poetic 
 pictures in happy scenes, or applying treasured memories of souvenirs 
 to associations. At this time that tiny, historic saucer is among her 
 greatly prized treasures in her dear home. 
 
 Whatever the measure of association during the long-standing friend- 
 ship, there remains for always and forever, that full moment when out 
 of the night of despair, courage revived, as it sometimes does with 
 unconquerable souls. The clasp of a friendly hand, clear-seeing eyes, 
 a heart-prompted act of deliverance in a moment of a real crisis. "In 
 the fell clutch of circumstance," Bertha Baur's unhesitating aid wrested 
 the entrance to another sphere of life for a bewildered soul. Since 
 that moment when her help took practical form, all through the inter- 
 vening years, her life and activities have been like unto a silver thread 
 running through the fabric of the life of this teller of tales. 
 
 Nothing is stronger or more beautiful than the sentiment of friend- 
 ship. Just as the spoken word is the symbol of thought, so is the 
 desire for friendship proof of human insufficiency. How devoutly the 
 troubled spirit craves a word of loyalty from a friend or loved one. 
 The friendship of Bertha Baur and this writer has flourished unmis- 
 takenly; no matter as to long absence for seasons; months without 
 greetings; long residence in other parts; voyages to and through other 
 lands; no matter about any sort of interruptions, the continuity never 
 has known impairment, a record one almost knows not how to believe 
 true. 
 
 "Tell me," urged Mrs. Browning to Charles Kingsley, "the secret 
 of your life, that I may make my own larger and more beautiful." 
 
 The simple response of the great master of English literature was, 
 "I had a friend." 
 
 Very early in her life the subject of this tale appears to have "hitched 
 
 ♦Anticipating a story of the happy wedding trip, and the trinket brought from 
 the land of the Pharoahs, presented in person on a certain birthday, to be told 
 about later on. 
 
Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman 39 
 
 her wagon to a star," as it appears that fortune and the world's high 
 regard have continually attended her, and that her progress has been 
 constantly, if not upward, very certainly forward. During the years, 
 tragedy, loss and failure again and again have dogged the writer's 
 course. Through much of it there has been a friend: defeat is not yet. 
 From Stevenson's strong line in his hopeless invalidism, "No one is 
 useless while he has a friend," one takes heart of courage. 
 
 This story would be true, but not all the truth, were the facts left 
 untold that in the darkest hours of a stressful life the curtain letting 
 in the light was rolled back by the capable hands of Bertha Duppler 
 Baur, on one appalling event dissipating the conviction that nothing 
 remained but rest on the floor of Lake Michigan. She did not know the 
 awful depth and black despair of the monstrous situation, its utter 
 hopelessness, but she sensed instinctively that it was the moment in a 
 clouded life that called for instant action. One moment she took for 
 decision, just one instant, then reaching for hat and jacket on a peg 
 near her desk, commanded: "Come along; together we will see what 
 can be done," and arm in arm we passed out into snow, cold and slush, 
 a typical dark and forbidding Chicago winter day. By truth in state- 
 ment, manner of speech and arresting earnestness, she conquered the 
 gripping case, one utterly damnable in every respect. Only gratitude 
 ever could be returned for the mastery of that stressful forenoon's 
 distraught hour. Literally, Miss Duppler came in this one's life after 
 all others had passed out of it, the act that spells friendship and deserves 
 admiration, interest, gratitude. 
 
 Some years ago a Paris newspaper seeking the best definition for 
 the word "friendship" in a contest that aroused wide interest, accepted 
 that beautiful definition, "That one who comes in when all others have 
 passed out," and for it paid the prize money of five thousand francs. 
 
 Bertha Baur's sympathy is the golden key which opens a heart of 
 courtesy. 
 
 General Abel Davis, a useful citizen and man of affairs, "the gentle- 
 man in word and deed," the only one who listened to her, others had 
 not been interested, gave the courtesy and consideration that distin- 
 guished the gentleman, and a position, saying as if to hearten them 
 both, "She may begin work now if you wish." 
 
 Both beneficents were surprised by the quick reply, "Not today, 
 please, but on Monday." It was Friday and the thirteenth, but that 
 was not the reason for the play for time, but fear that endurance 
 would not hold. They could not know, could not divine that three 
 full days had afforded but one meal. It had been provided after a 
 five-mile walk and consisted of two cooked leeks and a roll, by one 
 
40 Our Own Lady 
 
 almost as nearly beggared as her guest, owing to so many relatives 
 and proteges. That feast was followed by a cup of limpid tea on 
 arriving at the bare place called home. Nothing of this could be told 
 them, besides a small loan made a week before was still owing to 
 Bertha. 
 
 With any kind of work secured one could borrow a little on which 
 to live and for fares, but the little did not prevent headaches. A 
 few times the "girls" wishing to be friendly, shared a cup of tea or 
 a sandwich from their lunch board. Soon a keen-eyed superintendent 
 thought "Some money to tide over till pay day might be acceptable," 
 and it was; also she suggested "Hot tea and warm lunches likely 
 would stop those headaches." A correct diagnosis. 
 
 "O God ! that bread should be so dear, 
 And flesh and blood so cheap." 
 
 The Lady Henry Somerset, English reformer, finished writer and 
 speaker, was "discovered" in a moment of almost such humane service 
 as the one, the telling of which, distinguishes this chapter. Some- 
 times she was termed by friends, of course not wearers of the purple, 
 "a white blackbird," for her life abounded with kind deeds and warm 
 charity. By hosts she was considered unique in the history of her 
 class. 
 
 This writer once asked an acquaintance who was close to her lady- 
 ship, knew all about her work, her goings and comings, what trait 
 it was or what the work she performed, how she accomplished it, that 
 so endeared her to her great following? There could be no doubt about 
 that devotion, especially in tribute from the lowly. What had she 
 done and what doing that was so arresting, so helpful, besides giving 
 rather freely from her colossal wealth? It was greatly desired to 
 know by one of the editors who had commissioned her story, how it 
 was that she, a peeress of England, had reached such eminence in 
 the world of reform, and among all classes. 
 
 The one questioned, after some moments, as if considering the 
 propriety of answering, replied: "I first saw Isabel (Isabel Carolyn, 
 the Lady Henry Somerset nee Somers) on her knees kindling a fire 
 in the grate in one of the barest, coldest, most hopeless rooms in the 
 most hopeless slum in poorest London, Ho warm up a bit' for one not 
 long for this world." 
 
 Instantly recalling to mind the happy introduction of her ladyship 
 to the American public by a foremost American, during the first visit 
 
Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman 41 
 
 made by the English peeress to these shores, the thought was that the 
 highest placed person in Christendom could in happiness and pride 
 introduce to the world one with that quality of charity, one of what- 
 ever wealth and learning found in such service. To this add the 
 countless charities and gifts of service of that woman Shaftesbury; 
 almost limitless they were, as was her wealth. 
 
 Bertha Baur as well knows how to be a friend; how to light the 
 hearthfires, and as well how to fan the glow. She has had practice; 
 she has been poor but is no longer so, and it can be said of her in 
 all truth as of the great Corsican, she never forsakes a friend or forgets 
 a favor. 
 
 Therefore this helper of so many, tried in many ways deserves to 
 be talked about in pleasant terms; to be written about with considera- 
 tion, both owing to her own proper self-love, self-respect, unsullied 
 name, and as a pattern for others coming after who may meet like 
 circumstances in life's cycle. 
 
 Miss Duppler had in one way then in another furnished considerable 
 copy for the newspapers. Always she has been approachable by the 
 fraternity of printing ink; her friendly understanding and sense of 
 values have stood to her good in this respect. 
 
 Not long before the moving from the old temporary city postoffice on 
 the lake front, to the new federal building on Adams street, so long 
 in course of construction, about six years, she accepted an official 
 invitation at the hand of Mr. Fernando Jones, chairman, to plant the 
 first tree in Grant Park, the occasion to be one of some ceremony. 
 The occasion was twice notable in the record of her life: First, she 
 was planting the first tree in a new park in a great city as a public 
 ceremony; second, it was the first occasion on which she had ever made 
 a speech. Always of a sympathetic nature, her maiden public utterance, 
 after her greatly enjoyed planting, was the hope as she expressed it, that 
 the tree would "flourish and one day shelter some poor, weary soul." 
 
 After the tree-setting ceremony, Mr. Fernando Jones told Miss 
 Duppler a story from his exhaustless fund of stories. Since she was 
 interested in postal affairs, this one was about the man in Boston, 
 Mass., who wrote a letter to Mr. Jones, using an envelope whereon was 
 printed a return address. It read: Joseph Gray, P. O. Box 365, 
 Boston, Mass. This struck Mr. Jones as a fine show of enterprise on 
 the part of his Boston friend. Whereupon, having in mind the future 
 of Chicago, and not to be outdone by his friend, he hastened to the 
 village printing shop and had five envelopes printed, bearing his request, 
 reading: Return in 30 days to Fernando Jones, P. O. Box 468, 
 
42 Our Own Lady 
 
 Chicago, Illinois. The number used by Mr. Jones was much larger 
 than that of the Bostonian. Chicago always has had that brand of 
 loyalty, beginning with her earliest days. 
 
 The tree-planting and all about it was made into history by the 
 ubiquitous newspeople, everyone of them endowed with Mr. Jones' 
 brand of loyalty. 
 
 A little later came a moment in the young woman's history in which 
 she stood forth as few women ever are likely to do. It will be realized 
 in the telling by those reading for the first time of her hazard, and by 
 those who recall to memory the accomplishment in the face of that 
 hazard, Bertha Baur has great physical courage along with her deter- 
 mination, as well as several other kinds, moral, political and so on. 
 
 Miss Duppler learned that the old temporary city postoffice building 
 was to be turned over to a wrecking company within a few days. 
 Instantly she determined that the flag, such as it was, must not go with 
 it, and decided to rescue the tattered remnant still flying, its colors 
 almost obliterated by the elements, its field alone intact, the remainder 
 a few frayed ribbons of the stripes, and that the big, bright and lovely 
 flag she had put there. Yes, she had put that flag there and she would 
 rescue it. 
 
 And so it was, that on the afternoon of February 17th, 1906, Miss 
 Bertha E. Duppler, Secretary to the Postmaster, climbed over the 
 ice-and-snow-clad roof of the old building, and took it, halyards and 
 all, from the tottering flagstaff. 
 
 Every step over the sloping roof, though not a steep one, was fraught 
 with danger owing to treacherous ice and snow loosened by the sun's 
 warmth. One false step and she would have fallen and perhaps been 
 dashed to death on the pavement. A double hazard owed to the wind 
 catching and binding her skirts tightly and impeding her progress. 
 
 Her intention quite unknown, she entered the old building during 
 the lunch hour, explaining her mission to the guard, who offered to get 
 the flag himself. 
 
 She answered him, "No, no, I put it there, and I will take it down. 
 I wish to do so." 
 
 Then she went up a rickety ladder to the roof, whereon the sight of 
 a young woman instantly attracted a crowd to the old pile. All kinds 
 of vehicles choked the highway. Policemen called to her to come 
 down; men and women shouted to her, warning of her danger. She 
 turned to look for a moment at the crowd, smiled and took up her slow 
 journey, cautiously ascending the long incline, carefully picking every 
 step. A few times she turned about as if to reassure the crowd, and 
 
Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman 43 
 
 once, when near the pole, she slipped back a little. The crowd yelled 
 and men ran nearer to the building hoping to catch her or break her 
 force, if she fell. Her balance gained with effort, she turned again 
 and waved, made a final effort for the staff and reached it. With arms 
 about it she rested a few moments, then untied the halyards and drew 
 down the remains of "Old Glory." Steadying herself against the pole, 
 she waved the tattered ensign a few times, while the crowd below 
 cheered her dash and pluck. Carefully picking her way back across 
 the slippery roof, then down, she carried the relic to the new federal 
 building to be preserved in memory of the old lake front postoffice so 
 long in service. 
 
 The rescued remnant was of that splendid banner hauled to the top 
 of the staff by the same intrepid young woman about two years before, 
 at which time the Flag association had made protest to Postmaster 
 Coyne against the old emblem that had for so long floated over the 
 building. And so it is that we make history. 
 
 One to whom was related the stirring event, or who had read about 
 it in the newspapers, wherein the story of rescue and danger suitably 
 embellished had appeared, remarked: 
 
 "It is Bertha, exactly. As a small child in her home in Indiana, she 
 made her first fame with the flag. Hearing drum and bugle approach- 
 ing, she quickly grasped a small flag that happened to be near her and 
 dashing in great glee to a window, waved and waved her little banner 
 to the strains of the music. This brought great cheering in response 
 to the small patriot's enthusiasm, to which she made a sweeping curtsey, 
 flaring her diminutive skirts in perfect form, that brought more cheers." 
 
 Of a truth the Bavarians are a gay and graceful folk, proud, music- 
 loving and dramatic. They must give, must have expression, and they 
 enjoy life. This is the main note in Bertha's love for the butterfly, 
 for its life, though so brief, is one of utter joyousness. In this connec- 
 tion, however, I think it can be stated there is in the family a legend, 
 though I fear me it may partake of a secret one, as of Psyche, the 
 beautiful nymph so loved by Cupid, the maiden chosen as the emblem 
 of the human soul, transposed in the butterfly form, regarded as a 
 symbol of immortality by the ancient Germans. In any case Mrs. 
 Baur will sometime write a little book about the butterfly. This she has 
 promised some friends and the statement appeared in print, to the 
 pleasurable anticipation of those who read every word she writes and 
 prints. 
 
 It is permissible to give here, as about the last reference to be made 
 to the pretty symbol in this story, the symbol so often mentioned 
 
44 Our Own Lady 
 
 when Mrs. Baur's name is used, the significance generally being without 
 any definition, a little piece by a writer-caller at her home, on the 
 subject, trusting that the friendly infringement will be pardoned, the 
 more that the name of the writer was not supplied me: 
 
 "To ring the doorbell of Mrs. Baur's smart home in Astor street one 
 presses a button held by a wrought iron butterfly, beautifully poised. 
 The glass panel in the door is curtained by an embroidered pattern in 
 the same motif. The telephone booth has a butterfly painted on the 
 wall over the legend, 'June, 1922,' the date of her taking possession 
 of the house, wherein one fiYids butterflies on lampshades, picture 
 frames, woven in rugs, towel borders, as cup handles, holders of table 
 place-cards, furniture pulls, card trays, etc. Noting these lovely, serene 
 symbols everywhere, and not knowing Mrs. Baur, one wonders if the 
 butterfly represents her character. 
 
 "To some the little creature is a symbol of a dolce far niente exis- 
 tence. But to meet and talk with her, if only for a few minutes, one 
 instantly realizes that she is not a butterfly as that word is usually 
 accepted. She has gay moments, if these are butterfly characteristics, 
 as well as something of the busy bee in her nature. She does not flit, 
 too light a word for her enchanting travels, and is not fanciful, though 
 gay, light-hearted and always busy, but generally serene. 
 
 "She has the faculty of enjoying all that surrounds her, of seeing 
 everything, and in her early youth, she possessed all, everything, for 
 instead of bricks and steel, cement and glass, she saw the rainbows and 
 pots of gold, and felt within herself the power later displayed; but 
 always her picture of the future was happy and of rose hue." 
 
 In the new postoffice building Miss Duppler came into her own. 
 That date was in October, 1905. Her devotion, study, ability to do 
 so many things and to do them all with enthusiasm and surety, brought 
 merited reward. Mr. Coyne approved of her work, regarded her 
 ability, and gave her every opportunity. In return she gave him, and 
 the work for which he was responsible, of her best. She could do no 
 other; always she has given of her best, whatever the role. She 
 believes "nothing is good enough, nothing well enough done unless it 
 is one's best." 
 
 Some time earlier than this period she decided to enlarge her work. 
 Starting her career as a commercial stenographer, knowing of no other 
 way, she had soon found the tasks too purely mechanical for one of 
 her genius. There recurs to mind a talk we had concerning this about 
 the mid-time of her years in the old temporary postoffice. It is in 
 memory, even to this time, that she used the words "too purely 
 
Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman 45 
 
 mechanical." Her resolve at that moment was to study and think on 
 going higher, to a place of directing, one of execution. That meant 
 that she would do so and that she would begin at that moment, all 
 readable instantly in her speech and earnest, determined manner. She 
 had been thinking. On leaving, after a pleasant little chat, the visitor 
 almost thought aloud, "This young woman will go far. Hers will be 
 an inspiring career, no doubt about it." 
 
 On looking back in time it seems that it was very soon that she was 
 able to demonstrate not only in technical skill, but in application of 
 careful thought and reasoning, growing interest, if that were possible. 
 Applying these qualities to her duties in hand, and expanding on the 
 main subject of possibilities in her situation, naturally as would follow, 
 she enhanced her usefulness. Almost one could see her grow, feel her 
 will to do, her fitness to direct, ability to reach the front. Her powers 
 were in full sway, she was in control of her awakened self, her stride 
 was that of grasping and mastering every detail of any matter requiring 
 her attention. With the habit of application came quickly the faculty 
 of concentration, and these speedily developed into executive power, 
 enhancing her value as a practical worker; her reputation for knowing 
 how was established. In this self-given training and her pleasure in 
 achieving, her fine enthusiasm for her work and its mastery, is owing 
 her ability to carry such great burdens and discharge her responsi- 
 bilities with such ease and thoroughness. Action and application, 
 ambition and success never have had acquaintance with impossible. 
 
 About this time came on the scene Mr. George Bruce Cortelyou, 
 lately chairman of the Republican national committee, and at the time 
 of entrance into this narrative, was Postmaster-General of the United 
 States. Before this rank he had occupied the chair of the secretary of 
 commerce at the President's cabinet table. Before these dignities of 
 being twice called to serve in the President's cabinet, he had been 
 secretary to Presidents Cleveland, McKinley and Roosevelt. 
 
 These two gentlemen, Postmaster-General Cortelyou and Postmaster 
 Coyne, realized that Miss Duppler's work was far above the usual 
 quality, and they appreciated her value to the department, and to 
 Chicago's postal service. After this recognition notable promotion was 
 not long deferred ; her salary was accordingly increased, and then again, 
 until eventually she became the most highly paid woman in the United 
 States postal service. A deserved recognition and earned recompense. 
 
 Always reward attends one who tries as hard as Miss Duppler tried. 
 
 These outstanding facts, and others unmentioned, frame the career of 
 this unusual woman, an utterly attractive career, and disclose how it 
 
46 Our Own Lady 
 
 was that she achieved her standing, a question that has beeen asked of 
 me by many. The world now knows that it all came from the knowl- 
 edge acquired by persistence, diligence, application and devotion which 
 spell " knowing-how." There was, of course, ambition as before noted. 
 
 Any newly appointed official found her the one inexhaustable source 
 of information concerning the office; and in the absence of a postmaster 
 she practically acted in that capacity, holding the reins of the country's 
 second largest office and finding no problem too difficult. Miss Duppler 
 deserved the appointment to the office of Chicago postmaster, a post 
 not yet held by any woman. 
 
 In time her ability was demonstrated for all to see, to know about, 
 and happily became generally and suitably acknowledged. In time, 
 also, the Republicans mounted their high steeds, as sometimes is their 
 wont, and in the stampede to show "recognition," by the power of 
 patronage, hateful word, Mr. Fred A. Busse was made postmaster. 
 Those who knew the first "Fred" could never quite understand the 
 whyfors of the change. Mr. Busse, a native Chicagoan, had served two 
 terms in the lower house and two as senator in the Illinois Assembly, 
 and in 1902 became state treasurer. He was appointed to succeed Mr. 
 Coyne in 1906, and in April, 1907, resigned as postmaster on achieving 
 his election as Chicago's first four-year mayor. Imbued with all local 
 interests, politically knowing, and popular as a politician, Mr. Busse 
 appeared to be well liked. But Mr. Coyne was the better known in 
 the city, was also highly esteemed and had been an excellent post- 
 master. His work had raised the Chicago postoffice to the Special 
 Division rank, meaning an equal with New York. He had served a 
 four-year term as internal revenue collector, Chicago, as a McKinley 
 appointee, before becoming the city's postmaster, to whom fell the 
 enormous task of moving from the old lake front, which had served 
 nine years, to the fine new federal building. This was carried out 
 without a moment's confusion or halt in the business, and the new 
 postoffice was quickly and efficiently organized. Mr. Coyne had a 
 splendid west side home, great interests in the life of his city, its clubs, 
 politics and commercial welfare. His heart's best efforts were for the 
 welfare of his superior family, considerations unrecognizable by poli- 
 ticians in all times — in common parlance, clothe politics in a personality 
 and the result is nothing more or less than a highjacker. 
 
 Not long after Mr. Busse became postmaster he fell a victim in a 
 railroad wreck, and was brought home almost in pieces. For long he 
 lay a cripple in his mother's home on Sedgwick street. Then it was, 
 for all practical purposes, that Miss Duppler was postmaster of 
 
Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman 47 
 
 Chicago. For some time she called daily at her chief's home with 
 letters and reports, to consult with him, even taking dictation from the 
 injured official when he became fit, and to cheer him and his family in 
 the misfortune. 
 
 Within a few months Mr. Busse was presiding in the new city hall 
 as His Honor, the first citizen of his native Chicago. 
 
 Many in the work-a-day world, especially business women from high 
 to not so high in positions, were on tip-toe in wonder if Miss Duppler 
 would transfer from the handsome postoffice, in which she was an 
 outstanding figure, to the splendid new city hall. All knew that Mr. 
 Busse was impressed by her ability as an official, and as an expert 
 politician, as well as by her unflagging industry. He valued her 
 services highly as he appreciated her rather unusual understanding 
 and adaptability, estimating that she would travel far in whatever line 
 she might choose to expend her endeavors. 
 
 But Miss Duppler did not choose to go to the city hall; had not for 
 one moment considered such a change; the place in the federal service, 
 and under civil service, was one far more to her liking and taste, a 
 position far more so than could be any post in the City Hall for one 
 of her quality, unless it were that of mayor, and Bertha Baur is, and 
 was then, entirely equal to the requirements to meet that position. 
 But no such fortune awaits Chicago, at the hand of Lady Luck. 
 
 A city noted for so many features of worth and main, an unrivalled 
 center, laboring under all sorts of unlovely charges, such as corruption, 
 duplications, serious problems of government, could do nothing greater 
 than vote such a citizen at its head. It is not likely that Mrs. Baur 
 would take the post, really as unlikely as that she should some day 
 become president of the New China, the problems of the two places 
 having some resemblance. Yes, Chicago and the New China. The 
 present-time mayor, Mr. Cermak, will doubtless bear out this testimony 
 from the fact of his staggering responsibilities lately assumed. 
 
 Mr. Daniel A. Campbell succeeded Mr. Busse in the big government 
 building. In course of time the distinction of announcing Miss 
 Duppler's engagement and approaching marriage fell to that gentleman 
 and his wife. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell were charming in their perform- 
 ance of the happy role. The felicity of introducing Mr. Baur, long a 
 Chicagoan, to Miss Duppler, fell to Mrs. Cooke, wife of Captain 
 Alexander Cooke. This event was followed by romantic associations 
 and a happy courtship, in due course promising in every particular a 
 brilliant consummation. By the many friends of both the lady and 
 the gentleman it was considered a consummation devoutly to be desired. 
 
48 Our Own Lady 
 
 To the culmination of the interesting acquaintance and its associa- 
 tions, Bertha now become a woman of the world, and yet after all is 
 said and considered, not so worldly, required some time for decision. 
 It was a subject freighted with deep meaning. She had been suc- 
 cessful beyond most, far and away beyond her own dreams and hopes. 
 In some happy, wondering moments in bygone time, she never had 
 pictured a more desirable Prince Charming. Now, at the arrival of 
 the romantic moment for her it was undeniable that her feelings were 
 the same. The picture in her mind's eye, was realization, nothing 
 questioned. Still she was not in dreamland, though it must be said it 
 was an enchanting hour. She had enjoyed a visit to Europe in 1904 
 with congenial friends, and had reaped much profit from the outing. 
 She was in a splendid and well-paid, position, and was expecting to 
 graduate from the Kent College of Law ere long. This would be the 
 culmination of her long course of study by night. She was able to 
 live in nice style, her summers in the country, winters in a fashionable 
 hotel in the city. Her life was full. It seemed she had reached the 
 apex of years of effort, industry and study, all of which she had 
 enjoyed. Her future appeared assured if ever one were safe in feeling 
 assurance or any degree of certainty on that score. She had a large and 
 always growing acquaintance and list of friends which she valued 
 highly, and which afforded pleasurable diversity and satisfaction in 
 social life. She was indeed a happy young woman, proudly circum- 
 stanced, one to whom Fortune really had been kind, even indulgent, 
 some would claim. 
 
 Miss Duppler had great love for life's pleasures and strong desire 
 to do well, to so perform her part that the world would be glad for 
 that part; she had borne her burdens (she knew none are without 
 burdens, and she is still bearing hers, as always), in quiet strength. 
 It was a full moment, brimming. 
 
 But is there not more in life than all these? Does not every soul 
 long to be the only one, the very first thought to some one? Are not 
 companionship, and understanding in association, desirable? She was 
 almost persuaded that while her life so far had been worthwhile, that 
 still it might be better farther on in other circumstances, in another 
 atmosphere. After all hers had not been such a wide world, and while 
 pleasurable it had been one of deadly earnestness. She began to 
 believe and to feel that a home would be more desirable and satisfying, 
 by far, than a house. One alone cannot make a home. There must be 
 association, consideration. Anybody, everybody possesses a house. 
 The difference? Yes, it might be better farther on. 
 
Friendship — Abel Davis, Gentleman 49 
 
 Be that as it may, also the thought was borne in upon her that, alone 
 as she was, life might not always be so fine for her; success in such 
 measure as had been hers might not always attend her; she might not 
 always be at the front; she might grow old, and then be alone! 
 
 Very certainly in all the world there could not be found one more 
 to her liking than Mr. Baur. He was a man of education, widely 
 travelled, a keen observer, a man of parts, a business success, and 
 their mutual likes and refinements were in such utter harmony. 
 Happy reflections. 
 
 A glowing prospect for great happiness seemed looming before her. 
 
Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage 
 
 VIII 
 
 "The tastes, affections and sentiments are more absolutely the man 
 than are his talents or acquirements." 
 
 Mr. Jacob Baur was a chemist and pharmacist. He belonged to 
 that class of Americans whose splendid success has its root in individual 
 effort. It is a class wherein laudable ambition and the engaging quality 
 of adaptability keep constant company with effort. These combina- 
 tions generate a trait or power of directing, of utilization in character, 
 that recognizes opportunity. With such qualities in constant play it 
 is believable that Mr. Baur earned and richly deserved the proud 
 American title "a self made man." 
 
 Born October 12th, 1856, in Zurich, Switzerland, his youthful days 
 were spent in the home of his parents, John Jacob and Maria (Stuber) 
 Baur, in their new home in America, Louisville, Kentucky, where he 
 attended the public schools. It is claimed for him that he was never 
 dilatory, even in the choice of his life's work, and the choice made, 
 like Bertha, he at once set about careful preparation for his chosen 
 calling the moment he had decided what it was he wished most to do. 
 
 For this preparation he matriculated at Philadelphia College of 
 Pharmacy and graduated therefrom in 1881. The energetic young 
 man had in the meantime much practical experience as a druggist, as 
 while scarcely more than a lad, he opened a store in Terre Haute, 
 Indiana. That city became his home and that of his family and con- 
 tinued to be his home town for several years. From there he came to 
 Chicago, and when death claimed him he was carried back to his old 
 home for burial. 
 
 His enterprise there flourished about twenty-one years. Within 
 that period, however, he managed other important business. At one 
 time he owned a flour mill in which he met success as a miller, a very 
 old and esteemed calling; also he was interested in Gould mines in 
 Montana, and in the Searchlight Gas company. 
 
 It was while conducting his drug store that his active, inventive 
 mind conceived the idea of transporting carbonic gas in portable tubes 
 or cylinders, after liquefying it under high pressure. This idea it 
 was, that lifted him from a humble place in business circles, for it was 
 
 50 
 
Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage 51 
 
 then but a step to his organizing in 1888, the Liquid Carbonic Com- 
 pany, and as founder he was of course made president. The concern, 
 a growing one from the first moment, became a tremendous one of 
 which he continued president until his death. 
 
 On the date of that organization his fortune began, for the company 
 developed all its interests until its plant became the largest soda foun- 
 tain factory in the world. 
 
 This thinking, careful man followed the gleam of his arresting mind, 
 and how far that little candle cast its beam. Very soon he invented 
 and perfected the first automatic carborator ever produced. His next 
 step was to make pure food sirups, and from wholesome fruits in place 
 of the questionable products in use at that time. 
 
 It was a logical and legitimate step to the development of the soda 
 fountain, and in its development and practical results, Mr. Baur is 
 entitled to the credit of doing more for the soda fountain business than 
 any other man, a proof that every great business enterprise has a 
 soul, that one man's spirit animates, pervades and colors the whole 
 concern, for his company without a drone among them, under his super- 
 vision and direction installed and operated branches in many large 
 cities. Thus it was the business grew to mammoth proportions. 
 
 Also Mr. Baur was president and treasurer of the Federal Brass 
 Works, and a director of the Federal Life Insurance company. In 
 the line of his chief business interest, he became a member of the 
 Societies of Chemical Industry of England and America, and of the 
 American Pharmaceutical association. He was well known in Chicago 
 club life as in the business world of the city. He held membership in 
 the Union League and the Chicago Athletic clubs, and in the Exmoor 
 Country club. He enjoyed a game of golf for recreation, and found 
 time for co-operation in several benevolent projects. Also he was 
 vice-president of the Indiana Society of Chicago. 
 
 A very modest man with regard to his achievements, connections and 
 activities, he was satisfied on all occasions, to let his work speak for 
 him, the proof of the gentleman anywhere in time. His record was 
 one of continuous and commendable progress and acquisition in all 
 the lines of his endeavors. Mr. Baur's motto was: "Perseverance, 
 accuracy, dispatch." It adorned his book plate, and not infrequently 
 his stationery. 
 
 Following the natural trend surely the cultivated Mr. Baur must 
 have in some moment asked whatever gods may be in charge of lonely 
 souls if "after all, life is, must be, something more than invention, 
 installation, acquiring, and agreeable associations, gratifying as these 
 
52 Our Own Lady 
 
 are to whomsoever they attend. Surely every human being with sensi- 
 bilities, must desire, long to be, the one always first in thought with 
 some one, must joy in the fine hope to see the face at the casement 
 smiling welcome and longing." 
 
 Something of like mindedness, verily. 
 
 Earnest consideration for her womanly qualities and fine traits, 
 recognition of the character and steadfastness to purpose lived by the 
 little lady, coupled with the felicity enjoyed in their association, induced 
 a season of indulgence in beautiful dreams of future happiness, sweet 
 thought in moments of castle-building, mayhap with thoughts of a 
 home, plans for an early realization of these dreams. These bachelor 
 reveries afforded pleasurable moments not before well known in his 
 scheme of building and of progress. We may muse and be glad, no 
 more, for ours is not the right or desire to trail further along into 
 their golden dawn. These busy souls had owing them if not over- 
 due, just such a season of sweet reasoning, castle-building, planning 
 and dreaming as came to them in their beguiling quest for happiness. 
 
 It so happened that for a period of the summer time, for several 
 seasons Mr. Baur and Miss Duppler lived in Highland Park, a suburb 
 of Chicago. It is a glorious region, an enchanting community. There 
 radiate fine roads, romantic walks and lanes, great ravines and fine 
 hills, many absorbing areas, places of delight, all of which it was 
 theirs to enjoy, and often together after becoming acquainted. In 
 time this region became almost a hallowed one to them for its asso- 
 ciations. These were their sunset walks and twilight rambles at 
 the close of days too lovely to last, that gorgeous season of "The 
 golden hours on angel wings." Happy lovers they, for they walked 
 and talked and with hand-clasp remembered only that it was spring. 
 At no other place known to either of them was there ever so much 
 beauty as when the moon was shining its brightest on the glimmering, 
 restless waters of the lake. Unrivalled scene for the doughty little Dan, 
 the time and place for his dainty game. Followed: 
 
 "The flight of perfect days that drift away 
 So swiftly in sunset mysteries, 
 Winged by a wandering breeze." 
 
 Theirs was no dalliance with the breeze of love — the healthful heart- 
 appetite was theirs. So it was Mr. Baur who won Bertha Duppler's 
 promise that together they would face the years and fortune, what- 
 ever betide. It was his felicity to discover to her the world of un- 
 
Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage 53 
 
 dreamed happiness and content, for love attended them, and nothing 
 here, or anywhere, mattered at all. Nothing at all. The world was 
 new — life was before them and beckoning; in that full hour they could 
 not see, they could not hear the cowled horseman's "Live — I am com- 
 ing." Theirs was a happy picture and so beautiful. Truly in the 
 words of Hugo, "to love is a consummation." 
 
 "The past was asleep and her life began." 
 
 Beautiful was the vista of the future life of the poised and practical 
 young woman. Even promising as was that dreamed-about future, 
 she carried out her plans and graduated from her law school in June, 
 1908. Then a few months later came their marriage, a beautiful cere- 
 mony, becoming to both of them and admired by the many friends 
 present. 
 
 Mr. Baur's gift to his bride was a pearl and diamond brooch in 
 butterfly design and of finest workmanship. A little story attaching 
 to the jewel, prized by Mrs. Baur as her greatest treasure, is: On 
 her way to her law school one winter night, passing by Spauldings, 
 jewelers, then at State street and Jackson boulevard, she was attracted 
 by a beautiful boroque pearl butterfly, poised on a black velvet jewel 
 cushion. The falling snow had made the window-pane without into a 
 glistening frame of diamond snow, as it were, under the lights, affording 
 a striking and rare picture. Oh the satisfaction and joy one gets in view- 
 ing shop windows. This particular one was a veritable sunburst of glit- 
 ter and glow. Drinking in the beauty of it all, jewels, snow and light, her 
 thought was: "If only I had that lovely butterfly pin I would be happy." 
 During class that evening she thought of it; the next day she went in 
 to ask its price, and was told, whereupon she answered, "If you will 
 take off that end figure I might buy it." The clerk only smiled. There- 
 after she would often look in the window to see if the brooch were 
 still there. Sometimes it was in sight, other times it was in a hidden 
 tray. So, when her husband-to-be asked what present she would like 
 from him in commemoration of the happy day, as he knew she never 
 cared much for diamonds, the reply was, "There is only one thing I 
 desire besides yourself; it is the butterfly pin at Spauldings'." She 
 received it as his wedding gift. To him it was of course, emblematic 
 of her study and classification of rare specimens of the butterfly, 
 which work he knew she long had carried on, as he knew she held 
 the butterfly as her symbol of life. The classifying and collecting 
 
54 Our Own Lady 
 
 had been carried on early in her mornings during the period when her 
 evenings were given to her law studies. Also he had her little ode, 
 "To A Butterfly," written when a slip of a girl: 
 
 Oh, why have you such golden wings? 
 
 You are such dainty little things 
 
 To flit about the sky ! 
 
 I often wonder why 
 
 You seem so far, and yet so nigh. 
 
 Why do you always live in the air? 
 
 Is it because you are so fair? 
 
 Do your little wings never tire, 
 
 Do you never strike the mire, 
 
 But keep on flying higher and higher? 
 
 How sincerely this fine man, charming lover hoped her life by his 
 side would be happy, happy as he longed to make it, that it would be 
 joyous. 
 
 Mr. Jacob Baur and Miss Bertha Elizabeth Duppler were united in 
 marriage on November 23, 1908 in Trinity Episcopal Church, High- 
 land Park, Illinois. 
 
 "The lassie that a man lo'es best, 
 Oh, that's the lass to mak' him blest." 
 
 The world ought to be a happy place when it is so grand, so great, 
 and, yes — so good. 
 
 Never a more radiant bride entered a church; in her shimmering 
 attire, enveloping veil enhancing her appearance, she was happiness 
 personified in procession to the altar, where awaited her distinguished 
 Prince Charming. In the lovely fane, amidst the consequential and 
 proud presence they met to unite forever and forever, their hopes and 
 fortune. 
 
 A special train, Chicago and return, carried guests from many places, 
 representatives from various stations in the life of their country. On 
 the same evening Mr. and Mrs. Baur departed for Hot Springs, Vir- 
 ginia, from there a few days later going to New York, thence to sail 
 for Europe. A leisurely honeymoon tour had been planned and care- 
 fully arranged for. To encircle the globe ere returning to home and 
 duty, a new life and for them another world was their intention; but 
 it happened, contrary to all plans, that business affairs imperatively 
 called for Mr. Baur's return and the world's tour was terminated at the 
 end of a few happy, care-free months and, sad to relate, was never 
 resumed. 
 
Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage 55 
 
 They visited several places while moving down in the course for 
 warmth and sunshine, to enticing, confusing Cairo, away off there in 
 wondrous Africa. One's wedding journey, and to see night-fall over 
 the Sphinx, the one inscrutable symbol, shrouded in starlight and silence. 
 In Egypt, the one place where celebrated scholars from all the great 
 countries, with all their learning and wisdom stand mute before the 
 old, old Pyramids and the enormous Sphinx. Greater creations man has 
 not yet wrought. 
 
 Such a visit in itself, that visit almost is worth a lifetime of toil and 
 endurance, and Bertha had that privilege. Indeed Mrs. Baur has 
 walked in that historic, that enchanting land with feelings of grati- 
 tude for the privilege, and since then in how many lands, how very 
 many lands she has walked, but never again since those halcyon days 
 has she walked and laughed and climbed and joyed with another, but 
 always alone. Unforgettable and hallowed experience in the wondrous 
 region of novelty, enormity, strangeness, antiquities, desert and moon- 
 light; the silence and mystery; the age-old and brooding Nile rolling on 
 and on, typifying Father Time. 
 
 A long time ago there was told a pretty story about this lady 
 Bertha Duppler Baur, who has figured as the subject of many inter- 
 esting novelettes, very many in the span of her years of various activi- 
 ties, wide travel and wondrous associations. This one had her at 
 one time dabbling in theosophy or some Oriental teaching that had 
 attracted her in her studious days so full with her seeking after knowl- 
 edge. She was told that in a former life she had been an Egyptian 
 princess, and that she believed it, was the story. Whether the teacher 
 hoped such a truth as he seemed to think it, might help the busy young 
 woman with all her problems, that is console her in her hard work, 
 we do not know. She who has always thought life will be better farther 
 on. Who worked in utter content to work, to whom work meant 
 growth, while others were amazed by the duties she carried. She 
 who had no moment in which to think on the subject, let alone to 
 believe it. Her mind was already crammed. Had she been a princess 
 in another life, what would be the benefit to her now and here? Away 
 with such teaching. 
 
 During their honeymoon in that storied region, a dream season it 
 well may have been, there came to her mind all the pundits had told 
 her about her being a princess somewhere in a far time, and she 
 recalled that she had been pictured as an Egyptian one. In this 
 season of happiness in a strange land amidst such interesting sur- 
 roundings, realizing her felicity and good fortune, she could clearly 
 feel what it must be to be a real princess, for she was enjoying a 
 
56 Our Own Lady 
 
 royal season, without sovereign power, it is true, and none was ever 
 likely to come to her or be hers, but she wanted no more than merely 
 her present sovereignty, spelling for her happiness, a dream come true. 
 The same old, old story — joy to those hearts. The scenes are ever 
 the same; let us thank Heaven for such sameness. Many times, oh, 
 how many times, has it been Bertha Baur's to look upon exalted 
 forms of natural beauty and grandeur, sunset at sea, and how many 
 seas she has sailed; the approach of a storm on the prairies; the sub- 
 lime majesty of the mountains, up there where one realizes, as one 
 realizes the same feelings in a storm at sea, a sense of deep sadness 
 and increasing loneliness. Lofty experiences? There have been many 
 others. As we know, she had been in Europe a few years earlier, in 
 company with Mr. and Mrs. Woodbury Melcher and their daughter 
 Dorothy, of Boston, and Mrs. Keefer Ford, a Chicago friend of the 
 years. On that occasion her enjoyment and satisfaction had been 
 great, she had learned and treasured. But here on another continent 
 was her farthest East, while it was Mr. Baur's fourth visit to Africa. 
 
 Always is the desire of the traveller in that dark, vast and mighty 
 continent, to return for another visit, as all travellers will acknowl- 
 edge with me. It is a mysterious allure. It is unlike leaving the "lone 
 mother of dead empires." No Trevi weaves the fancy for throwing 
 pennies into its waters to insure certain return. Rome may be the 
 mistress of the world, Roma Immortalis! But great Africa certainly 
 is the mystery. 
 
 One readily can picture the splendid guide Bertha had, and as easily 
 envision the engaging company the husband enjoyed in the companion- 
 ship of his happy, happy bride on that great excursion. 
 
 "And though the puny wound appear, 
 Short while it grieves." 
 
 Reading in the public press about the approaching marriage, a brief 
 call was made at the office to express felicitations, after which we did not 
 again meet for many months. Although our association had never 
 been intimate, owing it was supposable, to our busy lives and different 
 lines of work, I hoped of course to see the marriage if a church cere- 
 mony. At that time I was not acquainted with Mr. Baur. 
 
 The mind at rest on that deep matter, came the thought of a suitable 
 gift. Miss Duppler had been so thoughtful and rendered so many 
 kindnesses, been so strong in her friendship, surely a fitting moment, 
 an appropriate time, had arrived in which to offer a small testimonial, 
 
Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage 57 
 
 a suitable tribute. It must be one to comport with her season of joy 
 and high promise, and limited means and but little time to one's self, 
 were considerations. After planning and reasoning, the decision was 
 for a handsome comforter. Being a fine needlewoman, every moment 
 spent in such an undertaking would be a pleasurable one. Recalling 
 Mr. Blaine's statement that the making of a garment (economics), 
 constitutes four-fifths of the cost, it was felt that one such as had been 
 seen in Pans not so long before could be offered, but not in that 
 rich satin de Lyons; that could not be afforded even for a best friend 
 it was bitterly admitted. Oh, oh, that quality, color, style! For that 
 pattern in silk were purchased a center square featuring chrysanthe- 
 mums and butterflies, plain red border, lining, eiderdown, thread for 
 seams and quilting, zephyr for knotting that beautiful center. All this 
 richness; utter happiness in its possession! 
 
 During fabrication in that small living-room, callers were interested; 
 intrigued neighbors were constantly dropping in, all of them in high 
 expectation to hear how such an unusual gift would be received, and 
 to hear about the wedding, always a mastering subject to lovely 
 woman. Just to look upon a bride, or see a marriage ceremony. Hang 
 the dishes and other morning chores. It seemed never to occur to 
 the mind of anyone that the giver might not see the ceremony, not 
 any feature of the marriage of her friend by whom she had for so 
 long set such store. Of course none could imagine that some jinx 
 might dash the brimming cup. With what sincere regard and admira- 
 tion had she seen that friend pass one mile-stone after another; one 
 task after another taken up and finished; had longed at times for 
 only a moment's visit. Some times when passing she would go up 
 to the big and lovely reception room of the postmaster, simply to spend 
 a moment in watching her friend dispatch her work, to see the many 
 in waiting for her attention, and never disturb for a flash of time by 
 any request or even greetings. Even that gift-maker had taken visitors 
 just to see in action the friend she had known and admired since that 
 thrilling first visit in the Annex, at the moment some twelve years 
 agone. At that time she too, had been on the other side of the big desk, 
 never thinking of handicap, or of slowing up in the stride that signals 
 an interesting career, or that marks one interested in life's affairs, be- 
 fore the old gentleman wearing the long beard and a scythe, should 
 come brushing along. 
 
 Like Chopin's mother with her flying knitting needles, mine of the 
 shorter name worked much love. The comforter finished, dusted fleck- 
 less from threads and marks of crayons, rolled in perfect proportion, 
 
58 Our Own Lady 
 
 tied with bride ribbon in a French bow, in a box almost rich enough 
 for a wedding gift, furnished by a friendly florist, was delivered at 
 the bride's hotel. 
 
 Reading of the marriage and all the affairs in connection with it, 
 the going away on a world-wide tour, there came a feeling of numbness, 
 illness, of miserable manners, unmeasured presumption in sending a 
 gift! How face questions and puzzled looks? At first thought it 
 could not be done. But fortunately, to no one who had not seen the 
 gift had it been mentioned, but everyone, it seemed all the world, 
 asked about "Miss Duppler's wedding," it came to be a refrain; and 
 then the gifts, and a few even displayed their announcement cards; 
 I had not received one. It was pretty terrible. Still, thought I, one's 
 wedding is one's own affair, and does not admit of questioning. 
 
 Months passed, and most of the pain, memory lingered. Even 
 I had almost forgiven one who had pertly remarked, "Well, Miss 
 Duppler has passed out of your life. You have seen all of her you 
 will ever see." No answer was made to the poor troubled tyke. 
 
 One sunny morning came to my desk the happy, laughing friend of 
 the years, extending a rich bouquet of favorite flowers, and laying 
 before me a tiny box with a trinket, "Key to Heaven," the Arabs 
 believe it to be, which she had brought for me from Cairo. She knew 
 it was a natal anniversary, and though at home but a few days and 
 nothing yet regulated, she came to pay the call, to bring flowers 
 and my "Christmas," and to invite me for lunch. Imagine it all!* 
 
 The visiting over that lunch covered aeons, thousands of leagues 
 over seas and lands; a lifetime or two in prospect of happy futures, 
 everything. Just so. Finally came the courage to ask if she had 
 seen or heard about a poor little tramp home-made coverlit, a waif 
 in red silk, with chrysanthemums, butterflies and things, all sprinkled 
 over with love and affection, in a magnificent box left for her at her 
 hotel? Just a pretty and homey souvenir du couer, implying a prayer 
 for a life of comfort? 
 
 Almost startled, she asked, "Did you receive no card, no acknowl- 
 edgment?" 
 
 "Nothing, nothing at all." 
 
 Her last act before leaving on the blissful journey directed that every 
 gift, greeting, every letter be acknowledged. 
 
 Whatever could have happened? 
 
 Only twice has the subject been touched upon. Once she phoned 
 
 *This paragraph is the story about the trinket brought from Cairo, purchased 
 for a "Christmas" on the wedding trip, referred to earlier in my book. 
 
Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage 59 
 
 for me to join her in the conservatory, when after her singing lesson we 
 walked through the park to her home and a delightful dinner a deux 
 (Mr. Baur out of the city). A joyful evening, such as only women 
 friends can know or have known since the invention of grate fires, 
 warm robes, flower-decked and book-strown boudoirs were thought 
 up. Ending the session and turning to our rooms, I was invited to 
 see her sleeping room. On throwing back some filmy bed-covering 
 she revealed the work of my hands, and stooping, raised its hem to 
 her lips. Not a word was spoken. 
 
 Mrs. Baur is expressively dramatic; she can give a page of meaning 
 by the wave of a hand and a look. To see her stand utterly still 
 is to realize composure. To see her merry laugh and that down-and- 
 out motion of her expressive right hand is to realize — well, that "God's 
 in his heaven." 
 
 The other was lately, when came a Christmas card picturing a big 
 high-poster with a stunning "patchwork" coverlit. On the margin she 
 had written, she who has much cause for pride in her fine memory, 
 
 "To dear , from her old friend. 'Comforter. 1908.' Bertha 
 
 D. Baur." 
 
 "Lest we forget?" 
 Never, while day returns. 
 
 The home-made gift, its making, bestowal, going astray, the reunion 
 and its glow, have enticed us far from our happy travellers on their 
 Eastern course. 
 
 One evening in a renowned Paris restaurant where refinement, bril- 
 liance and the world's luxury seemed crushed in epitome, on looking 
 over the wondrous assembly, Bertha saw the great Patti and called her 
 husband's attention. On one of his cards she wrote a few words in 
 rhyme to the diva, as from an American woman to one whom the 
 world loved, and he sent it for her to the admired one. She read the 
 few words, glanced about then passed the card to Baron Cederstrom, 
 her husband who at once accompanied the attendant to the Baurs' 
 table and introduced himself. A few moments for compliments and 
 then he escorted them to his wife at whose table the four had an inter- 
 esting visit over their coffee. So it was the young woman in her new 
 station began her manner of seeing the world, another one it was, 
 and enjoying every moment of it all. Telling of the little episode so 
 well carried off, at the start of their memorable itinerate, Mr. Baur 
 remarked the several such pleasurable affairs they had encountered, as 
 happens with many travelling and sociable Americans, so many of 
 whom love to meet the world of agreeable people. 
 
60 Our Own Lady 
 
 On through Italy on their way to Egypt, it was their experience to 
 be in Naples at the moment of the tidal wave and eruptive disaster, 
 at Messina and in the Straits of the same name, in late December, 
 a moving and direful cataclysm. Viewing from their windows the 
 growing numbers of people in the streets, they experienced for them- 
 selves some of the sensation of awe, tremor and real distress of the 
 hour. Persons in their homes and in hotels and pensions, were throwing 
 down from their windows and balconies, to the collectors in the streets, 
 clothing, bedding, pillows, bags of shoes, anything, everything for the 
 poor victims with nothing left to them, nothing at all in some cases, 
 as in most warm countries no sleeping clothes are worn. 
 
 The Baurs were liberal givers of money, but that giving did not 
 satisfy Bertha, after seeing such a rain of gifts of every conceivable 
 nature, to meet the needs for them all, showered on every side, from 
 everywhere. Thereupon she went to her trunks to find something to 
 shower down from her own hands. A white serge suit caught her 
 eye. This she greatly prized, for she had worn it on the occasion of 
 going out for the first time with Mr. Baur; for this memory alone the 
 suit was of much sentimental value to her. She handled the splendid 
 outfit for a moment, examined its condition carefully and made it into 
 a nice package, when it too, went out of the window to join the col- 
 lections in the streets for the sufferers from the awful upheaval. 
 
 The mention of "nice package" leads one to ask of those on her 
 list for Christmas remembrances, if they ever receive handsomer par- 
 cels than the ones from that interesting shipping and storeroom on 
 the third floor of the home so many love and hundreds admire? 
 
 From that gift-shop, year following on year, go out her tokens of 
 love, esteem, remembrance, by which she honors the sweet Anniversary. 
 Surely but few can answer, "Yes, I have received more lovely ones." 
 
 To see the busy woman in the midst of it, examining, assigning, 
 directing the work in the pretty commerce is a pleasure; all seem in 
 joyful abandon in the toil that is the pleasure of the season. The 
 scene is not unlike the last night in the life of Lucretia, when found 
 by her husband and a noble company at a late hour "spinning wool 
 amongst her maids." Mrs. Baur's shopping "before Christmas," her 
 selecting, and giving of orders, must begin in May, not later than July, 
 surely and she derives keen pleasure from the season of giving and 
 planning. For three decades, — be not startled, for we are not of those 
 who cry "O, call back yesterday, bid time return," the writer's "Christ- 
 mas" from her has arrived as punctually as the day, excepting only the 
 one spent on honeymoon touring, as we know. 
 
Mr. Jacob Baur — Marriage 61 
 
 Formerly our exchange of gifts represented small outlay, recalling 
 for one instance a hat pin long treasured that may have cost seven, 
 maybe ten cents; a wholly invaluable picture in return, only the 
 subject a bit of interest. For long the situation has revealed the friend 
 of the years as the one "more blessed." First, comes the fine card, 
 later a package perfectly wrapped, indicating care, security and betok- 
 ening the season by pretty "stickers" picturing the gay little fat man 
 in white whiskers and scarlet coat, with the unique ability to be in 
 millions of places at the same hour, whose pack never grows smaller; 
 alert Crusader with his banner and red cross, or nice well groomed 
 elephants and red wreaths with the symbolic letters replaced by the 
 season's greetings. Always a gift to please, beautifully encased, and 
 never has one been received without some thought from the sender 
 written by her own hand. 
 
 The writer is aware that the few homely paragraphs just preceding 
 will be considered by some as "pretty terrible," by a few as "silly." 
 Well, slinging custard pies is not a pretty performance, but once in 
 career-making their slinging was the beginning of the fame of the 
 greatest and most admired and most famous clown in the world. It 
 was not so much what was slung, but the manner of slinging. 
 
 Every act, every piece of work in career-making, living, studying, 
 planning, has its value in estimating the soul of that "life." 
 
 By some, this story about a woman, largely written for women many 
 of whom have asked for it, may be considered old-fashioned, without 
 snap, not a hew-to-line sort, regardless of where the quips might fall, 
 disappointing; its writer may be, if not an antique, one limping along 
 "the graying road to age." Nevertheless, its subject has lived every 
 phase of the life of her time, and she has preserved mementos of every 
 stage of her career. Hence this small tome. Believe me or not. It 
 has not been a great life, and decisively not a little one, but it has 
 been a career (one nowhere near its finish, we trust), and not that 
 of an upstart, for she has been and remains wholly natural in all her 
 relations and observances, never a snob. Be yourself. 
 
Bertha A Three-time Graduate 
 
 IX 
 
 It is a terrible thing to be happy. 
 
 — Hugo. 
 
 On the return of the travellers from their great voyage it was theirs 
 to begin a new life, and a full and joyous one it proved. 
 
 Mr. Baur's business continued to expand, and soon he was engrossed 
 in building projects, in enlarging the company's plants, all, every- 
 thing of great moment to his company and his personal interests. 
 Every day was crowded to this un-hurried, never flurried man of the 
 world. He knew how to make money, how to travel, how to study, 
 how to be happy, how to be a helpful citizen and so had friends on 
 all sides. He appeared always at ease in his manifold enterprises of 
 whatever nature. His ability gave him assurance. It seemed to one 
 that if, in the sense of the great Paul's words, there were troubles on 
 every side, he would not be distressed; if perplexed, he would never 
 be in despair, so calm was his temperament. A happy and truly hap- 
 pily constituted man, splendid citizen and helpful friend. 
 
 Mrs. Baur, free from her law studies and business-world connec- 
 tions, at once took up a course in the School of Domestic Arts and 
 Science, how a noted institution in its great north side mansion. She 
 meant to be as perfectly fitted as possible for her new life and the 
 demands she knew would be made upon her; for to her a fine home 
 must be a well-directed one, quietly and efficiently conducted; she had 
 never had house-keeping or home-making experience, but she now 
 meant to know all about everything in connection with her own home; 
 the same Bertha, always making ready, always keeping responsible. 
 In addition she carried on her studies in music and voice culture, and 
 in the autumn entered Miss Anna Morgan's School of Dramatics and 
 Expression. She graduated with honors and was happy in the thought 
 of herself as a three-time graduate. A fine record. But that was not 
 all of it, enviable as was her score; did not entirely account for her 
 happiness. The crowning tribute lay in the fact that the occasion of 
 her graduation was considered by Mr. Baur as the most fitting to 
 make the present he had set aside for her. So it was that the husband's 
 
 62 
 
Bertha a Three-time Graduate 63 
 
 graduation gift, a mere scrap of paper, added if it were possible, to 
 her happiness and pride. The face value of the tiny scrip was well 
 up in the five figures. Every cent of it had been earned, as the world 
 appraises efficiency, or owes for steady endeavor for betterment, on 
 the part of them both, the happy giver and the proud recipient. 
 
 The early gift to the happy wife from the husband who had made 
 his own way to success was to show his appreciation for her unrivalled 
 efforts, beginning in her lonely girlhood, her devotion to her plans to 
 conquer, to make for herself a worthwhile place, as well as a mark of 
 confidence in her ability. Also it was a testimonial to her fineness, 
 womanly delicacy in truth, qualities which she possessed, by which 
 he felt she knew and in all sincerity realized that his fortune had not 
 grown on bushes, but instead represented years of work, devotion and 
 planning. He truly felt that his Bertha appreciated to the utmost 
 his own endeavors and accomplishments, steadfastness, for his princely 
 gift in her proud moment, was hers absolutely to do with exactly as 
 she might wish, and no questions asked, no accounting desired. Mutual 
 souls. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Baur had fine homes as would be supposed; winters 
 in the city, summers in their greatly loved Highland Park, the place 
 of their meeting and becoming acquainted. Early in the future, with 
 his business buildings and enterprises all finished, Mr. Baur purposed 
 entering into the matter of building a fine home of their own, many 
 details and features of which he was even then carrying in his busy 
 mind. 
 
 Their social life was an active one and quite splendid, and they 
 travelled about some. One season Mrs. Baur enjoyed a trip to British 
 Columbia and other fine scenic regions, with Mrs. Harry Dickey, her 
 husband's niece, as company. The husband, never an anchorite, made 
 trips in all directions where matters pertaining to his business inter- 
 ests called. On many of these he had his wife's company, and what 
 lovely jaunts they were. To Bertha who had known business harness 
 for so long, rarely a season of any length in which to relax, renew, or 
 see and know, they were Elysian. Absent all thought of return to the 
 grind and moil from which she had, it is true, garnered so splendidly, 
 but in which nevertheless, she had known fatigue and some distress 
 and trials. For such is life. 
 
 Then came the crowning felicity in their careers, the birth of the 
 little daughter, who came in the lovely May- time, 1911. Following 
 a dear old German custom, Mr. Baur planned a gift to Bertha and 
 asked her what she would like from him to commemorate the birth of 
 their baby? The answer was that the only thing wanted besides him- 
 
64 Our Own Lady 
 
 self and the baby, was a mate to the pin he presented as her wedding 
 gift, a larger butterfly brooch. It was the gift. Unfortunately she 
 lost this one, the larger, while attending the inauguration of President 
 Harding; the little one, her wedding souvenir, she still possesses. It too 
 was lost for a time while on a business trip to the court house, some 
 years ago, as she diverted her course for a call at the Recorder's office. 
 After maybe a couple of hours spent on her several missions the loss 
 was discovered. In the search she retraced her steps, and on entering 
 the vestibule of the great office of the recorder, there, gleaming in the 
 half-light, thrust quite far back by the coming and going of many 
 office patrons, she found the precious brooch of such binding memories, 
 which she prizes as her greatest treasure of all. 
 
 From the moment of their union, home was Mr. Baur's first thought, 
 his wife first in everything, and now a little child added to their joy 
 and content. It all was sweetly wonderful, and their new responsibility 
 the finest one in the world. To give his wife and their child happiness 
 and comfort, was his one aim in life, and life to him had been and 
 still was, a joyous experience. 
 
 It was at this time, in this full and happy hour, when Mr. Baur's 
 action as husband and noble father showed forth so brilliantly by 
 a codicil to his will. In that paragraph he named Bertha guardian 
 of their child, and requested that the little girl be brought up in 
 manner becoming his fortune and their rightful station in life. It 
 meant much. The child could not have been more loved and prized, 
 or more cautiously provided for in all matters had she been a king's 
 heir. No wife could desire or long for greater proof than these two 
 acts; proof that she was the treasure of her husband's heart, as well 
 as the treasurer of his jewel beyond price, and of his fortune. To none 
 more truly than to Mrs. Baur were it ever given to feel the real mean- 
 ing of the fine old Latin words, long ago used in ceremony of mar- 
 riage: "Ubi to gaius, ibi ego gaia," which line one has given to 
 adorn this paragraph on the absolute trust and confidence of a loved 
 husband, given by one who knew and admired Mr. Baur. 
 
 In that long ago the Roman bride arriving at her new home with 
 her company, was met at the door by the bridegroom who stood in his 
 decorated entrance-way to ask her who she was and to listen to her 
 reply: "Where thou art Caius, there am I Caia," intimating that com- 
 radeship in all things which constitutes the ideal marriage. Then, 
 lifted over the threshold by her husband, he presented her with the 
 keys, and thenceforth she was associated with him in his most sacred 
 domestic relations, in his worship and his family, and became a sharer 
 
Bertha a Three-time Graduate 65 
 
 in his inheritances, position and fame. (It was I believe from this 
 charming ceremony of presenting the keys that evolved the wedding 
 ring and its significance, a symbol by which all Christendom sets such 
 store — "I thee with this ring wed and all my earthly goods endow" — , 
 as all will note and not forget, the top of all keys is a ring or nearly 
 one, then the clef.) 
 
 In all things during her varied life, Bertha Baur has been careful, 
 always thoughtful, has kept responsible. The outstanding fact can 
 be asserted with no fear of contradiction, that her best service, though 
 at the same time a labor of love as of tribute, has been to her hus- 
 band's memory and in her mother-love measured in the careful rearing 
 and education of their child. A prayer is that her blessings and reward 
 are filial devotion and consideration in brimming measure. 
 
 Looking back through those few winged years from marriage, the 
 glimpses justify their story. This woman's life was at times so glowing 
 that words would fail, were the subject of her felicity mentioned. A 
 thought is the amazing contrasts in a human career, the capacity given 
 us for suffering, endurance in loss, loving and happiness. Once in 
 greeting and offering her expression of utmost joy upon her happy 
 state — a husband's love and devotion, their child, her splendid health, 
 home and friends — almost she murmured as if speaking to herself, 
 "Yes, life is very beautiful; I am happy, really know what it is to be 
 happy." On another occasion as a joyous wife and mother, she asked 
 if one ever had known another so perfectly happy? 
 
 Ere long fell the shadow — the going on the long, last journey of 
 the loved one; the church service of honor and her entrance with the 
 stricken members of his family. In thought that moment from 
 memory's casket flashed back to her a radiant hour, and another cere- 
 mony not four years since, in that same place of praise ' and prayer, 
 a hallowed precinct. The flash was of a joyous bride in filmy white, 
 a happy young woman, glorious music, flowers, lights, meeting at the 
 altar, wondrous promises, the sweet recessional ; and now, only twilight, 
 black robes, no joy, no future; people, praise, all blurred by the throb 
 of woeful dirge. Small wonder that she cried out; never was present 
 greater cause for that indescriable wail of anguish, one that pierced 
 the hearts of the throng, for never was any one more nearly crushed 
 than was Bertha Baur. Followed the deep, dank and awful grave, and 
 again to face the world — alone. 
 
 A few days ago an ailing husband, doctors, a worried and devoted 
 wife, a quick trip to a great hospital. More doctors, nurses, quiet, 
 then on a trundle to the operating tower accompanied by the anxious, 
 
66 Our Own Lady 
 
 praying wife, with a hand of the stricken one in hers, a prayer book 
 in her other. At the door clasped hands of one another, an embrace, 
 her soft "Auf wiedersehen," in reply, "Ja, wohl," his last words. The 
 wheels rolled into that forbidding, mysterious chamber whence so many 
 never return to tell of the mysteries. 
 
 The anxious, suffering one sat not far away in a room apart, in 
 prayer, hope, love and memories; wondering, waiting, watchful. At 
 the end of an hour in her Gethsemane, a light touch and she heard, 
 "I am so sorry ..." 
 
 "Sorry — for whom, sorry for what?" 
 
 "It is finished." 
 
 So it was, all finished. Merciful Father! 
 
 The body was taken to the great home; later to Trinity Episcopal 
 church, thence to Terre Haute, Indiana. In that city in Highland 
 cemetery sleeps Mr. Jacob Baur, in his narrow home, forever and 
 forever. 
 
 In St. Chrysostom's Episcopal church, N. Dearborn street, Chicago, 
 a handsome and striking edifice, there is a three-panel memorial win- 
 dow high above the altar, which was given by Mrs. Baur, in memory of 
 her husband. In its tracings are the rainbow, cross, rose, lily and edel- 
 weiss in richest colors, symbols of a faith that does not falter; the 
 butterfly in memory of her loved family, that symbol of life that 
 should be lived here in our present world by His children, the life 
 joyous, loving, free as her faith teaches it surely is in the beautiful 
 beyond, where it is so fair — 
 
 " . . . how very fair 
 
 It needs must be, since he lingers there." 
 
 At the services for the dedication of this Baur Memorial window, in 
 Mrs. Baur's church, of which congregation her daughter, Miss Rose- 
 mary Baur also is a member, which too place on January 8th, 1918, the 
 minister, Dr. Norman Hutton, read these lines as his apostrophe: 
 
 "Jacob Baur — product of our American genius for organi- 
 zation! He combined wisdom with hard work and built a 
 great business. He sought to be useful, and though he 
 achieved wealth, he appraised it as a by-product. His real 
 interest was in creating an industry that would enhance 
 Chicago's prosperity and offer employment to ambition." 
 
 Happily, the fine couple after enjoying together almost to satiety 
 all other of life's pleasures and experiences, health, travel, society, 
 
Bertha a Three-time Graduate 67 
 
 choice associations, knew the acme of happiness, parenthood, for a brief 
 fourteen months. Friends rejoiced that there came to them baby life, 
 nursery frolics and quiet fireside hours, some ideal evenings of hallowed, 
 homely associations. 
 
 The small daughter on her uncertain little feet, with tiny hands 
 and arms waving for steadiness, flitted through garden and house anx- 
 iously seeking a satisfying presence, some one she could not find, some- 
 times in tearful wonder calling "dadda, dadda," in the unbroken silence. 
 Never more came response "Here, here, mine own little girl;" never 
 answer more to her lispings, or reward for baby-searchings for the 
 vanished hand and longed-for presence. 
 
 Several days after Mr. Baur had gone from his beautiful home for 
 always, the writer called on Mrs. Baur, a frail, shattered figure, found 
 lying very still on a couch in a secluded sleeping porch. There were 
 no tears, no sobbing, only utter quiet. In serenity she looked up and 
 taking the offered hand said in such a soft voice, "I never realized 
 there could ever be such suffering; never have I dreamed that one 
 could lose so much of life and happiness, and still live on." We could 
 not talk. It was a tremendous moment of throb and feeling; two 
 women who knew like loss, tragedy of sudden death, broken hopes, 
 heartaches, loneliness and thoughts of "far uncharted lands." 
 
 "But loss is common to the race," you claim. 
 
 True, quite true, the unescapable heritage, but please be assured, 
 ever and always the poignancy is to the individual soul. Well they 
 two knew that "Never morning wore to evening but what some heart 
 did break." 
 
 Bertha had faced into the valley of the shadow some time before, 
 as do all the mothers of the race, and oh, her return; now her other 
 self had passed through the valley, beyond the shadow, and never 
 more would her world be the same; 
 
 "... a woman gives all that one heart can give 
 To another; she loves once and forever." 
 
 And yet, it is said to the mourner, pleasant memories, rich and 
 happy ones, constitute the one paradise that is never lost. That other 
 self, lover and husband, for three swift-speeding, full and happy years 
 and a little longer, was constantly associated with her happiest 
 moments, richest and lasting recollections, her heights of bliss in that 
 breath of time measured in happiness, aeons measured in sorrow. So 
 always there is a paradise that is hers alone along her solitary way, and 
 in the sacred silences that come to her, as must come to us all. But 
 
68 Our Own Lady 
 
 for a while she reeled; life, the world, all, everything was for her at 
 a standstill, and she became frightfully ill. Shock, aching heart, lone- 
 liness, a fatherless child, vast affairs. 
 
 "Out of the night black as the pit from pole to pole" that enveloped 
 her, could she come back Was there need to do so? 
 
 After such sorrow, devastation of hope, home and prospects what 
 was one to expect? What would the world expect from the sorely- 
 stricken and burdened woman? Had she not performed her part? 
 Had she finished? No, no, not yet that day. It was not yet her 
 evening. 
 
 Seven weeks later, on September the fifth, there was taken a fine form 
 from the waters of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, and by it knelt in awful 
 grief, Mr. and Mrs. Charles G. Dawes, Mrs. Baur's friends for years. 
 The precious body was that of their only son, who was on vacation and 
 thus met his tragic end. 
 
 "He died suddenly in the midst of happiness, with all the noble illu- 
 sions of a high-minded youth undisturbed and undispelled. He died 
 without having lost ambition, with his eyes fixed on the high mountains 
 of life, where, beyond any question, had he lived, he would have 
 climbed. In a man's character is his real career." 
 
 The quotation is from the impressive tribute written by the father, 
 and which was read by the minister in charge of the funeral of the 
 son, Rufus Fearing Dawes, in the great home of his parents in Evans- 
 ton, at Chicago's northern doors. Mrs. Baur heard that tribute over 
 the casket of the unusual young man in the home that never again 
 would be the same to those bereft parents. It was a moment filled with 
 great thoughts. 
 
 This was the occasion of our second meeting since Mr. Baur's death, 
 and we were joined by another during the outpouring of the people into 
 the gardens, at the end of the services of reading, praise, song and 
 prayer. Members of every station paid tribute at that bier in respect 
 for the stricken parents and only sister. 
 
 Our triad was formed by Francis J. Kilkenny, an amiable and ready 
 young lad when we all met at the great headquarters, where as before 
 stated, so many fine friendships had their beginning, an illustration of 
 the fact being our presence in that sorrowing home. Ere the next meet- 
 ing of the three of us, always devoted to Mr. Dawes, and in return being 
 objects of his fine friendship since that interesting, history-making 
 time in 1896, what upheavals, tragedy and red history, with flames 
 and blood were destined to take place, marring the face of the grand 
 old world. And God gave a law unto his prophet, "Thou shalt not 
 kill!" 
 
Bertha a Three-time Graduate 69 
 
 Mrs. Baur's poetical principle is a precious possession. Nothing 
 can extinguish it or prevent its expression. Even when her every-day 
 life was spent in the drab, common-place surroundings of the business 
 world, there is recalled an example of poetry in expression and venera- 
 tion for the holiest instinct — mother love. Since her ninth year she 
 had been motherless. One day while in the heart of Chicago business 
 life, at a time when her surroundings had become beautiful and invit- 
 ing, she bought for fifty cents, while on one of her hurried shopping 
 tours, a tiny brass-framed oval of the lovely Lebrun and her daughter. 
 This she considered an expression of all that was adorable in the 
 world, a mother and her child, the richest sentiment in all languages 
 there expressed; that little token she still treasures and has always 
 loved. Until recently there was in the dining-room of her home but 
 one picture, a fine painting of Mrs. Baur and her daughter, posed 
 similarly to that of the grat portrait painter and her child. Look you 
 at a small decorative feature, a butterfly of gilded bronze at the 
 center of the bottom piece of the frame. By a slight touch it can 
 be moved downward revealing under the sliding ornament, splendidly 
 mortised into the frame, still in its neat brass rim, the tiny fifty-cent 
 purchase of years ago. 
 
 Romance, poetry, mother love, interest, memory, all revealed 
 thereby for those who would know, and who love to know. 
 
 It is believable that Bertha Duppler never had questioned the 
 province of her sex, and those who knew her honesty, knew that she 
 never would do so. At the moment of her interesting romance termi- 
 nating in happy marriage, many there were who thought and felt that 
 she would never give up her place in the business and professional 
 world, a position so enviable, as agreed by all. 
 
 Miss Duppler resigned and Mr. John T. McGrath, who is at this 
 time assistant postmaster, was appointed to her place as secretary to 
 the Chicago postmaster. Even at the hour of severing her connection 
 with the work-a-day world, there were many gossips who avowed that 
 she did not finally close her desk in the big federal building, where she 
 had achieved so grandly, until the afternoon of the day before her 
 wedding. They did not know the lady. Even though the sun never 
 shone upon a happier bride, they maintained and held fast to their 
 contention, that as Bertha Baur, she would be back again in due 
 course at that great desk. 
 
 The gossips not only did not know the lady; they were just gos- 
 sips, not good prophets. She did love her business and professional 
 life, and they were grand affairs to love, but she loved love more, 
 and home and its loved ones, that home and its interests and her place 
 
70 Our Own Lady 
 
 therein. It was very lovely there. Her life's morning had been stir- 
 ring and worth while ; her noon and afternoon would be enriched because 
 of that home. And then — Alas! 
 
 "Achievement counts only when something has been overcome. 
 Even then the overcoming of one thing merely spurs us on to over- 
 come another." 
 
 It is claimed that resignation is the domain of reason, the real triumph 
 of the -soul. Mrs. Baur's triumph has made the world richer by her 
 example, and because of her work for its betterment, by her industry 
 and charity. For her knowledge of economics and for her stern com- 
 monsense, her home community has reason to be grateful, as well also 
 for her bravery in manner of again facing the world. At this midmost 
 of her life with so many activities one wonders at the number of hours 
 in her day, and it seems that she has for every day a fresh beginning. 
 It must be so with her many plans, enterprises and affiliations, her 
 untiring disposition, love for achievement. 
 
 It was at a dinner party a long time ago that she told the story 
 of her learning one of the greatest lessons of her life, sometimes even 
 to this date, she considers it the greatest one, for then and there it 
 was made her own: While passing an old church in Paris, looking up, 
 she read this legend over its ancient portal: 
 
 "Work as if you were to live always, 
 Live as if you were to die tomorrow." 
 
 Hosts of her friends realize this legend as Mrs. Baur's creed. The 
 many-sided woman really loves and enjoys the activities, drive and 
 moil of every day life, utterly loves association with her kind, these 
 are the breath of her nostrils. One believes in her patience and natural- 
 ness in recognizing the essentials, deleting the superfluous and knows 
 that she never wastes time; early it was that she formed the habits, 
 health, work, study, play, and by these it is she keeps eternally young. 
 Another truth made her own and which she tries to live, is the power 
 to bear and repress one's self. Her composure in bearing, and in 
 trying to understand life's problems has always been fine. At the 
 moment of her conquest she hoped for the busy life and would try to 
 do good. Long before the visit to Paris she had learned that victory 
 and success are half won when the work habit is gained, and had 
 wondered who first invented work, ere learning the legend over the 
 ancient portal. Small need for wonder at her accomplishments, or from 
 
Bertha a Three-time Graduate 71 
 
 what source she derives her soul's courage. Every human work and 
 line of endeavor is and ever has been and always will be, the revela- 
 tion of the individual. 
 
 From the beginning, being a woman in any station of life, has been 
 an engrossing enterprise. 
 
 While in a measure for long in the midst of the work women were 
 carrying on to promote the suffrage, taking parts in some of their enter- 
 prises, Mrs. Baur could not systematically and persistently take many 
 parts for performance, owing to personal obligations. Nevertheless, 
 everything tended to broaden her education in all the work carried on 
 by women; to give her acquaintance with every movement of whatever 
 name. She was progressing all the time. To several of the issues she 
 gave much study, sometimes this was for the reason that several of the 
 foremost women leaders were Illinois women, and from the beginning 
 she was imbued with loyalty to home state, home city, home people. 
 But she managed to keep rather close to her quondam associates in 
 the world of political activities; in that field her interest has never 
 lagged. 
 
 Eventually her circumstances became less exacting, and she was 
 able to assume and carry on much strenuous work for the acquisition 
 of the ballot, especially as the contestants were nearing their goal, all 
 of which she cheerfully shared, in our mid-continental endeavors, all 
 of which she saw of course during the fruitful, inspiring years; so it 
 was that the work was carried on, numbers of workers increased, and 
 every year better workers joined the ranks. Few were better situated 
 for momentous times and strenuous endeavors. First of all in her per- 
 fect health. Her wit, reason, logic, invention, amiability, comparisons 
 bubbled forth with equal copiousness, from rostrum and arena. Just 
 as it came about in the plenteousness of time, she took her place 
 promptly amongst and more often at the forefront, of the hundreds of 
 thousands of American women who performed valorously during that 
 cataclysmic time of the world war. 
 
 Just as she had entered believingly into all the work, just so it was 
 that she performed zestfully. She marched, carried banners, made 
 speeches everywhere, at great dinners, rallies, reunions; contributed 
 money and merriment; in truth gave of her best as she always does, 
 in all of the departments. Mrs. Baur is and has always been a good 
 sport in the full meaning of that fine word, and a magnificent cheer- 
 leader. She knows not fear on the front row, none on the firing line. 
 She can take care of herself on any issue. She has skirmished for 
 "votes for women," gone over the top when the big guns roared for 
 
72 
 
 Our Own Lady 
 
 more workers; taken to the trenches to dig for money with which to 
 carry on, and marched in the big parade when all was over. Memory 
 cherishes that time as the unrivalled period in the history of our 
 womankind. For that time and its workers "No cypress shall grow 
 but laurel trees." For in that time and since life was and has been 
 a-wandering, seeking and a-growing, where it was once just a-sitting 
 still and adoring on the part of weak woman. We may not be going 
 so fast, but we are going. 
 
 In June, 1916, a fine moment came for the women then in the full 
 tide of interest preceding the presidential election coming on a few 
 months later. Their dauntlessness in the face of the frolicsome ele- 
 ments undoubtedly tended to advance their cause several leagues, or 
 whatever measure is used in women's progress. The specific happening 
 was known and is so named to this day, as the "Women's Rainy Day 
 Parade." It was both in the large. A day of pouring rain, and a 
 woman's parade of pathetic earnestness, and in wet uniforms, at no 
 moment one bit picturesque. At the moment of the picture in mind, 
 there was a big meeting of women on somewhere, and also the Repub- 
 lican national convention was holding forth in the historic old Coliseum. 
 Just when a fine-speaking, good-looking anti-suffragist was holding 
 forth, carefully emphasizing for the vast assembly of good Republicans 
 that the women did not want the vote ; they would never be interested ; 
 going on oblivious to the fact that the dears have always and forever 
 been wanting everything, above all else wanting to be free. In the 
 moment of her finest fervency, in re-iterating that women did not want 
 the vote, never had wanted it, and if it ever were given to them they 
 would not be enough interested ever to use it, no, never — the great 
 doors swung open and a grand delegation of women marched in from 
 the other meeting (in from the fearsome storm raging without), every 
 one of them drenched sousing wet, a living and rather moving demon- 
 stration that women did want the ballot, were out to get it, and were 
 sure they would get it. Quite sure. At the head of the bedraggled but 
 in no sense dismayed band of believing, earnest, fearless women work- 
 ers, marched Doctor Anna Howard Shaw, Mrs. Carrie Chapman-Catt, 
 and Bertha Baur, carrying the American flag. 
 
 itt* 
 
Bertha a Three-time Graduate 73 
 
 There were cheers and cheers from the convention, which decided 
 that after such a demonstration by those who would risk looks and 
 health in such a march, women very decisively wanted the vote and 
 really ought to have it. It all was splendid, and is matter for mention 
 to this day when those old fighting times are a subject in meetings, or 
 private converse. It was splendid, even unto the fade-out of the hand- 
 some anti, who was a good fighter on the losing side. 
 
 For that evening the suffrage women, Mrs. Chapman-Catt, president 
 were to have a grand affair in the garden of the great home of Mrs. 
 Rockefeller-McCormick, who was then residing abroad. A vast tent 
 had been erected and decorated for their party, illuminations provided, 
 everything made so lovely, nothing more to be desired, some fine touches 
 and courtesies being arranged in their honor on the cabled instructions 
 of the absent-hostess. But it all was of no benefit to anyone, for it 
 just stormed and continued to storm, the wind battered everything to 
 the ground, and rain poured as never before, while Lake Michigan 
 glowered and contorted for all the world as if demons were in a frolic 
 on its floor. A few noted guests and some of the officials, succeeded 
 in reaching the home where they enjoyed an evening of exceeding 
 interest. But that storm. Never will it be forgotten. It made history. 
 
Crowded Hours — Glorious Life 
 
 x 
 
 A faith that has power in it for life's crises and its tasks, is a faith 
 which comes of character resting upon character. 
 
 — Gunsaulus. 
 
 As before stated, at seventeen Miss Duppler was making her own 
 way quite handsomely in the business world. Near at hand in the 
 riddle of destiny was her beginning with the vast workings of a national 
 presidential campaign, where would be formed friendships and acquaint- 
 ances of great moment. Followed those full and tremendous years in 
 the Chicago postal service, in touch with the world; sometimes acting 
 postmaster of her city; the hosts met in the course of her studies in 
 law-school and conservatories; in her church and its work; then mar- 
 riage and her husband's wide connection and their extending circle 
 in their new relationship. How would it be? What course pursue? 
 Could she so perform as to finish the career, as a career, or must hers 
 be a new career? Was there need of a career, or to finish one long 
 since begun? Did she desire one? Could she ever again fill any place 
 in the world? Could she make for herself a place? What had the 
 future in store for her? 
 
 Bertha Baur could make for herself a place in the world, certainly, 
 and pass the marker a very long way, for have we not seen when she 
 became possessed of the truth, that resignation is the domain of reason, 
 that the menace of years would find her unafraid? She has held to that 
 truth. 
 
 That soul-stirring funeral in that Evanston home; that stricken 
 parent's act of tribute! Tremendous! Unforgettable! A starting 
 point. 
 
 Yes, for her another life. That long training? Those ambitions? 
 True, it would be another kind of home! And there would be other 
 duties, other interests, and her child, that young life and its future. 
 
 Growing up an economic success and in social freedom, Bertha Dup- 
 pler Baur, with her ready daring, courageously met the hour in which 
 she became the master of her fate. She did not dream of giving up 
 her child and home for a career, nor did she think it necessary to give 
 up a career for child and home. She need not give up anything, only 
 
 74 
 
Crowded Hours — Glorious Life 75 
 
 she must needs give more of herself, meet the change. It was a differ- 
 ent situation in that tremendous moment from what it had been just a 
 few short years ago. Then the world was different, she was different. 
 When she could bring herself to think, after her bereavement, she 
 asked herself very seriously, very earnestly, if she devoted time to her 
 work and business would she have devotion for her child and their 
 home? 
 
 Carefully considering, applying every particle of her intelligence 
 and sincerity, the decision was that she could be all devotion to her 
 child and their home, and carry on in business and work as well. 
 Women before her time had done so. It might be hard at times, but 
 she was unafraid. 
 
 Owing to that decision she has exemplified as a successful business 
 woman; a fine housekeeper and home maker; marked devotion, unfail- 
 ing and constantly growing interest in all three of her charges, child, 
 career and home. 
 
 With these considerations and matters of such meaning in thought, 
 we approach the moment of the beginning of the major part of it all. 
 We are now well acquainted, and off on the greater lap for which the 
 first was magnificent training. Many, many have had something in 
 life like unto the first; few, while not quitters, have stayed in the 
 game for the final lap, the last relay, with its flags, lights, music, cheers. 
 It has not all been easy, rarely a rose path for this consistent woman. 
 
 But so it was, so it came about by reason of her plans, that ere 
 long Mrs. Baur was engrossed in her husband's business, as active 
 vice-president and as a director in his great concern, the Liquid Car- 
 bonic company. In these capacities she administered for thirteen 
 years, until she disposed of the business in 1926. In this connection 
 it was her experience to meet and know men in all lines of business, 
 from all sections of the country, among them great bankers, scientists 
 and economists. 
 
 Always interested and generally active as far as her obligations 
 would admit, in the big national conventions of her party, and their 
 ensuing campaigns, she continued on so. Somehow she managed time 
 for suffrage work and for her party candidates. She developed into 
 an ardent worker for the suffrage. She served as last president of the 
 Chicago Equal Suffrage association, and continuing active to the con- 
 summation of their work, became instrumental in getting the Nine- 
 teenth Amendment ratified by the Illinois legislature, June 10, 1920, 
 hers being the first state to ratify the measure. Just recall if you 
 can that brilliant ratification dinner at the La Salle hotel in celebration 
 of that act. Nothing in women's work knew its equal in size, enthusi- 
 
76 Our Own Lady 
 
 asm, importance in the history of the city. Everybody attended, mean- 
 ing a large section of the city and the state. Governor and Mrs. Lowden 
 and some of their popular children lent interest. Noted women from 
 all over. Speaker Shanahan, without whom almost no Illinois political 
 seance or woman's rally, anything of a Republican political nature is 
 complete, all the women workers and just plain fans. 
 
 Bertha's first public speech of about a half minute in time was 
 made in a park; on the occasion of the ratification dinner, in proof of 
 her advance and importance in politics, she undertook to make one 
 about two minutes in length, and was going splendidly toward the 
 finish of her third minute (the speakers were allotted three minutes), 
 when — whack! that old gavel! One arm extended in action, lips 
 parted, eyes shining, she made one step backward holding her pose 
 on sitting, and in so doing her art set the Speaker to laughing, which 
 started the cheers, thus the two of them almost ran away with the 
 meeting. Her instant obedience to the law made a fine hit. The chair 
 did not gavel again for a space, or if she did, no one heard it. It was 
 Bertha Baur and for the space of a minute it was her meeting. 
 
 Here seems a good place in which to consider the vast army of this 
 subject's acquaintances. First, the management of her estates, her 
 social, church, club and political engagements, to pour, to speak, to 
 preside and just to be present. Multiply these by the number of days 
 in a week, for months and years to realize her list, acquaintances and 
 friends. 
 
 The darkness that almost overwhelmed her, preceded by a few 
 months the election of a Democratic administration for our nation. 
 Seventeen months after the inauguration of the new President, broke 
 forth the cataclysm that nearly engulfed the world. The thirty-two 
 months following that appalling thunder and clash of red war were 
 full ones for everybody within our boundaries. Indeed there was no 
 counting the affairs into which this capable woman was drawn. For 
 long we would not, could not listen to war's stern alarms. When lo! 
 We were in the maelstrom, in the biggest war that ever has been, and 
 we had not rocked the boat. 
 
 When our nation entered the conflict she was found ready to per- 
 form her part, and at no time following spared of her energy. Recog- 
 nizing her capability, the authorities named her for chairman of the 
 Chicago and Cook County Woman's Division of the Liberty Loan 
 committee, that committee selling $78,000,000 worth of Liberty bonds 
 during the four loans. To make this record she organized 10,000 club 
 women, and this at very small expense to the government. As its chief 
 
Crowded Hours — Glorious Life 77 
 
 she received great praise which she shared with her corps of efficient 
 co-workers, whose accomplishments in their field of effort, won for 
 them lasting honor. Try to measure that titanic work; in addition she 
 was vice-chairman of the Men's Division of the Liberty loan under 
 Mr. Philip R. Clarke, widely known president of the Central Trust 
 Company of Illinois. This company at the moment of this revise is 
 from the present to be known as Central Republic Bank and Trust 
 company, because of the consolidation with the National Bank of the 
 Republic in June, 1931, Mr. Clarke continuing as president. Also Mrs. 
 Baur was vice-chairman of the Illinois state organization of the Liberty 
 loans, under Mrs. Howard Willson, of Virden. 
 
 In connection with the Chicago drives, the larger side of the work 
 for loans, I believe, try to enumerate the luncheons, teas and dinners 
 over which she presided ; figure also the cost to her personally, as many 
 a deficit required to be made good from her purse for those affairs of 
 sociability, try as one would to keep them simple. Beyond most others 
 her desires are to have such assemblies beautifully carried out, whether 
 in simple or formal fashion ; above everything else her desires are that 
 all assisting may enjoy themselves, because, first of all the affairs are 
 intended to be enlivening, good will promoters whether or not they 
 are in war time, political campaigns or for local causes. Thus her 
 art is always in service, the art which is not a thing separate and apart, 
 but is the beautiful way of doing things, of saying things that please, 
 a mild kind of flattery it is true, but it works. Always in social affairs 
 there must be used some flattery, that is the gist of sociability, pleasing 
 people. But does it matter? Kindly persuasion always overrides nag- 
 ging, whatever the situation. 
 
 Mrs. Baur agrees with the philosopher who tells us to cultivate the 
 pleasure of the table, as that sense will remain when all the others have 
 dulled; that the high mark of civilization is to appreciate the pleasure 
 of the palate. She is a connoisseur of table luxuries, manners and cus- 
 toms, the Epicurian philosophy as it pertains to good eating, beauti- 
 fully served viands; a bon vivant, but not luxuriant or pampered. A 
 very useful art, that of dining as well as pleasurable, for dinners have 
 a way of dispelling differences. Our people everywhere appear more 
 and more to indulge in dinner-giving, in private and public, in homes, 
 hotels, settlements, clubs, anywhere, in all seasons. Sometimes it is 
 declared that we are fast coming to rival the British who are past 
 masters, along with the proud French, in the pleasurable art. Some 
 declare that already we are become dinner table diplomats and poli- 
 
78 Our Own Lady 
 
 ticians, and constantly growing more proficient. The great under- 
 takings in this line that are devised and successfully conducted by our 
 women are arresting. 
 
 Giving credit where it is due, it is illuminating to regard how the 
 racial elements everywhere among us excel in the festive manner of 
 entertainment. Frequently it plays havoc with politics, or maybe it is 
 the politicians, in strenuous times, for menu cards not infrequently 
 carry more than a hand list of what we have to eat. Many of these 
 dinner-givers can do the act to a turn in elegance of ease and assur- 
 ance, whether the environments are rich or not so rich, for family 
 reunions, political maneuvers, for politicians, christenings, saints' days, 
 birthdays, for opera singers, or just plain notabilities, and all enjoy a 
 fine time as well as dine well. More than one perfectly plain and 
 trustworthy American has become a "lame duck" owing to his fond- 
 ness for dining at the imported mahogany. Others issue invitations 
 and lo, there is something to talk about and discuss for a long time, 
 among those who have dined and danced in their handsome clubs. 
 To know their home hospitality, or the warmth and geniality of their 
 clubs, is to have lasting appreciation of sociability, as prevails in yet 
 another group that enjoys life's refinements, a people that find their 
 fullest expression in nice features. Scenes in semi-Oriental taste in 
 furnishings, atmosphere of charm and finish, people of another race, 
 characterized by the love of gaiety, the cheerful life, good living, danc- 
 ing and the fine dressing and appearance of their distinguished women, 
 come to mind. Just a little time ago and none of these mind pictures 
 of a wonder city's possessions. Now the city has hundreds of exam- 
 ples of cultural growth in various institutions of appreciative nationals, 
 in the form of great clubs, associations, chapters, temples and circles; 
 valuable assets, these. 
 
 So it was in this melting cauldron of our nation, that much sway 
 was given to the practice of the art of dining and to social meetings, 
 and being in war time, mostly of quiet and enjoyable character. In 
 one sense such were the needs of the hour to bolster up the often 
 bedraggled spirits of the people. Then at times the war seemed so 
 far away, but the drafts made upon us all were soon found to be 
 close enough at hand to dispel that feeling. So there continued the 
 simple luncheons and cordial teaing everywhere (the women as a rule 
 carrying their own sugar), for very soon everybody was busy, each 
 one doing the thing or part that could be done with whatever means at 
 hand. The first thing was to get the workers together to cultivate the 
 frame of mind necessary for good team work; to give all a chance; to 
 make opportunity for all who wished to do everything possible; to 
 
Crowded Hours — Glorious Life 79 
 
 give proper credit and expression of appreciation in all the amenities, 
 that there should be no waste of energy, unnecessary duplication, but 
 rather, order, harmony and concentration of effort. The plan worked 
 everywhere. 
 
 All the plans worked, from the first moment of the tocsin, even 
 though there prevailed confusion and loss, as always is the case, 
 ineradicable features and a certainty of awful war. The patriotism 
 and readiness, the sacrifices of our women, afforded inspiration, many 
 of their trials were beautiful tests, thoroughly convincing that "National 
 enthusiasm is the great nursery of genius," quoting an expression made 
 use of by some one in admiration of President Wilson's master hand 
 when his great nation's united effort was his need. 
 
 "That enviable poise of character which we call serenity is the last 
 lesson of culture; it is the flowering of life, the fruitage of the soul." 
 
 Mrs. Baur's work in those tremendous years of a world's war, was 
 phenomenal, and always performed with apparent ease. She thrills 
 to success; comparable with the French soldiers, she enjoys the charge. 
 To them, pourtant, the path of glory lies in the charge, then theirs is 
 dash and fire, flashing bayonets, and on their lips the cry "Pour la 
 gloire." But then all soldiers are magnificent. So is Mrs. Baur inspir- 
 ing in action, for to her as to the fine soldier, "One crowded hour of 
 glorious life is worth an age without a name." 
 
 To picture her quality of work and something of her staying powers, 
 it is not out of place to refer here to a lively occasion at the Black- 
 stone hotel preparatory and preliminary to the launching of one of the 
 Liberty loans, one occasion of many marked by the same character- 
 istics. It was a tremendous gathering of women, they were every- 
 where, with only a sprinkle of men. The great ballroom was aglow to 
 the ceiling, the galleries packed. Slender, lithe and active, radiating 
 good cheer, she socialized for a time on the floor and in the great cor- 
 ridors. Promptly on the moment for the call she passed to the rostrum, 
 gavel carried as a field marshal's baton, and waved the small symbol of 
 authority for order. She stood at ease during a moment of applause 
 and cheers, a stirring figure in all black, soft white cuffs and band 
 collar, fine head topped ever so becomingly with a tri-corn or "Fille-du- 
 Regiment" chapeau. That call for "order," and the day had begun. 
 
 The meeting was so enjoyable, picturesque, stirring, spontaneous and 
 interesting, withal pathetic, at times dramatic, that one slightly recoiled 
 when there came the thought of its purpose; that we were in war-time; 
 that over yonder such suffering, worry and want, mud, smoke, roar, 
 
80 Our Own Lady 
 
 blood, cold, rain and darkness. Awful the mind's picture! All this 
 of course the president knew and saw in her clear mind. She used it 
 all in appeal. Ours was to raise money to help end it all. We must 
 do it. 
 
 Everyone was heard who had anything to say. Introductions aplenty 
 were made, statements given, telegrams read, leaders named, com- 
 mittees appointed, dates fixed. There she worked, listened, directed 
 and spoke or made statements, and had others to speak and make 
 statements. It was an assembly of able and eager women. 
 
 At the right of the animated president sat Lillian Russell, at one 
 time considered the handsomest woman in the United States. Who 
 that ever heard her voice can fail to recall its golden quality. None 
 can forget her lovely personality, not to mention her stage work, her 
 writings and lectures. Miss Russell made a fine speech. It reflected 
 her patriotism, readiness for any assignment, and at the moment she 
 was in the midst of great undertakings. She was thrilling. Her driv- 
 ing work for the government during those times of trial was likely 
 a contributing cause that ended her life ere long, good soldier that she 
 was. How entirely she deserved the military funeral, that long roll 
 of drums, ordered by her nation's President. She died as the wife of Mr. 
 Alexander P. Moore, an able and successful citizen of Pittsburgh, to 
 whom she was married in 1912. 
 
 Seated by Miss Russell was another who also spoke, in the person 
 of Miss Edna Ferber, dark-eyed, vivid and of enviable success. Miss 
 Ferber startled that Blackstone ballroom audience with the state- 
 ment, that by nature all women are squirrels — hiding their money in 
 teapots, under the paper in dresser-drawers and other such places of 
 like safety and security. Money was wanted, you see, the securing 
 of that one commodity being the cause of the enthralling meeting. 
 
 The presence of Miss Russell, the artist to her finger tips, for so 
 long a stage favorite, widely traveled and of remarkable associations, 
 histronically, socially and politically, afforded a telling example with 
 which to compare the president's culture and fitness. Both were 
 admired and their joint endeavors in the meeting were greatly enjoyed 
 by the assembly, which in turn it can be said, was dominated and made 
 remarkable by the concerted work of these mid-west women, one a 
 daughter of Iowa, one from Michigan, the other Wisconsin's gift. 
 
 Another occasion illustrates rather rigid self-discipline. It was a 
 Sunday dinner party at her home for one o'clock. On the stroke of 
 the hour she led her party of ten in to a fine dinner. It was a happy, 
 brilliant hour. On the stroke of two, rising, showering small bunches 
 of fresh flowers towards her guests, she bade them enjoy themselves 
 
Crowded Hours — Glorious Life 81 
 
 just as they wished, and for as long, saying the place was theirs, that 
 she was off for her war work as usual, Sunday and every day, where 
 she would be occupied until six o'clock. The guests gathered up 
 their posies and enjoyed another hour or so in pleasant association. 
 
 During the war the workers, and nearly everybody was in that 
 category, had not much chance for anything but work and delivery, 
 not much inclination, most of them. There is remembered a particu- 
 larly gripping moment in show of filial devotion and patriotic desire 
 to carry on ; some workers were in for instructions and more materials. 
 Suddenly entered in snappy gait a dark-eyed, diminutive femme, of 
 the sober, bewitching age of maybe seven years, in her hand a cook's 
 spoon longer than her arm. Noticing no one at all on nearing her 
 parent's piled on pile, and crowded desk, she asked, "Mother, dearie, 
 if you please, which is it we boil for twenty minutes, an egg or a 
 potato?" 
 
 Every dinner, every reunion, had for its object the collection of 
 money, bundles or something, and many of us had but little money 
 and not much work. There were Liberty bonds; no escaping them. 
 Every official or manager, every concern seemed to have the one old 
 shibboleth, "One hundred per cent subscription required from this 
 office." So it was with all loans, saving stamps; the tag days, and 
 "fags" days; the buddies' sweets, the buddies' that and this; for the 
 Salvation army; the starving women and children away off there east 
 of the war's roar and glare; the distressed Jews; Y. W. C. A. and 
 Y. M. C. A.; for mothers' day; doughnut day; victims of this, of 
 that, flood, broken dams, earthquakes; our old people; the crippled chil- 
 dren; but no use to name more causes in need of our hard earnings, 
 everybody remembers them all. The workers for their daily bread, 
 had nothing left, nothing at all, some of them not even enough daily 
 bread. It has been truly named just what it was, a world's war, sin- 
 cerely, awfully so. 
 
 Many of the working girls and business women would wash and 
 iron shirtwaists at night after a full day's work, would they appear 
 decently fresh and tidy the next day or so. But few had a second 
 pair of shoes or of gloves at the same time. This historian recalls 
 wearing a rather nice pair of shoes for some time, but they were not 
 mates, which was a little better than the fortune of the poor little 
 ragged boys in Rome, who appeared perfectly happy wearing a half 
 shoe on each foot. Here no one in the big parade appeared to notice 
 her style in dress. As to gloves she had none for a very long time, and 
 recalls wearing one hat for Sunday's best for two years, and then a 
 year for every day to office and return, and during that time it was 
 
82 Our Own Lady 
 
 loaned to another girl for a few special occasions, which means that 
 hers was more worn and less respectable in appearance. Three years 
 of constant service made of the historian's a picture hat. There were 
 no "most embarrassing moments" during those rigorous few years. 
 They were frontier days over again. 
 
 Money and bundles required made of us war victims, in many cases 
 very seriously so; but no one gave us any attention. It was not ours 
 to reason why, but ours to do and try, which is the best of life. 
 
 Mrs. Baur had for long been a recognized authority on the subject 
 of finance. During her work with the Liberty Loan committee, she 
 was brought to realize the deficiency and lack of knowledge that pre- 
 vails among average women with regard to money matters. 
 
 Through an investment corporation, in which she served as a director, 
 she helped in the creation of a woman's department for the company. 
 Classes were formed and before them she spoke and gave instructions 
 on the principles of investments. Hundreds of women attended these 
 classes, and there learned helpful lessons that applied to the better 
 management of their personal affairs. Those fruitful talks and lectures 
 were carried on for a long time. She rendered these lectures and talks 
 before several women's clubs, feeling complimented on being invited to 
 do so, as in every case they were bands of women who wished to 
 carry on, all wishing to keep responsible, to be of help in the world, 
 at least to be equal to their own personal affairs. 
 
 When it all was ended, the war, Liberty loans, work of innumerable 
 committees, everybody turning to other matters such as re-construction, 
 and the longed-for season of "coming back" was everywhere in the 
 air; rehabilitation, hospitalization, and the problems of work and 
 wages become startling, she served as vice-chairman of the Chicago 
 Relief committee which raised in her city, even in that distressful 
 time, the sum of $750,000 for the innocent sick and starving children 
 of Germany. Imagine! Startling! 
 
 During the Campaign for the $60,000,000 bond issue for good roads, 
 this versatile woman served as a member of the executive committee, 
 Illinois Highway Improvement association, in 1918-19, Colonel Wil- 
 liam G. Edens, being the chairman. As before stated herein, Mrs. 
 Baur is supposed to know about road building and its cost, and about 
 highways, and let us feel that she really does know, equally well with 
 the Irish Lady Margaret about whom we spoke. 
 
 One mid-afternoon late in 1919 came an invitation to dine with Mrs. 
 Baur in her home, at seven o'clock, whereon was the added pleasurable 
 statement, "Francis has arrived from overseas, and will be with us." 
 
 The one to be welcomed from overseas was Lieutenant Francis J. 
 Kilkenny, aide to General Dawes through all his service in the world 
 
Crowded Hours — Glorious Life 83 
 
 war, by name before mentioned. A child of beauteous Erin, it there- 
 fore was perfectly natural that the gallant Francis should appear early 
 at the scene of conflict, and as natural it follows that he remained late. 
 His a suggestive patronymic, if one may be pardoned a familiarity, for 
 one so amiable, to which he has added lustre. I cannot find in history 
 anything relating that he ever had or has, any relationship whatever 
 with the locality of Byron's famous. 
 
 ". . . . two cats in Kilkenny 
 Who fit and fit till cats there weren't any." 
 
 In our reunion in the dear home, the one on Cedar street, we danced 
 a minute or two in sheer happiness, in the living room, or maybe for 
 just a moment, as little Miss Baur, from her diminutive rocker, was 
 kind enough to pipe up, "You do look so funny." Truth, no doubt. 
 The epigram brought us back to earth and becomingness. Likely we 
 looked jolly, no telling at this date as to how "funny," but certainly 
 we were three happy grownups; happy in some memories of the long 
 ago, and because the war was over, for Francis was home again. 
 
 There followed the diner a trois! Oh, memory! 
 
 At the head of the attractive table the unfailing friend-hostess, at 
 one side the young officer, at the other this writer. Years ago, we 
 three, all poor but happy and expectant, living enthusiasm and go, 
 yearning to gain place, wealth maybe, power too; longing to know 
 service, hoping to make good, to have and to hold, met and became 
 friends in the great McKinley headquarters. Francis then just a lad 
 a very recent arrival from the most famous island in the world, and 
 foremost among the worthiest of the many. At this reunion dinner we 
 nearly talked the roof down. Here in this fine home, the same trio 
 of a long time ago, and in the words of a weary old comrade, Gad, 
 but we'd lived. Yes, we had lived life to the hilt, each one of us. There 
 were questions and answers, pathos, wit, laughter, praise, sympathy, 
 tears and more questions. Emotions, thrill, yes, aplenty. It was a 
 memorable dinner party. 
 
 We learned of the unessential buttons on General Dawes' uniform 
 and what was done to those buttons; how badly his putties hurt him 
 and why. We saw him in the big war-auto with the Commandant, they 
 who had been friends since those early days in Lincoln, Nebraska. 
 The General on the right, grim, silent, looking with brimming eyes 
 on the torn world about him, his mind far away by the peaceful South- 
 ern sea, the memory of whose roll and murmur reflects the awful holo- 
 caust at the Presidio, San Francisco, which left to him a tiny baby son, 
 
84 Our Own Lady 
 
 and none other; a world of sorrow and a life-long heartache. General 
 Pershing's companian overlooking from his window those tormented 
 stretches, hearing the roar and rumble "and the deep thunder peal on 
 peal;" feeling the quaking made by the big guns, with tears and choking 
 was seeing only that cherished young form brought to him and his 
 from the floor of Lake Geneva on an unforgettable September day. 
 
 Since the tremendous scene in that home in Evanston, just seven 
 years in the past, we three had not met until this dinner hour in 
 Bertha's home. 
 
 From Francis that evening we learned more of the awful life of 
 men at war than we ever had dreamed possible to be endured in this 
 or any other world. And Francis was not a combat man. But he 
 saw everything, and oh, his endurance! That there were times and 
 for long stretches that he had been so tired, so utterly frazzled, so 
 driven to almost the breaking point, moments in which he really 
 believed he could never again rest, or have or know the sense of rest 
 or repose. Of his going for as long as three weeks and never out of 
 his clothes for sleep or change. Then he warned us, "But let us think 
 for a moment of those blessed boys in the trenches!" Almost in the 
 same breath, his two listeners, with welling eyes quoted: 
 
 "Lord God of hosts, be with us yet, 
 Lest we forget — lest we forget!" 
 
 We learned a little about the life of the officers in war in a strange 
 land; about statesmen whose burdens proved almost terrifying, that 
 during the fiery period all were so intense in effort, everyone giving of 
 his best is how it accounts for none seeming to tower above all others. 
 The gigantic conflict drew in giants. In the words of General Schley 
 at Santiago de Cuba, "There was glory enough for all," even were 
 they giants. The subject of the President and Mrs. Wilson in France, 
 their presence at Versailles, life in Paris, visits to London, Rome and 
 Brussels, was lightly touched upon. Francis saw very much, his 
 excellent memory aids him to relate well; he seizes the salient features 
 of a given situation, its highest interest-matter with beautiful sureness. 
 He has lived so much at the front in our country's affairs, from being 
 so long in the entourage of General Dawes, that he has material 
 for a fine story if only he would write. He has lived a full life in his 
 adopted country. 
 
Politics is Politics 
 
 XI 
 
 Graduating with honor from war work, a piece of every character 
 (excepting the carrying of arms and directing a ship), of which fell to 
 her willing hands, a little of which we have told about, but only a 
 little of it, Mrs. Baur set out on her third journey to Europe. 
 
 On the occasion she went an accredited delegate from the United 
 States to the International Suffrage convention held in Geneva, in 
 June, 1920. 
 
 There, as naturally would be the case, she met worthwhile and dis- 
 tinguished people from many countries, and likewise became known to 
 them. A world's convention in these times held in any country by 
 vast organizations, is a momentous gathering, and from such one 
 returns rich in a thousand subjects; both mind and heart enlarged 
 with ideas for the betterment of mankind. The world grows richer 
 as the acquaintance of its peoples widens, becomes friendlier for us 
 all. Let it be our prayers that world's conventions continue to multi- 
 ply in number and continue to grow bigger and better every year. 
 
 Home again, where very soon she would be in the thick of political 
 affairs of the presidential quadrennial. Our party's nominee for com- 
 mander-in-chief for all the forces was the lovable the Honorable War- 
 ren Gamaliel Harding, United States Senator from Ohio; his running- 
 mate his Excellency Calvin Coolidge, the imperturable, distinguished 
 Yankee and good man, then governor of the proud uncommonwealth of 
 Massachusetts, who was destined to succeed to the Presidency on the 
 death of his Chief, in August, 1923. 
 
 An hour or so after her arrival home, from exercising delegate author- 
 ity in a world's capital, enjoying the experience and the journey the 
 convention occasioned, and while at dinner, a call was made at her 
 home by a business woman-politician. The caller was commissioned 
 to invite the returned voyager to make a speech before a meeting of 
 business women interested in politics, and a few local candidates, 
 planned for an early date. Mrs. Baur's appreciation of the early 
 worker is well known, as well does she esteem the business woman, 
 and a whit more maybe the business woman-politician. They are the 
 women thoroughly interested, and they know how to get things done; 
 
 85 
 
86 Our Own Lady 
 
 they know details and how to work hard, are disciplined and unafraid. 
 They know politics is politics. That there cannot be one kind for men 
 and another kind for themselves; that the rules for succeeding remain 
 constant just as the rules in business remain constant, no matter at 
 all who plays the game. One serious trouble is that such women are 
 two few in numbers, but their numbers are increasing every year. She 
 promptly received the early caller and was greatly interested; she 
 would like time to dress for the evening; a moment in which to look 
 over a sheaf of press clippings about her visit abroad and her return, 
 carried to her by the alert Miss B. W. P. In face of these emergencies 
 it was exactly Bertha Baur as of old (just the same also in these 
 parlous times), to direct that her caller take that time for dining, even 
 though all by her own self, sending her to the dining room. In a few 
 moments entered Brown with a splendid dinner for which he received 
 the blessing of the famished business woman-politician. 
 
 The mission was a success; Mrs. Baur would speak for the business 
 women and their local candidates, and in addition be happy as a favor 
 asked for, but hardly counted on, to tell the meeting about some of 
 the high-lights, some of the great men and women she had met, heard 
 and enjoyed during her absence. One of the notables she had enjoyed 
 meeting was Lady Astor, M. P., about whom she told the meeting 
 several fine things. Both American-born, they had enjoyed much 
 in common during their delightful visit. Mrs. Baur had been assured 
 that no other assembly would more utterly enjoy such a contribution, 
 along with their politics. Attending the fine meeting were not only 
 some of the candidates but several men of high standing, sent to 
 represent candidates unable to be in three or four places at the same 
 time. Her speech was enjoyable as was her little postscript about her 
 trip, and some pleasant personalities indulged owing to the presence 
 of old-time friends and associates, but interest was enhanced by the 
 woman's appearance. She was re-vivified, as it were; rested, changed 
 unbelievably; some extra gravity of manner and countenance taken on 
 during the hard press of war-time all gone, and she was unapproachable 
 in latest style of costume; debonair, seeming to rejoice at being again 
 at home among us all. It was a capital afternoon and evening. 
 
 Contrasts loom in great numbers, striking ones, all along this woman's 
 wondrous course. All times, all places, many countries, all people, all 
 callings. It is remarkable. 
 
 Long ago the Romans looked upon the ability to impress people by 
 one's personal presence as the gift of gifts, a point of the highest art; 
 it is this art, the idea of attaining to it, that is the desire of the 
 
Politics Is Politics 87 
 
 polite world. Some take it on instinctively, some are born with it, 
 and with some it develops until it clothes one as with an invisible 
 mantle. Bertha Baur has this art, and by its sway she is stamped as 
 belonging to the polite, the cultured world, without any question as to 
 birth, possessions or where she has lived. Her personality, art, ability 
 to attract and hold attention and interest, make of her a marked 
 figure. She is to the manner born. 
 
 The speeches over, there would be sociability and tea, when by some- 
 one she was asked would it be too much for her "to pour out" the 
 tea, as our British cousins term the hospitable and pretty service. 
 She sat at table and poured and poured; chatted, joked a bit, had a 
 nip and a bite, a merry hour, shook hands with many and had a 
 word for each as they departed, then lingered on until late evening. 
 She had worked hours and was not fazed. It was her meeting, entirely 
 so. Her neighborliness owed to the presence of a long time friend in 
 the person of Mrs. Coyne, wife of her one-time chief and most excel- 
 lent and helpful friend, the ex-postmaster, Mr. Frederick E. Coyne. 
 That lingering small group of old time friends and acquaintances, came 
 within a nail of talking the roof off in their wholesome visiting of 
 old-time fashion. In no sense to be considered fulsome, over praise- 
 ful, is to remark the abandon of this woman of the world when among 
 her friends on occasion; is something to note and long remember; her 
 adaptability and joyousness afford pleasure to all, fascination, allure. 
 One might come to feel that Bertha Baur specializes in being agree- 
 able. Not so. She is at all times her natural self. She always advises, 
 "be yourself." 
 
 That women's meeting during the afternoon and evening, was one 
 of their best ever, and all talked over the whole affair, its success and 
 just how it came about, for as a matter of fact, Tbpsy-like it almost 
 "growed," owing to press of affairs in which its promoters were 
 immersed. Much owed to Mrs. Baur's interest and sustained anima- 
 tion, coupled with the interest all present had in her. As business and 
 political women they recognized her as one of themselves, and joyed in 
 her ability, success and growing name and fame. The affair provided 
 an example in one really interested in life's affairs, one of untiring indus- 
 try and application; they were gratified and satisfied. 
 
 Other pens can better depict scenes like unto that occasion, in the 
 varied activities of the erstwhile business woman, as well as contrasts 
 she so constantly affords. They abound in plenty. 
 
 During the campaign, which had opened while Mrs. Baur was in 
 Europe, she paid a visit to Senator and Mrs. Harding in their home 
 
88 Our Own Lady 
 
 in Marion, Ohio, exactly as she had done years before in the case of 
 Major and Mrs. McKinley in Canton, during their front porch recep- 
 tion days in the campaign without a parallel. 
 
 One of her pet hobbies is to present the Chicago postoffke employees 
 with red carnations on the birthday anniversary of William McKinley. 
 As promptly as the 29th day of January arrives Mrs. Baur appears on 
 her memorial visit to the big federal block, with great quantities of the 
 martyr-President's favorite flower. 
 
 Mrs. Baur's multiplicity of interests always has been intriguing, 
 especially so in the matter of politics. A constantly widening acquaint- 
 ance had long ago increased her effectiveness, almost from her begin- 
 nings. This fact was often remarked in every campaign. The result 
 of our ticket in 1920 gave us all great satisfaction. The change of the 
 administration back to our party afforded much promise. It certainly 
 encouraged startling efforts on the part of various active partisans 
 with ambitions; in several instances these flowered handsomely in local 
 fields. 
 
 In the summer of 1921 the mother and young daughter enjoyed a 
 trip to Honolulu, away off there in the Paradise land of the Pacific. 
 Previous to this for a few seasons they had spent the summer months 
 in different places of interest on the New England coast. At mention 
 of the mid-Pacific visit it is timely to state that Mrs. Baur has made 
 nine visits to Europe, one of them extending on to Africa as we know. 
 At this writing she has just departed on her tenth visit over there, for 
 pleasure, change and acquaintance. She seems to go back to the play- 
 time of her life, when off there in the cultivated, glorious old world. 
 On her eighth vacation she had five weeks in Russia in Europe, and 
 returned after quite a lengthy sojourn there and otherwheres, with 
 much information gleaned during the summer, bringing home many 
 pictures of great interest. 
 
 For seven years from early winter, she regularly gave her course 
 of free lectures on the A B C's of Finance, at the La Salle hotel, the 
 series hereinbefore mentioned as to their origin. These had for patrons 
 interested and helpful men from the city's leading banks and financial 
 houses, some of them prominent in lines of large civic interests. The 
 lectures were popular among great numbers and regularly attended by 
 many women interested in the subject, especially interested, it must be 
 added, in the manner of teaching by one of such unusual practical 
 knowledge, and illuminating contacts. 
 
 Came the Coolidge-Dawes presidential campaign, 1924, brimming 
 with interest. Women had been growing more and more interested in 
 politics now that they had the ballot, also owing much to their activi- 
 
Politics Is Politics 89 
 
 ties during the war. In that needful time (its needs were men, women's 
 work and money and more money) very many of them were brought 
 out into the open of life's big affairs for the first time. They cultivated 
 their opportunities and sought practice and soon were keeping pace 
 with the veterans in whatever cause. Women are like that. They 
 train very quickly. Also as quickly slacken in effort, drop by the way- 
 side. As politicians they are volatile. But they are improving. 
 
 Naturally, as with all of us, Mrs. Baur joys in the right of women 
 to seek public office, knowing their fitness, and we are grateful that 
 several states have women members in their legislatures, that several 
 have sent them as members in the national house of representatives, one 
 of these, Mrs. Ruth Hanna McCormick, until recently a representative 
 of the whole State of Illinois, as congresswoman-at-large. 
 
 There is no reason, and there never has been one, for the lack of 
 political ambition on the part of women within this commonwealth of 
 Illinois. It is a big state, a powerful one and very conservative. But 
 these facts are not frightful. In the course of time, likely we shall have 
 women in our national congress. We certainly have the capable 
 women, with no question about it. The fact that we have had the 
 vote but for a few years may be the reason that no woman has yet set 
 out to make a career in politics. It is too early. So far as politicians 
 per se they have not been successful, or a political success in any meas- 
 ure. Their undertakings in political matters have been too sporadic. 
 Another reason is the money requirement among the suitable average, 
 and too much money among the rich. But most likely the main reason 
 is and will be for a long time, the women of this country are too happy. 
 They have so much, therefore it is they have a good time. It is better 
 fun. 
 
 Mrs. McCormick decidedly was an exception. Hers had been the 
 finest possible political training, as from girlhood to the present she 
 had been schooled in practical politics, first by her famous father, Mr. 
 Mark Hanna, of Ohio, then owing to her husband, bred, born and 
 brought up in politics, who served Illinois in both houses of the 
 national congress, so that when she set out on her own to win place 
 for herself, she set about her political career just as any well-trained 
 politician. She will live in history as one of the two forerunners of our 
 new woman in politics. Mrs. Gifford Pinchot is the other. She quali- 
 fies for place among practical exponents of the public and political life 
 owing to her association with her husband in his tremendous political 
 activity. Mrs. Pinchot is entirely at home in affairs of government, 
 in the world of government affairs, and knows parties as but few ever 
 have. Besides she knows her Pennsylvania well. 
 
90 Our Own Lady 
 
 A knowing one pertinently questions, "What about the women who 
 have been governors of states?" 
 
 Well, it appears their positions were not triumphs in the politics of 
 great Texas and Wyoming. Rather were the ladies objects of sym- 
 pathy, or accidents to politics. The one succeeded her deceased gov- 
 ernor-husband as Excellency in the State first to give women political 
 equality, an appropriate gesture. The other succeeded in reaching the 
 governor's chair because the chivalry of her State admired the won- 
 derful woman's brave struggle to prove to the world that her husband 
 had been a real governor, had performed according to his oath. 
 Neither lady had the political training that made the men governors 
 successful in state politics. 
 
 Women may never be equally skillful with men in the most fas- 
 cinating arena of human endeavor. It is such a hoary game, and there 
 are so many pitfalls on the way. The game has not one primrose 
 path of dalliance; it is not flirtatious, has lions on the stair. We have 
 no finished results for comparison. Few precedents. Nothing of 
 sufficient importance yet has taken place whereby to establish values. 
 It is doubtless just as well, for who knows to the contrary it may be 
 that in course of time and change, women will alter or be the cause 
 of changing, the whole vast machinery of government, alter entirely 
 the real practice of the art of politics. At this time one needs only 
 to remark the leaning of the tower as demonstrated by the appoint- 
 ment of so many commissions or committees. The opening of Eden's 
 gate is in thought; a feminine mite in action seems to have pointed 
 the way to activities for all coming after. In mind also the present 
 restless, driving mankind dwelling in that old-time, drowsy Eden. And 
 what about Eden, had the gates never been opened? Nobody cares to 
 know more than that Eve was discontented with conditions. 
 
 Women remain women, there is no other kind for comparison. 
 Same as to men. But it is surmised that in time if things that should 
 be done, must be done, if not by men, who love to lead, women will 
 see to the doing, maybe also to the leading. However it all may be, 
 possessions of small value are not much appreciated, it remains ours 
 to work on for whatever it is we hope to secure or attain. But we must 
 work as women, try for originality, and so live and perform our work 
 or parts that when our day arrives we shall not be found wanting. 
 Let us keep responsible. A truth is the power of the sexes is very 
 evenly divided. Men learn from women quite as much as women learn 
 from men. Together they shape the world's affairs. It is our world 
 and God's, whether or not we are content with the arrangements. 
 
 Among women none could have entertained more or earnest hope for 
 
Politics Is Politics 91 
 
 our party's success than Mrs. Baur and this writer. Was not General 
 Dawes at our splendid beginning? Had his friendship ever failed 
 either of us? And how many of our friends he had helped. As for 
 Massachusetts, there she stood as always she stands. Her fine adopted 
 son, her governor — we can choose no encomiums for him — he is 
 encomium. Then it was that this subject in person found fullest cause 
 and happiest action for her ambition and ability. 
 
 Always active at Republican national headquarters in Chicago in 
 some capacity, as the quadrennials arrived, naturally none would 
 work harder in the campaign for Coolidge and Dawes, or would be 
 likely to accomplish more for her party's nominees. 
 
 Named the head of women's work for raising funds, the first requi- 
 site always and same old story, as leader she needs must preside at 
 many affairs. These took the form of meetings for laying plans, hear- 
 ing speeches, devising ways and means for securing money and garner- 
 ing votes; and there were those fine breakfasts at Greylings, in the 
 beautiful buildings of the Wrigleys on the river brink wherein also 
 were the national headquarters, furnishing the ever popular attraction 
 to Chicagoans and hundreds and hundreds of visitors from everywhere. 
 There also the women had their headquarters in which to receive, and 
 carry on their work. 
 
 More and more women are making breakfasts and luncheons, not 
 to mention teas, into real institutions for the conduct of their work in 
 political campaigns. Their great dinners too are beguiling and of 
 much comfort as social variations for making acquaintance. But the 
 former are more popular; they draw in the women who enjoy informal 
 affairs that react to emphasize friendliness and personal interest; 
 bring into play more of the community spirit, desirable among men 
 as well as among women. The simple food and nice service afford 
 timely moments for a kind of training in public service, conduce to 
 courtesy and use of tact, point to how and when to speak, afford 
 informality without intimacy that reveals the value of exchanging 
 ideas. In our work every woman who came formed the habit, and 
 each time thereafter as surely brought in another, sometimes several. 
 They became acquainted, contributed funds, raised various sums, and 
 none ever stood on the manner of doing, or want of time in their agree- 
 able methods among neighbors and acquaintances. All worked hard. 
 A delightful thought comes anent the acquaintances thus formed, those 
 several moments of social satisfaction realized; that with so many 
 the time and place seemed provided for the overcoming of self-con- 
 sciousness, as well for seeing, hearing and learning, often as in so many 
 instances, taking an active part very soon, or deciding very soon to 
 
92 Our Own Lady 
 
 do so. It all was good to behold, a proof of the fascination of the 
 political game. An interesting and joyous season. The leader attended 
 almost everywhere; present at meetings in homes, halls, clubs, pre- 
 siding, making short speeches, and seeing to it that every one who 
 could speak or make a try at doing so, should have the time in which 
 to speak or make the trial. This has always been one of Mrs. Baur's 
 policies, and is one of her best. This enlivening woman is suspected 
 of being a Lady Abou Ben Adhem with regard to her feelings for her 
 fellow-women workers. She almost dominates a political meeting of 
 women; when she is in action it seems that everything revolves around 
 her. Earnestness is her driving force next to the importance of the 
 matter in hand; to see her work is worth the trip as well as your con- 
 tribution, and neither will escape her knowing about it. It is not over- 
 praise to state that she never talks big, never startles; never orders 
 or directs the unusual; simply presides and is equal; no flourishes or 
 extras; she knows everybody, and what she can do, or has done, and 
 straightway gives that one something to do, and thus captures the 
 interest that induces enthusiastic service. 
 
 A light eater, generally she takes her luncheon on the platform at 
 the presiding officer's table, sometimes on the side before the opening, 
 and when that happens please note the following on of the tea or 
 coffeepot, the one or other in place before her as she takes up and 
 progresses with the business of the session. One or other of these seems 
 to appertain to the business of presiding, making introductions, listen- 
 ing to speeches, keeping order, as carried on by Bertha Baur. She 
 makes presentations when something is to be given, accepts contribu- 
 tions with appreciation, urges to effort giving reasons why she does so, 
 calls for reports, and sees to it that her assembly, be it large or small, 
 has a good time, as she herself invariably has. She is a skillful pre- 
 siding officer, with great understanding and grasp of affairs. Every 
 time now for years, under her leadership we have "gone over" big with 
 whatever project in hand, except once. Of that exception something 
 will be set forth presently, the surprising and losing race she made in 
 the Republican direct primaries in 1926. Yes, Bertha Baur, who is 
 accustomed to success. 
 
 Again looking back for a moment, c'est-a-dire from a woman's view- 
 point, it appears so fitting that Mr. Hanna's decisive action in estab- 
 lishing a precedent, the result of which if it did not of itself fix recogni- 
 tion of woman's work, certainly endorsed it as worthy of attention, 
 possibly cultivation. For now it has come to pass, owing to each state 
 sharing equally between men and women the membership in party 
 
Politics Is Politics 93 
 
 national committees, that women's work is not only desirable, but is 
 needful, and yet we have almost no women politicians. Be tranquil: 
 Women's affairs are changing most of the world's enterprise. 
 
 Nevertheless, Republican women should always remember with 
 appreciation the woman's plank in the platform adopted by the great 
 national convention in St. Louis, for since that history-making cam- 
 paign, illuminating in a thousand matters as it was, really epochal in 
 the history of women's work, they have not only been in the work at 
 national headquarters, but all their campaign working needs have been 
 supplied by the committee. To be sure for some time past the women 
 have invariably raised enough money to cover their working needs. 
 
 During the Coolidge-Dawes campaign, Mrs. Alvin T. Hert, Repub- 
 lican national committeewoman from Kentucky, vice-chairman of the 
 Republican National committee, a very capable woman whose politi- 
 cal training was acquired under and by working consistently with an 
 astute and progressive politician-husband, was in Chicago much of the 
 time as head of women's work, while Mrs. Baur was chairman of the 
 Woman's Finance committee. 
 
 Few women can compare with her in the ability to raise money for 
 enterprises in which she believes or feels any responsibility. In com- 
 mon parlance she is a born money-getter. She is one of the best sales- 
 women in the nation, as well as a responsible republican; has long 
 and ungrudgingly served her party, directing many of its enterprises 
 with signal ability; is always found at the helm until the books are 
 closed and the balance struck. This record is a matter of history in 
 Chicago. As a gesture in recognition of that ability, Mrs. Baur was 
 made chairman of the committee of 100 women, who, organized under 
 her guidance, raised $1,000,000 for the guarantee fund of the Chicago 
 Civic Opera. In this connection it is worth knowing that the man who 
 looms at the head of that gigantic, decorative and cultural Chicago 
 institution, is one who towers equally over vaster enterprises, most of 
 them endowing Chicagoland, but there are several of them strung out 
 from Maine to California. Be it known too, that when this man, a 
 grandee of magnates, moves for new stations, loans for his utilities, 
 for extensions of plants, right-of-way or water power, he calls out for 
 millions and millions, and he always gets what he asks for. During 
 the world war Mrs. Baur sold Liberty bonds for the government, and 
 Mr. Insull was chairman for our home defense for the State of Illinois. 
 Illuminating statement this one, isn't it? 
 
 Some call this particular quality of hers "genius" and name her a 
 general; some turn on steam and declare she has ambition for high 
 
94 Our Own Lady 
 
 political office of power, and so on. Great perspicacity theirs. She 
 has been like that for years. But if she has ambition well and good. 
 Why not? But for the sake of pride and justice let it be seen to that 
 the place is one big enough for her genius. Again, why not? She is 
 one of the most capable women in the State of Illinois, is deserving 
 of high honors, and should be honored suitably. 
 
 It is apropos to end this chapter with a little story that will illus- 
 trate fixity of purpose and dogged persistence as they are revealed 
 among Mrs. Baur's character traits: In 1924 Mr. Bernard A. Eckhart 
 telegraphed from the National Republican committee headquarters 
 in Chicago, to Mrs. Baur somewhere in the East at the time, to return 
 home at once to help in the raising of money for the presidential cam- 
 paign then gaining head. He stated that the committee treasurer had 
 got a late start, and must have help S O S. A good Republican, a good 
 soldier, an obliging woman, she returned first train, and by Mr. Eck- 
 hart was assigned a large space, and given carte blanche to arrange 
 for, and to run her Woman's Finance committee as she chose to run 
 it. Whereupon she re-arranged the furniture in the big room, removing 
 all rocking chairs and sofas, substituting desks and telephones, a desk 
 and telephone for each vice-president. The big room was good to look 
 upon to one in the business world. 
 
 Mrs. Hert came down the following Sunday and ordered the rockers 
 replaced. Mrs. Baur came early Monday morning and ordered them 
 all removed, telling Mrs. Hert that she was organizing the office for 
 business. To this Mrs. Hert smilingly replied, "I would like you to 
 know that I am at the head of a $12,000,000 concern." Whereupon 
 Mrs. Baur calmly replied, "Then you are twice as big as I am. I'm 
 only vice-president of a $6,000,000 company." 
 
 A busy telephone campaign was carried on; no rockers or sofas 
 remained, and pleasurable statement, the sum of $85,000 was realized 
 in five weeks by the use of those substituted telephones. 
 
 This little tale proves how well known was her ability. In 1920, 
 she was vice-president of the Republican National Finance committee, 
 and chairman of the Woman's committee; in six weeks they raised 
 $55,000 for their National committee. 
 
 The work of 1924, the Coolidge-Dawes campaign, was carried on 
 with great zest and earnestness, and much enjoyment was experienced 
 by the Chicago workers, many of them at the forefront during the 
 whole canvass, working early and late, making every stroke count, 
 using with efficiency every means at hand. Everybody in Chicago- 
 land wanted a Chicago man in the vice-presidency quite naturally, and 
 
Politics Is Politics 95 
 
 a fine lot of 'em loyally and just as fervently wanted that same citizen 
 in the presidency. 
 
 Shortly before election day, when about all the work that could be 
 done for the ticket by the woman's department, was finished, or nearly 
 so, Mrs. Baur gave a Sunday luncheon in honor of Mrs. Hert. It was 
 the largest party she ever had presided over in her home, and was 
 given in her present one on Astor street, purchased for her own 
 loved fireside in 1922. It was a representative gathering of men and 
 women from many departments of the country's life, national, state 
 and city, in respect to the two notable women. 
 
 Mrs. Hert resigned her high office as vice-chairman of the National 
 committee, in September, 1929, but continues as national committee- 
 woman from her state. 
 
 Mrs. Baur and the gracious Kentuckian, a good-looking and very 
 capable woman, with a warmth of charm unmistakably "southern," 
 received the homage of judges, M. C.'s, foreign officials, representa- 
 tives of the administration from Washington, journalists of note, 
 women of wealth and fashion, and just "folks;" also there were pres- 
 ent artists, writers, travellers. Their appearance was very pleasing, 
 being that of distinguished and responsible American women both alike 
 imbued with friendly human interest. 
 
 At the hour of departure of the convives, there arrived groups of 
 younger ladies and gentlemen of the city's polite world, the majority 
 of them likely "first voters," and by the tea hour's end there had 
 passed into the record an unusual, history-making republican festival. 
 
 As one of the presidential electors for Illinois whose names headed 
 the state ticket, Mrs. Baur went to Springfield in January, 1925, to 
 cast the state's vote for Calvin Coolidge for President, and Charles 
 Gates Dawes for Vice-President. Another paragraph for History's big 
 scroll. 
 
 When in Europe Mrs. Baur entertains in home-like fashion with 
 receptions and teas for her friends and acquaintances, and Americans 
 visiting abroad. Happy occasions these, as there gather in her parlors 
 travellers from various countries, for she is a cosmopolite since some 
 years. Her dinners, and surely no one more enjoys the witchery of 
 the social autocracy of dinner-giving than Mrs. Baur, are notable for 
 the eminence of so many of her guests, which applies to her Chicago 
 life also. 
 
 During the season of 1925, following after the big affair given the 
 previous autumn in honor of Mrs. Hert, the cables brought particu- 
 lars of a reception and tea given by Mrs. Baur and Mrs. J. Hamilton 
 Lewis, another Chicago lady of many accomplishments, whose social 
 
96 Our Own Lady 
 
 graces are not the least of her endowments. It was held in one of 
 London's great West End hotels, and among names of men and women 
 of interest in attendance appeared that of General Pershing, as paying 
 respect to his noted compatriots. Later on will appear herein mention 
 that Mrs. Lewis was a guest at the tea given by the subject of this 
 sketch, for Queen Marie of Roumania, while in Chicago during her 
 tour of the United States. 
 
 One dark, rather cold evening about six o'clock, Bertha Baur darted 
 into the office and to the desk of this writer. Six or eight girls were 
 working overtime. It was a gloomy, great vault-like room nearly half 
 a block long. Dirty walls, grimy windows, their shades lopping every 
 which way from the rollers, likely eighteen feet from the floor; dis- 
 abled typewriters all about, in some cases two of them on a desk; 
 broken chairs piled along one end; unscrubbed floors; black, old oil- 
 cloth machine covers lying everywhere; dim lights owing to unwashed 
 lamps; books, great canvas-covered, expensive tomes all over the place, 
 looking not unlike gray, fallen ancient tombstones in an abandoned 
 churchyard. Oh, it was an ugly, gloomy, uncared-for place, over the 
 door of which one might expect to read Dante's inscription at the 
 entrance to hades. Herein women and girls worked in order to live, 
 and for the privilege many of them must pay and did pay money from 
 their oftentimes small earnings to office-holders and politicians. 
 
 The time was soon after her return from one of her fine European 
 outings, our first meeting after the homecoming, and a really pleas- 
 urable reunion, even though every minute quick eyes were taking in 
 the drab situation, and we all were feeling the gloom, the miserable 
 atmosphere of the dismal place. Soon, however, all were having a 
 merry few minutes' visit regardless of chill, murk and lack of comfort. 
 Later one of the party told me that the visitor was heard to say in an 
 aside, "To think of you girls having to work in such a place." Alas! 
 
 Admiring her healthy appearance, handsome garments in latest 
 vogue, all talking at the same time, and asking about her recent 
 enjoyable experiences in London, some one piped in a reminder that 
 it was the evening of the grand party in the home of the eminent 
 Mr. Insull, a native of London. She was asked if she knew that Mr. 
 and Mrs. Insull were giving a house-warming in dedication of their 
 new Hawthorne Farms home, that evening? The answer was that she 
 would be there, and she was away for an evening of pleasure in 
 brighter surroundings. 
 
 The contrast: All of Chicago's great world was in that home on 
 that occasion. It is a splendid pile, of Italian architecture in style, 
 with of course some features modified to meet American requirements 
 
Politics Is Politics 97 
 
 and English taste and stands in such a lovely domain. There are fine 
 gardens, enticing vistas, fountains; there is a lake framed in shrub- 
 bery a veritable lac d'amour, whereon graceful swans trail in their 
 stately visits among tiny islands. The manor, consisting of several 
 thousand acres of splendidly managed farms, all highly productive, 
 enhances the ideal vicinity just south of Libertyville, near beautiful 
 Mundelein by St. Mary's Lake, a noble region of which the whole 
 state rightfully can be proud. 
 
 The party was rich in every particular, and reflected the character, 
 wide travel and culture of Mr. and Mrs. Insull. Nothing more could 
 be named or desired that would add to the beauty, even grandeur, or 
 enhance the pleasure, happiness, of those honoring the occasion by 
 their presence, was the verdict of all. The occasion was utterly 
 satisfying. 
 
 While talking it all over with Mrs. Baur not long after, she was 
 asked what feature of the great fete most impressed her, what would 
 be the lasting memory of it all to her? Instantly she answered: "Oh, 
 Mrs. Insull, in her radiance, and how pretty she was at the head of 
 the great stairway as she came down to receive us there in her grand 
 new home. She was beautiful, the surroundings perfect." 
 
 Such has been Bertha Baur's varied course, her wondrous way. It is 
 of no use to ask how it is that she encounters such contrasts. That 
 she does so and in every circumstance instantly grasps the salient 
 feature, is undeniable. Her mind is lightning-like, observing to the 
 degree that the faculty has come to afford her, now since some time, 
 peculiar enjoyment. It is a rare quality, an enviable one, and in this 
 case memory reinforces the value of the seeing mind. 
 
 In 1927 (advancing a little in our dates), the cables again were of 
 interest, this time with reports on the Danish fetes, which took place 
 on Independence day in Copenhagen. There were thousands of Ameri- 
 cans, with their Danish relatives, gathered in American National park. 
 Mrs. Baur representing Chicago, and Mr. Christ Christensen of 
 Racine, representing Wisconsin, jointly in a ceremony, presented 
 engravings of historic and valuable associations as well as of much 
 beauty and intrinsic worth, as gift offerings from Danes residing in 
 the United States. During this memorable festival, Dr. Max Henius, 
 then Denmark's consul in Chicago, acted as host. Imagine! Rather 
 far a-field in her pleasurable activities, this popular lady? 
 
 It would seem that a line made up of Mrs. Baur's friends and 
 acquaintances, from all walks, from everywhere, many climes, would 
 reach from her home door in Chicago to the Pacific Ocean. 
 
Bertha Would Go To Congress 
 
 XII 
 
 Learn, never account the pang; dare, never forget the throe. 
 
 — Robert Browning.' 
 
 Trailing in the wake of her party's success in the previous year, 
 some influential, scouting, political friends and admirers, having regard 
 for the drift of her work and affiliations, came to feel in their bones 
 that Mrs. Baur would make a strong candidate for nomination in 
 the 1926 direct primaries, as a representative in Congress from the 
 Ninth Illinois district. Following on all this talk and deliberation, 
 a little late in 1925 work to that end was set agoing, but on a rather 
 modest scale, to be truthful a scale that implied no over-confidence. 
 
 The lady's record as a successful business woman, her patriotism, 
 wide and various acquaintance, civic loyalty which reads devotion to 
 her city, all these demonstrated as well in national, as in local welfare, 
 contributed in picturing her a winning candidate. Also all knew well 
 that there was no ulterior motive in her aspiring to the high elective 
 office, and all knew perfectly that the duties of the office would receive 
 at her hands conscientious performance; that every interest thereunto 
 appertaining, would be carefully guarded. She was the first woman 
 to stand for that office from the district. 
 
 The Honorable Fred A. Britten then was in the office and has con- 
 tinued therein, Mrs. Baur losing the nomination by 2,600 votes. So it 
 is that she knows 
 
 'The rapture of pursuing 
 
 Is the prize the vanquished gain. 
 
 The campaign attracted wide attention and considerable wonder. 
 It was looked upon by some, and really not unknowing ones, as an 
 unusual political skirmish, merely a forerunner of something to be 
 expected, no one at all could surmise or decide what that might be. 
 It seemed not to be looked upon by anyone as really very serious. 
 Really and simply it was merely a skirmish. The truth is the gentle- 
 man knew his politics, the scientific game; the lady had popularity 
 plus, attracted interest and drew crowds, but personal popularity is 
 
 98 
 
Bertha Would Go to Congress 99 
 
 ephemeral, has no mechanism. Politics is a game of parts, the science 
 of government that must needs have an engineer. The campaign was 
 rather brisk, at times a little breezy in some few places of debate and 
 in speech ; in a few features a bit picturesque, and not deftly managed, 
 not from the very first moment. It lacked an engineer. However it 
 may have been conducted, it appeared to others of her real friends and 
 well wishers, not at all a propitious moment for her entry; that pio- 
 neering by women in their new liberty would better be for less exalted 
 posts; not that the women were unequal, but men voters were yet 
 and would be for some time, jealous of their "rights;" with a lot of 
 them the war still rankled; she was a rich woman and women were 
 only novices, not yet grown up in politics. Then too, the drys flew at 
 her wailing, "Oh, no, no, not a wet. Mrs. Baur is a wet and has 
 nationalistic tendencies." Neither claim was true. They never both- 
 ered to learn about these. She was then and now is, for the modifica- 
 tion of the Volstead act, in a company numbering millions. And if 
 ever a woman demonstrated her loyalty and patriotism, love for her 
 country's flag, devotion to its ideals, that one was Bertha Duppler 
 Baur. She was born in Wisconsin, partly raised there and in Indiana, 
 and has been a Chicagoan of the deepest dye, for thirty-five full and 
 driving years. 
 
 The drys' enactment appeared to have struck the world as proving 
 them the bulwark of the nation. No one dare run counter to their 
 wishes, not even if that one were a charter member of the D. A. R. 
 and had besides a bushel-basket full of testimonials that she did not 
 drink, smoke or pull the cat's tail, nor serve drink on her table at 
 home or elsewhere. Success sometimes is a virago, sometimes a despot, 
 but always holier than thou. 
 
 A commentary to end with our unsuccessful campaign is, that 
 women who were so situated as to be able to do efficient, telling work 
 for a woman candidate, especially for one known to them all, one who 
 had been tried, weighed, tested, were found to be "too busy" or "not 
 interested." Even now it is difficult to get women to work hard in 
 politics, though they enjoy the fray once in the whirl. But never, 
 never in this world will this up and down, hap-hazard, go as you please 
 method build political machinery just as necessary for political women 
 as for men, or get women anywhere in the political world. It means 
 we have no political women, or almost none. 
 
 "Let us pray for the woman who has the vote but doesn't use it. 
 There is no defense for a non-voter, man or woman, whose political 
 creed is democracy." 
 
100 Our Own Lady 
 
 Then let us remember that among the qualities of the ideal woman 
 none is so universally acknowledged as that of unswerving fidelity to 
 duty, loved ones, to friend or country. It appeared that the ideal 
 women were not in the majority in the Ninth Congressional District 
 of Illinois at the moment when slight reciprocal return might have 
 been made in acknowledgment for the help they all had received from 
 Mrs. Baur. They did not appear to think or seem to realize that any 
 part might be theirs to do or see to having done. They did not keep 
 responsible, or think of reciprocity. And those glorious days of 1917 
 and 1918 when they stood in solid ranks to follow on at her lead, or 
 at her sign that work must be performed, that workers were needed. 
 We have all been helped by her work for equality, by the excellence 
 and record of her service. But only a few appeared to realize this 
 fact or had anything to give at that time, only a few were interested, 
 but that few utterly splendid. 
 
 Well, ladies, we will get you yet, see if we don't. 
 
 The "Organization" of Honorable Britten was too formidable. Its 
 every part clicked "perfect." And — pardon the smile if it is a sardonic 
 one — Representative Britten is not a dry. 
 
 On the "dry" question Mrs. Baur might have replied "Good Night, 
 Ladies," and curtsied off the scene. She chose to throw her lance in 
 the joust, and did so fearlessly. It was not with chivalry she met; 
 knighthood has not conspicuously flowered since the close of the Nine- 
 teenth century. And politics is not a pretty game when one gets to 
 the point of brass tacks, the profits, or rewards, no matter who the 
 contestants in a given contest. It just was the lady or the gentleman? 
 A woman representative in Congress was not wanted, not yet. 
 
 Honorable Britten's success did not pourtant, prevent Bertha from 
 having a lot of fun; that is her way, or from learning the where- 
 abouts of some of her friends. Politics is like that. Eh! 
 
 So it was that Bertha Baur, accustomed to success, met her first 
 defeat. She came forth smiling, better than ever equipped to face 
 about, to fight another day, and to help the world of better minds. 
 She is not old, is a magnificent fighter and every day is becoming a 
 more sagacious politician. More power to her. Abraham Lincoln was 
 defeated for Congress by an Illinois constituency, or rather by his 
 party's mismanagement and lack of political foresight. Just so much 
 experience for the immortal one and for Mrs. Baur. It is all one can 
 get out of this life, just experience. It is all we are here for it seems. 
 If we are in this world for anything else we will be glad to be told 
 what it is. That old thesis lies before us and we re-read that human 
 
Bertha Would Go to Congress 101 
 
 behavior flows from the three main sources, desire, emotion and 
 knowledge, personal possessions these, waited upon by experience. 
 
 A friend asked a nice old bachelor to please vote for Mrs. Baur. 
 He would like to oblige, but when he went to Washington it was to 
 talk things over with a man, who could get them done! Dear old 
 darling! No narrow-minded men, no brilliant women known to him. 
 "Women do not know the needs," he felt, adding that he knew the 
 lady well, and had "watched her career for some years." A fickle, 
 flowery old customer. He was asked "You do not trust her? You do 
 not know her well; she knows a million things. Do, please just trust 
 her, that's a good fellow, else I'll write you down 'as Irish as Cork.' " 
 
 In an injured manner, "Yes, I am Irish, but why, just now, against 
 me for that? I didn't choose my place of nativity." 
 
 "Of course you can't be blamed for that. Always an Irishman 
 must have an excuse. If asked to do this or that, do please, to help an 
 enterprise, for response it is. 'Ah! Well!' then he runs along. No sir, 
 he is not to be bossed." 
 
 Nice, pugnacious old bachelor flared back un-Irish like: 
 
 "Let me make it clear to you. Your choice for candidate can't win 
 in this primary because of Congressman Britten's organization. I am 
 in on that proposition. Only this morning we bought and paid the 
 cash for a several thousand edition of one foreign language newspaper, 
 and we plan to do the same tomorrow as to another. Oh we know our 
 mutton you see. Printer's ink you see. Besides, there's the Great 
 Lakes training station and the Naval hospital which his efforts got 
 for us. Gratitude isn't dead. Is that more 'American,' please?" 
 
 It was a bit illuminating, so it must have been "American." 
 
 Besides her disappointment, the cost to the friend was a cup or two 
 of perfect tea, toasted muffins and things, which the "riled" caller, 
 now recovered, enjoyed and so declared. Oh, well. 
 
 "Be not impatient in delay, 
 But wait as one who understands; 
 When spirit rises and commands, 
 The gods are ready to obey." 
 
 Regardless of politics, Volsteadism and women who do not vote, 
 now that they have that right, the laws will be enforced, the present 
 ones or others. Better that we not lean too heavily on the law. Let 
 us feel individually responsible, for the most efficient power is neither 
 physical nor mental, but moral, meaning that all lies with the indi- 
 
102 Our Own Lady 
 
 vidual conscience. Not more laws are needed but more consciousness 
 is the need. Let us obey the laws we have. (See Proverbs 29-18.) If 
 they are not acceptable let us repeal them, make new ones and abide 
 by them. It is silly not to do this, for then we shall become law- 
 observance minded; otherwise our government by the people will 
 perish, then chaos for us. 
 
 We have never known defeat in any of our struggles, never, and we 
 have had struggles aplenty; our colors never run; our men have never 
 surrendered but to our own men; we love our government; love our 
 vast, infinitely beautiful land, and our flag, glorious old banner, 
 
 "The same our grandsires lifted up, 
 The same our fathers bore." 
 
 Our system of government affords inspiration, its keystone, the 
 presidency which is bestowed by adult suffrage; thus it is that the 
 currents of destiny flow through the hearts of the people, and so far 
 in our history these comprise the majority on the side of right action. 
 President McKinley declared: There are responsibilities born of duty, 
 that can never be repudiated. Duty unperformed is dishonor, dishonor 
 brings shame, which is far heavier for a nation to carry than any 
 burden which honor can impose. 
 
 Formerly our slogan was: Our people are law-respecting and law- 
 abiding. Let us again live this claim. It is one in accord with the 
 genius of our institutions, all created by the people. And let us so 
 admonish constantly. Bertha Baur stands for law and order and 
 admonishes all the time and everywhere, "Obey the law." Immunity 
 should not be allowed to any one, individual or corporation. Laws 
 are man made and therefore to be enforced, otherwise why make them? 
 The constitution imposes upon the President the duty of its own 
 execution and that of the statutes enacted in accordance with its pro- 
 visions. All know this, and all know what the flag symbolizes. 
 
 There comes to mind the act of a young soldier in the Civil War. 
 The brave lad while on the battle line and away ahead with the color 
 guard, bearing his flag out in front of the lines, the enemy still in 
 front of him, heard the general call out, "Bring those colors back to 
 the line," when quicker than a shot, the young soldier answered back, 
 "Bring the line up to the colors." 
 
 The people of the United States can do this. There is the same 
 patriotism in our hearts today, in all our hearts, as fired that young 
 man with a voice to command, that soldier heart on fire with love for 
 his flag, his country. 
 
 We can bring up the line. Yes we can do this. 
 
Bertha Would Go to Congress 103 
 
 For ending this verbose chapter on practical politics and a few 
 things which if done might help us to be good, is to relate an episode 
 that took place in El Paso, that Texas border town with troubles of 
 its own, very aggravating ones. 
 
 Away there in our tremendous Southwest, like unto the world- 
 famed Florence, it lies on the sides of mountains, in sunshine and 
 balmy air, overlooking a wondrous river. The likeness ends there, for 
 the Rio Grande region lacks hundreds and hundreds of years in stir- 
 ring history, romance, art and cultivation in comparison with that of 
 the slow-rolling Arno. In its pass, its waters and sandbars it rims a 
 boundary of a friendly republic, comprising a mixed and romantic 
 people. Pity to relate many of our "tourists," shabby word, traverse 
 the five or six miles and cross the international bridge into the small 
 Ciudad de Jaurez. It is there they imbibe over bars, in cafes and 
 restaurants, show off, become boozy, swagger and carry on unbecom- 
 ingly. It is such a silly, ridiculous little jaunt. Some of the tourists 
 are daring, many of them unamiable, some of them serious trouble- 
 makers, in presence of a foreign people, and to the chagrin of their 
 better mannered compatriots. The Mexicans are quiet towards the 
 gringos, show wonder about some things, meanwhile taking their good 
 United States money for liquors, everything made of tobacco, and for 
 other purchases and small services. 
 
 Being interested in the unlovely state of intercourse and exchange, 
 and after two or three visits over the bridge to learn about the situa- 
 tion at first hand, this writer attended a W. C. T. U. meeting in El 
 Paso. Discovery of a stranger within the gates was soon made by an 
 alert member, and after some pleasant words she announced the pres- 
 ence of a visitor from Chicago. This brought cheers, followed by an 
 invitation from the chair to the visitor to come forth and make herself 
 known, and to feel very welcome. A few words by way of introduc- 
 tion, mention of the city, borderlands, fine people met in churches, 
 clubs, chapters and the official world while visiting through the vast 
 state, comprised the few sentences. Picture the visitor's surprise on 
 being requested to again take the floor and "Tell the meeting about 
 Mrs. Bertha Baur, a wet," then in the midst of her primaries battle 
 in distant Chicago. "Wideawakes" those interesting Texas ladies, and 
 very splendid. The interesting moment opened a crowded hour. 
 
 They were told briefly about the lady, her beliefs, character, success, 
 industry and energy; that if she won the seat in Congress, she would 
 keep her feet on the ground; if defeated she would not be cast down; 
 that Mrs. Baur was not a wet, but did not want light wines and beer 
 outlawed; that she knew of the dissatisfaction with the law among 
 
104 Our Own Lady 
 
 honest people and held the lack of enforcement owed to the lack of 
 public opinion in demanding enforcement. The peoples' representa- 
 tives had made the law, and if it was not to be enforced the people 
 must be held for the fact. Came reporters, the teaing ceremony during 
 which pleasing diversion more was brought out about the lady then 
 entertaining Chicago. It pays to be up and doing. 
 
 After those busy months in the arena of politics, Mrs. Baur, with 
 her daughter, made another trip to Europe, a change she much needed, 
 not to overcome the stress of defeat, but for another atmosphere, as 
 required by most driving workers. For defeats are steps by which we 
 climb with purer aims to nobler ends. 
 
 The daughter's summers for a few years past had been spent in 
 travel, and the same plan has been continued to this time, as part of 
 her educational routine. A rich provision. 
 
 It transpired that Mrs. Baur's most interesting season of work and 
 achievement, was destined for her after her return from this, her fifth 
 visit to Europe, that of 1926, a rather short one. 
 
A Wondrous Comparison 
 
 XIII 
 
 For all may have, 
 If they choose a glorious life. 
 — Herbert. 
 
 At the moment of starting this small work, the plan for it was to 
 systematically compare the career of the late Frances E. Willard and 
 Bertha E. Baur, not a big book, merely a sketchy comparison for a 
 small volume. Even that proved too great for the means at hand. 
 To those who have had associations with both of them, in particular 
 those versatile enough to catch the resemblance and subtile unlikeness, 
 there would have been surprise, interest and pleasure. 
 
 There are of course some with a smile for this idea of comparison, 
 likely having in mind a butterfly and a devotee; some who would 
 enjoy laughing it out of countenance; braver ones will ask, "Why not 
 compare Mrs. Baur with the many-sided Franklin, who while Post- 
 master General for the colonies founded our postal system? Why not 
 both ladies in comparison with that other doer of everything, when the 
 world was younger, Benvenuto Cellini?" 
 
 Wait a little and let us see. 
 
 The writer has been unequal to the exclusion of everything redundant 
 and the including of anything significant. No need has seemed to call 
 for doing either. It is impoliteness to write without compliment for 
 one so nearly present. This in face of the claim that it is only the 
 duty and business of the biographer to state the facts of the case as 
 understood. I hold it a pleasurable duty with regard to encomiums 
 and facts as comprehended, having the utmost regard for the subject, 
 to retain entire freedom in spirit — truth. Herein are no satirical darts 
 at the foibles of "high society," and no attempt at derision of anybody 
 or anything. There may be such a thing as writing a book and not 
 knowing how. There are such facts as love for truth, detestation for 
 acrimony. 
 
 Again the comparison: A master's words here apply to the story 
 of an interesting career still shaping for greater things: "Je n'impose 
 rien; je ne propose rein, J'expose." 
 
 105 
 
106 Our Own Lady 
 
 Mrs. Baur's parents were not rich. She had no years of study, travel 
 or enjoyable life abroad, and did not early have a rich husband to 
 secure for her high position and influential place, taking for granted 
 one such had been so minded. There was not in her family or circle at 
 the parting of the ways for her, a successful politician or towering 
 business-world connection who could give her a post of leadership and 
 authority. She did not take up writing, nor attempt reform or lec- 
 turing. She had no means for betterments, or for settlements, so-called. 
 In her situation and in her successful grappling with it, she was like 
 none other. Miss Willard was always a student, her parents were 
 students and diligent in the application of learning. From her begin- 
 ning Mrs. Baur has been a student, first taking up the common 
 branches that lead to knowledge about how to live; following with 
 business-world details, commerce, finance, law, domestic arts and 
 science; the arts, singing, public speaking and languages; science of 
 government and the art of politics, with wide travel and always the 
 people. She is also a lawyer. To secure this title she proved her 
 equality in the opportunities for education, and the absence of legal 
 barriers, by studying at night (as we know) until her mastery of the 
 principles of jurisprudence secured for her admission to the bar. She 
 graduated from the Kent College of Law, Chicago, in June, 1908. 
 
 A fine summary, and in every branch she has made good. Of course 
 she declares her education is not finished, as her idea of education is 
 that it continues through life, that only the life of growth and develop- 
 ment can satisfy, qualify one. Almost identical terms often expressed 
 by the older woman. Always present with them both was and is the 
 hope to do better farther on, believing the more things we do success- 
 fully the greater we are in spirit, the greater the record. 
 
 In the matter of their extensive travels, association with the great, 
 the famous, royalties, nobles, the titled, the good in all ranks, scholars 
 and statesmen and in their love for their kind, the parallel is striking. 
 Comparisons made at any stage in their respective careers after 
 arriving at maturity, in any association, barring only the marital, is 
 illuminating. Both found the occasion and means for highest develop- 
 ment and wider outlook, in great organizations. One helped in the 
 building up of the mighty national and world organism to which she 
 gave her all, and to which she owed her best work and all of her 
 fame. The other entered into the workings of a mighty political party 
 organization that from that moment she has made her own. All her 
 progress, all her organizing ability have had constant furtherance from 
 
A Wondrous Comparison 107 
 
 that source, and she still walks in its light, using her membership 
 always for the promotion of the ideals of her organization, progressing 
 almost on parallel lines with the earlier worker. 
 
 Both endowed with enthusiasm, the very flywheel in the life of 
 gifted spirits. They were equals in energy and industry. Both amiable 
 and of happy dispositions witty and humorous. Both students of 
 human nature, both poetical and lovers of the beautiful, of music and 
 song and the home. 
 
 Few other women have known the art of politics so thoroughly. 
 The one undeviatingly devoted to her principle and always "Politic 
 with my friend, smoothe with mine enemy." The other equally saga- 
 cious in devising and promoting her principles as a politician, rests in 
 mind and effort on majority rule. Each in her way doing great good 
 in efforts to educate the public in the tenets of her high ideals. Both 
 endowed with faith, the dynamic force in the human mind. Both 
 leaders of women and esteemed by women, each with enormous per- 
 sonal following among women who comprehend personality. 
 
 In countenance there was resemblance as there was similarity in 
 personal appearance; in naturalness and serenity in all manner of con- 
 tacts. Both splendid executives, knowing almost perfectly how to get 
 things done, and unrivalled presiding officials. Miss Willard a great 
 scholar, was an orator, finished, without an equal. Mrs. Baur with 
 the practical education so valued in her time, is a speaker, and withal 
 the more practical of the duet. Her business-world experience making 
 her so. 
 
 Miss Willard was a prolific writer, and herself approachable by 
 every style of writer. She loved the odor of printing ink almost beyond 
 any other of her idolatries. The columns devoted to her, her work 
 and her workers by newspapers were beyond counting, almost beyond 
 any sense of realization. Just to get it in the papers was a burning 
 desire with her, and to tell it to the papers, tell it well enough and 
 tell it often enough, she knew meant success. Both of these women 
 believed utterly in publicity from the morning of their careers. 
 
 Mrs. Baur does not write much, but she writes well. Her A B C's 
 for Women in Politics ran into the hundreds of thousands. All that 
 she writes is on practical lines and is good. She has successfully 
 edited several fine things. A few times she has allowed some of her 
 poems to be printed, an example or two appearing in this sketch. As 
 for the news columns about her and her work, I am not an abacist. 
 
 But why compare, what use for the comparison? 
 
 Because knowledge consists in a sense of value. Everything is com- 
 
108 Our Own Lady 
 
 parative; that is the only way that enables us to realize the value of 
 anything in which we are interested. The value is arrived at by com- 
 paring a thing or person with something else or somebody else. 
 
 The Willards have been in County Kent, England, for many gen- 
 erations. Early in England's history, Kent had a Queen Bertha. She 
 was a Christian princess, child of a famous Frankish King. She mar- 
 ried Ethelbert, the fourth Saxon King of Kent. They opened the 
 way for the restoration of the Christian faith which had long before 
 perished with the Britons, and it was they who gave the land on 
 which the Cathedral of Canterbury stands. So much for the early 
 association of the two names. 
 
 Mrs. Baur (Bertha Elizabeth Duppler) was born in Wisconsin, and 
 in that state, on the prize farm in Rock County, near Janesville, was 
 Frances Elizabeth Willard's home from her seventh to her nineteenth 
 year (she was born near Churchville, N. Y.), and she often recalled 
 during her glorious wanderings up and down the world, those happy, 
 happy years, in the lines: 
 
 "Green the land is where our daily 
 Steps in jocund childhood played, 
 Dimpled close with hill and valley, 
 Dappled very close with shade; 
 Summer-snow of apple blossoms running up from glade to glade." 
 
 At this point in their history comes a thought applicable to them 
 both, a line of hope so often used to give courage and uplift to wearied 
 souls when their various warfares were flaming: 
 
 "More kingdoms wait thy diadem than are known to thee by name." 
 
 A beautiful truth. No other two women can be named, who almost 
 single-handed worked out life's problems for themselves; solved them 
 in their own way and in their own time, each meeting success beyond 
 her greatest dreams. Both experienced almost every phase of dis- 
 couragement, deprivation, domestic afflictions and trials, if not at their 
 beginnings in their respective careers, then trailing along through the 
 years. 
 
 Brilliant social connections distinguished them both, each career 
 marked by outstanding friendships and helpful associations among the 
 illustrious and notable combined. These two facts comprise a unique 
 instance in the social history of our times, although in this feature, 
 and it is a particular one, Mrs. Baur appears the one more alone as to 
 associations and decisions. The elder one more nearly blended her life 
 with her organization, the countless able and distinguished women 
 
A Wondrous Comparison 109 
 
 numbered therein taking her and her yokefellow, Miss Anna Adams 
 Gordon, more closely to them, their hearts and their homes, both in 
 England and America, than can be found to be the case in the life 
 of any other woman in all history. A pregnant statement. 
 
 Both of our duo were well born, but neither born to position or 
 wealth. One blessed with a remarkable home, devoted parents, a 
 mother who became famous, with a brother and sister of unusual qual- 
 ities, and some fame also; the other more fortunate in her time than 
 in human ties but cherishes every memory, who at the tender age of 
 nine was left motherless. One eventually was provided with every 
 means for education, stimulation and finish, extensive travels, a long 
 season for study abroad. In these blessings she did honor to her for- 
 tune and helpful friend, and became educated, cultured far beyond 
 many others; the other shines from her effort at self education, and 
 radiates her acquisition. Lofty ideals, loyalty, fearlessness and love 
 of country outstanding qualities in them both. 
 
 For some fruitful years nearing her sunset time of life, the earlier 
 leader had as helpmeet, Isabel Caroline (the Lady Henry Somerset), 
 beautiful, talented, daughter of a hundred earls, as the saying is, a 
 scholar, linguist, proud, rich, a traveller, writer and reformer. She 
 would have made a great queen. To Miss Willard, gifted daughter 
 of a plain Christian citizen of the West, fell the distinction of perform- 
 ing her introduction to public life, and far from an easy one that life 
 ever is. In this gesture the American discovered to her British cousin, 
 an admiring world, one that soon accorded a fine following inspired 
 by the character and endeavors of the young peeress, a remarkable, 
 very unusual woman. 
 
 Their meeting, from which dated a rare and historic comradeship, 
 came from the reading of a small book, which particular little volume 
 reposes in the archives of the Chicago Historical society, as a treasure 
 of the Illinois Woman's Press association. The Lady Henry's custom 
 when in residence at her Eastnor castle home, was to take her Sunday 
 tea with her housekeeper, Mrs. Mary Ellis, another remarkable woman 
 aside from her connections owing to her position at the castle. On a 
 memorable Sunday tea-hour she took from her table the book entitled 
 "Nineteen Beautiful Years," written by Miss Willard around her sister 
 Mary, who had only those few years to spend in this world. Reading 
 to the end, she declared her purpose to meet the author. Ere long, 
 accompanied by her young son she came to this country, the son con- 
 tinuing on to Colorado. Her first visit was to Rest Cottage, Evanston, 
 where she met the famous daughter and her great mother, remaining 
 
110 Our Own Lady 
 
 their guest for a few weeks. Later, on the occasion of her ladyship's 
 first public speech in America, she was introduced to a vast audience 
 by her younger hostess. It was in Central music hall, Randolph and 
 State streets, Chicago, long since obliterated. 
 
 Later will be told the story of Mrs. Baur's meeting with and enter- 
 taining the Roumanian Queen-consort, now Queen-mother, in her home 
 in Chicago, and something of that acquaintance. 
 
 Lady Henry was not of royal blood, but her family is one of Eng- 
 land's greatest. One of them, Lord John Somers, established himself 
 as an orator and constitutional lawyer by a speech so weighty, and 
 which he delivered in a little more than five minutes, that he was raised 
 to the peerage by the title of baron, and ere long was made Lord High 
 Chancellor of England. To worthily maintain his honors and dignity, 
 and in recognition of his work in preserving the constitutional king- 
 ship, his Sovereign, William III, presented him with the manors of 
 Reigate and Howleigh, both in Surrey. 
 
 The first named manor is known to many Americans, the priory 
 thereon being the birthplace of one or two of the children of Countess 
 Curzon (born Mary Leiter, of Chicago). The noble estate, less than 
 an hour by train from London, was leased by the earl from the Lady 
 Henry, and it was from there they departed to become vice-rulers of 
 India. At this moment the Admiral Lord Beatty and Lady Beatty 
 have a long lease on the Priory, their favorite country home. Her 
 ladyship was the only daughter of the late Chicago merchant prince, 
 Mr. Marshall Field. His firm once numbered Lady Curzon's father 
 as a member, and was I believe that high triumvirate Field, Leiter and 
 Palmer, in the city's early history. 
 
 The Lady Henry's family entertained Queen Elizabeth on one of 
 her pilgrimages; the bed on which the Queen slept, and a cup from 
 which she drank, are still preserved in Eastnor Castle. 
 
 Another of her family, Sir George Somers was among the discoverers 
 of the Bermuda Islands, to one of the groups giving his name. A 
 goodly number of history-making characters seem to find mention in 
 this story about a Chicago lady. Well, yes. We are in good company. 
 
 Consequential English connections brought to Mrs. Baur, in her 
 hour of anguish at her child's bedside in London, the King's personal 
 physician, Lord Dawson of Penn. In a long illness in the Lady Henry's 
 Priory home at Reigate, Miss Willard was in the care of the celebrated 
 physician Sir Benjamin Ward Richardson. Both American invalids 
 recovered. 
 
 In their homes: Rest Cottage in Evanston, the classic city at our 
 north door, is known about all over the world, and was almost hal- 
 
A Wondrous Comparison 111 
 
 lowed as a retreat while the revered mother, Madame Willard, was 
 there to greet the noted daughter on her returns from everywhere; 
 that great mother whose motto was "Humani nihil alienum," became 
 known to hundreds of thousands as "Saint Courageous." 
 
 Like holy experience never attended Bertha Baur. 
 
 Such are a few glimpses of similitude and the dissimilar, a wee like- 
 ness of contrasts, known of these two Illinois women. 
 
 Mrs. Baur's home, a plain four-story brick, is not so big or remark- 
 able as a building. Many a woman with less wealth would have a 
 more pretentious one. But it is an endearing, interesting habitation, 
 its situation ideal, is very complete and splendidly conducted. In a 
 select locality, a block south of Lincoln park, near the lake, in beauti- 
 ful surroundings, its four floors spell home. 
 
 On taking possession of her purchase in 1922, Mrs. Baur at once 
 made it her business to go to the Art Institute of Chicago to compare 
 her taste, to seek designs, to study how to apply her art, taste and 
 knowledge, to the end that hers should be a home harmonious. She 
 studied antique furniture, floor coverings and walls, draperies and 
 colors, in her usual systematic manner. The result is an atmosphere 
 and harmony conducing to calm and restfulness. There are always 
 flowers; there is a fountain room much used for small table affairs and 
 teas. Its feature of marble in pleasing design shares company with 
 masses of vines, ferns, attractive hangings enhancing beautiful windows. 
 Books are found all over the house, some beautiful, many twice 
 valuable by reason of dedications, some with authors' inscriptions, 
 testimonials or presentations; many as choice gifts. In the library 
 overlooking a pleasing walled garden, there is a bronze portrait bust 
 of Mr. Baur, by Mrs. Tennessee Mitchell Anderson. It was made 
 from the sculptress' remembrance of Mr. Baur, aided by two small 
 photographs, and is a successful and beautiful presentation and is 
 greatly admired. Mrs. Anderson was acquainted with Mr. Baur before 
 he and Bertha met. Also in the same room, not conspicuously placed, 
 is a large, autographed and framed photograph of her majesty, Queen 
 Marie of Roumania. The dining-room is attractive and sumptuous; 
 within its handsome walls an air of delightful hospitality prevails. 
 
 In the large drawing-room an attractive fireplace with appurten- 
 ances; divans and settees invite sociability; several tables and lamps, 
 a grand piano are other features. Above the fireplace is an unusual 
 portrait in oil, of Mr. Baur, the work of Harriet Blackstone. This 
 portrait is one of two features which immediately attract attention, as 
 on entering the home one's admiration is centered on the other, a 
 polished spiral stairs, unobtrusively leading from the ground level 
 
112 Our Own Lady 
 
 reception foyer to the fourth floor. In one of the halls above, near 
 this stairway, stands a decorative and pleasing piece of furniture 
 worthy of note, in the form of a tall, bronze-framed mirror, one corner 
 embellished with an eagle in fine poise. This historic mirror of about 
 six feet in height, was rescued from the postoffice destroyed by the 
 great Chicago fire, in 1871. 
 
 At the time of moving the postoffice into the present federal build- 
 ing from the old lake front structure, about which we know so much, 
 it was decided to dispose of this mirror with some other pieces no 
 longer required, as the new building was so up to date in all appoint- 
 ments. It was Miss Duppler's fortune to be on hand, as she usually 
 is in important matters, especially if historic interest attaches, when 
 the decision was made. In that moment she bought the mirror from 
 the government for twelve dollars. It is one of her most valued pos- 
 sessions. Before it, as a further matter of history, she did considerable 
 practice when taking lessons in public speaking. She had lessons for 
 a time given by an excellent instructor who had been successful in his 
 prime, and later in need of pupils. 
 
 Thus the two of them were helped, and the mirror was an aid in a 
 double purpose, helping him while she learned all he could teach her 
 in the art of public speaking. If the handsome article could tell its 
 own history what a tale it might unfold, since it attracted marked 
 attention in the great disaster of Chicago's burning. Ere that it must 
 have been treasured for historic reasons, such as attach to antiquities. 
 
 Above all else that attracts attention is the wondrous convenience 
 of the home. The private rooms are well appointed and interesting, 
 as are other ones that comprise the place to which the owner can 
 retire, rest, think and compose herself; wherein prevails the sacred 
 silence that must be a sustaining aid to her activities and endurance. 
 The home might very appropriately be named "Mon Repos." 
 
 There are fine office-like rooms, fitted up with desks, files, tele- 
 phones, etc., wherein her vast correspondence is taken care of, and 
 conferences on business and other matters are held. 
 
 Neither of these homes into which we have been peering, only 
 casually however, intrudes religion, creed, crusades, travel or the 
 museum. Instead they at once ingratiate themselves with the visitor 
 as real homes of everyday living by cultured American women, two 
 endearing retreats of which every woman who has entered them, and 
 those to come who will enter them, can be duly and really proud. 
 
 One evening in late November, 1926, Mrs. Baur gave one of her 
 always delightful small and early dinner parties, preceding her all-eve- 
 ning engagement elsewhere. As the guests were taking their places 
 
A Wondrous Comparison 113 
 
 she announced, "Mrs. Ford is to be married next week, and this is 
 her little dinner," and taking her friend's hand pointed her to her 
 place, while adding a few words of welcome and in compliment to 
 friendship. Mrs. Ford, now Mrs. Otis E. Glidden, and Mrs. Baur have 
 been friends and comrades for many years. After dining all went up 
 to the sitting-room to see the hostess in new furs, in which, the ermine 
 glistening under the lights, she looked the "Lady of the Snows." Then 
 she was off and the guests were given possession of the wondrous box 
 containing in all its historic interest, the dress of Queen Caroline of 
 England, the unhappy wife of King George IV. The perfectly pre- 
 served garment in heavy brocade, silk lined, exquisite needle-work and 
 finish, had just been purchased by Mrs. Baur, for her collection of "old 
 and interesting things," from the Charles F. Gunther collection of very 
 great value, long in the Chicago Historical Society museum. Miss 
 Ruth Chapin, one of the guests, for the pleasure of the party, tried on 
 the dress of the Queen who died in 1821, aged fifty-three. It is a 
 queen's garment and is superb. Its present owner has appeared wear- 
 ing it a few times at costume parties. Another guest who added inter- 
 est to the party was Mrs. Justine Ross, who had arrived from Paris. 
 Always there are interesting plans for the pleasure of friends visiting 
 that home, which seems never to fail in presenting features for its 
 guests. 
 
Bertha's Tea For A Queen 
 
 XIV 
 
 "Nothing can extract the personal element from life, when it is 
 lived or interpreted to its highest." 
 
 Apropos of queens, and while on the subject of homes, their inmates, 
 interests and history, it seems appropriate to here mention the fact 
 that once upon a time there came to our shores the Queen of Roumania, 
 to pay us a visit, as all the world knows. 
 
 This visit of a famous royalty from Europe lacked nothing in inter- 
 est for our whole people, from coast to coast. It came not long after 
 Mrs. Baur's unsuccessful political venture, and preceded the most 
 stirring of all the political campaigns in which she has taken part, that 
 is having in mind the matter of her official direction. 
 
 This presentation of political and social interests, both of which 
 attach to royalty, raises the question as to how they attain in their 
 coupling, any special value worth struggling for in a republic, where 
 nothing is lasting or certain but change? 
 
 Pourtant, a republic's political and social values, taken together or 
 separately, are equally intriguing with any values, as we very well 
 know, entre nous, royal, noble or just plain bourgeois, though as 
 changing as the tides. One is dynastic, a continuity of princes born to 
 honorable place or office which they fill with more or less graceful 
 indifference; the other is individualistic and of course fleeting, it means 
 only a brief moment of place and power for the individual. Place 
 or power cannot be handed on, and so it is owing that precedent is a 
 perpetual study, while in itself it is only a phantom. But the game is 
 a great one, is thrilling under whatever form of government, and as 
 constant as the ocean's roll, whatever may be the place or honors 
 desired. 
 
 To illustrate the fact of her knowing how, utterly knowing what is 
 her due, and something of the political and social game of the moderns, 
 it is well to take notice of the working knowledge of the worldly-wise 
 ones, possessed by the subject of this sketch. It will at least dis- 
 close her keen regard for the real fitness and propriety of several kinds 
 of worldly happenings, shaped by men and women (for nothing at all 
 ever just happens), at what she estimates their value, and their appli- 
 
 i!4 
 
Bertha's Tea for a Queen 115 
 
 cation to affairs in hand or of the moment. This applies to political 
 and social, national or international, royal or republican, as you like. 
 A flash for thought reveals to the average mind the fine sensibilities of 
 the alert lady; discovers her subtle estimate of the proper dues and 
 recognition of position and place acquired by character and achieve- 
 ment in a republic or any place else. Action of accuracy will be dis- 
 cerned, but no show of acrimony. 
 
 To those of just mind, her alertness and prescience will be appre- 
 ciated. The indifferent will not trouble to do more than maybe raise 
 the brow and ask "Why worry?" We are not worrying, not a bit of it. 
 
 This heroine is a knowing person as before remarked; she has splen- 
 did pride; her thrust is rapier-like; the thrust that is the one thing 
 that can match a caustic tongue, action, instant action. She has always 
 been alone except for a brief three years and a little longer. But 
 then, self-preservation is naturally the first law. Bertha Baur deserves 
 to win. Her pride becomes her as does a rich garment . 
 
 The august visitor in whom we are interested, is a daughter of an 
 English royal duke, Alfred of Edinburgh (Queen Victoria's second son), 
 who became sovereign duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (Alfred I), his 
 illustrious father's inheritance, his elder brother Albert Edward, Prince 
 of Wales declining to reign, because as heir apparent to the English 
 throne was his perfectly satisfactory position. He ascended that proud 
 seat as Edward VII. Her mother was a Russian grand duchess; there- 
 fore Marie of Roumania was a granddaughter of Victoria Queen of 
 England and Empress of India, and in the same relation to Alexander 
 II, Emperor of all the Russias. The consort of a reigning King; herself 
 mother of two queens, of Crown Prince Carol who later became King 
 Carol II of Roumania, grandmother of Prince Michael who reigned for 
 a time as King of Roumania. 
 
 Queen-mother Marie of Roumania is almost too highly connected to 
 be realized; she is first cousin to King George V of England (their 
 fathers being brothers); ex-Emperor William II; Victoria Eugenia, 
 Queen of Spain (until the moment of this revise) ; to the late Empress 
 Alexandria and Emperor Nicholas II of Russia; Queen Maude of Nor- 
 way. She is a niece of Arthur Duke of Connaught, the only uncle and 
 tried friend of England's King. She has numerous other kin in the 
 same relationship who are not in such high stations. In her own 
 person she is truly imperial both in Russian and in English. How 
 beautiful the privilege to meet in public or private life, one of such 
 degree, a regal and truly friendly woman. 
 
 As one of the official delegates from Illinois, appointed to greet and 
 welcome the Queen on her arrival in New York, Mrs. Baur performed 
 
116 Our Own Lady 
 
 her assignment with her known ability and eclat. But her name did 
 not appear among those of the reception committee to receive and 
 welcome the very distinguished visitor on her arrival in Chicago. 
 
 Why was not Mrs. Baur named among her home-city's official host- 
 esses? Why not named to serve on her own city's reception commit- 
 tee? Can any one give the answer? "Honi soit, qui mal y pense." 
 
 The real reason may never be known to the world. What does it 
 matter? Who is dying to know? 
 
 Of good blood; a successful business woman (and Queen Marie's 
 visit was largely for purposes of business) ; true a sometime working 
 girl, as are many Russian ladies who are making their own way in 
 various lines, some of them born to the purple. Also there are many 
 Russian nobles as well as numerous of past time very high rank, in 
 the work-a-day world, in the world of honorable business. She is 
 accomplished, travelled beyond most, gracious, a matchless hostess and 
 social leader, a fine speaker, tactful, good looking, a foremost citizen. 
 Everybody in Chicago knows all these facts. Whatever could have hap- 
 pened? There was indeed no time in which to figure it out. And at 
 this date our story is not at all concerned with the answer, it does not 
 require that the question be answered. Some one of the Duppler- 
 Baur attributes, maybe all of them together, quickly was brought into 
 play by a lancet-like mind, and a hand in velvet covering, either to 
 correct someone's blunder, or to make things "right." A quick twirl 
 was given to social tabourets. There was time for only lightning-like 
 thinking and action, as the stay of the queen was limited to three days 
 in Chicago, and supposedly every moment was dated up. 
 
 However it all may have been, who cares? History records as the 
 only unofficial, the only social visit made by Queen Marie of Roumania 
 during her American tour of several weeks, coursing as she did from 
 one end of the country to the other and back, was when, as a private 
 guest, she visited Mrs. Baur in her home on Astor street. History 
 tells of no other instance in which an American woman in private life 
 has entertained in her home a reigning queen. 
 
 Gracious women of the world and widely known ones, those at 
 Mrs. Baur's tea table on that interesting afternoon; these, the hostess 
 and her royal guest, her two ladies in waiting, Madame Lahovary and 
 Madame Probisco, with the distinguished Chicagoan, Mrs. James 
 Hamilton Lewis, writer and traveller, wife of the twice-elected United 
 States Senator from Illinois, comprised a delightful party. Colonel 
 Tryggve A. Siqueland was her majesty's official attendant. 
 
 Of interest to add to the record of a perfect day is the fact — the 
 
Bertha's Tea for a Queen 117 
 
 day of the royal visit for tea was the cook's day out. Another instance 
 for mastery right at hand. Imagine! It proved of no moment at all. 
 Miss Mary Frances Duff, Mrs. Baur's efficient executive secretary (and 
 she is an executive of ability, without any question), obligingly betook 
 herself below stairs and there, if you please, just as efficiently per- 
 formed a part in the household history-making. Miss Duff made the 
 baking powder tea biscuit, topping them with browned cheese, all 
 in perfect form. Those delicious tid bits her majesty greatly enjoyed. 
 
 The refreshing brew, for a dish of which the party had come, was 
 served in the usual fashion of the home, the service performed by 
 the regular butler, and everything passed off most perfectly. 
 
 It was an intriguing and enjoyable hour for all, as added interest 
 followed the refreshments in the fact of the Queen and her party 
 visiting over the home, viewing the kitchen, then to the topmost room, 
 before ending the call. 
 
 A pretty bit of gossip floating about in those days was: In a 
 moment of arranging ways and means as to details of the stay, among 
 others was Mrs. Baur, who heard one of the entourage mention that her 
 majesty hoped to see the interior of some American homes. Mrs. 
 Baur instantly replied, "Oh, do bring her to see mine, and it will be 
 delightful to have her for tea." 
 
 After the tea and with her hostess the Queen called at the home of 
 Colonel R. R. McCormick, just across the garden, and a fine home it 
 is. The Queen desired this privilege, which was quickly arranged 
 for by Mrs. Baur calling Mrs. McCormick on the telephone, then as 
 quickly sending her butler to take the place of the one who was out 
 for the moment. 
 
 However it all may have happened, it is generally known in con- 
 nection with this historic visit, a fine and satisfying episode in the life 
 of this subject, and memorable to her household staff as well, that later 
 she received from her royal guest and friend, a handsome textile tea 
 set of rare weave and colors. This will be always treasured; first, as 
 a souvenir of a memorable visit; second, because of its fabrication on 
 far-off Eastern looms. In addition to this gift of mark, and which 
 came with the promptness characteristic of royalty, was an invitation 
 to Mrs. Baur to pay a visit to her majesty and family in their summer 
 home in Roumania, a pleasure denied for the time, by the death of 
 King Ferdinand soon after his queen's return from America. 
 
 In any case it must appear that considerable suavity, diplomacy, 
 political sagacity, business acumen, have it whatever you wish, attaches 
 to Bertha Baur. It is in her blood. Two cultures are greater than 
 
118 Our Own Lady 
 
 one. Her race is noted for its quality of self-assertion, asserting itself 
 over events; for resolution to conquer circumstances. In plain English 
 it means to know what you want, then go after it. 
 
 Unmixed racial blood, generations of education, refinements in 
 environment, social amenities, association with people of worth from 
 otherwheres, will evolve in superior human examples when planted on 
 these shores, and eventually blend, as we know, for we are a mixture 
 of races, many nationalities. The keenness, rush and energy, the sub- 
 tleties of our people owe to this admixture, racial ideas and traits 
 from other lands. We know this from the fact that we of the United 
 States are like no other people, and yet something within us character- 
 istic of all the races of men. These qualities meeting in a well balanced 
 equity-loving person will afford a human demonstration of two or more 
 cultures, a Bertha Baur, for example. The word "United," in our 
 country's title has a grand meaning besides its political one; united 
 from all peoples as well in a mighty chain of states. Proof that He 
 has made of one blood all the nations of men, if this superiority comes 
 from blending the elements of the humanity of races. 
 
Through A White House Window 
 
 XV 
 
 "They well deserve to have — 
 That knowest the strongest and surest way to get." 
 
 In June, 1928, Mrs. Baur was chosen Republican National commit- 
 teewoman for Illinois, taking her seat as a member of the committee 
 during the party's national convention in Kansas City, Missouri. 
 
 This honor, a crowning attainment, evidences no mean value in the 
 Elysian fields of politics, especially when governed as we are by party 
 predominance. In its membership sagacity and practicality coupled 
 with the brave quality known as leadership, count handsomely in the 
 course of one's political advancement. With the leaders of all parties 
 she agrees that the basis of sound government rests upon two-party 
 representation and organization. She wanted the position, worked to 
 secure it, and so thereby earned it. By the time named for the assem- 
 bling of the convention, she had all the necessary work done for secur- 
 ing her place as one of that committee. She rightly values a seat with 
 the great band of president-making workers, and Illinois people know- 
 ing earnestness and ability when they see them, generally are ready to 
 honor our intelligent womanhood. 
 
 The convention just mentioned which nominated Mr. Hoover for 
 President, and Senator Curtis for Vice-president, was productive of 
 another example of her readiness, and generally she is found ready: 
 A rather assertive meddler, in an Eastern state delegation, her heart 
 filled with hope that no woman not known as a dry should be named 
 for a national committeeship, a place of so much responsibility and 
 honor, as she rightly held it to be, stirred the episode. 
 
 This delegate from "down East" bustling about in high state of 
 earnestness to see to it so far as her efforts would prevent, that only 
 a dry of the dryest of the drys could hope for the honor, finally was 
 frankly told that the naming of a member for Illinois was not an east- 
 ern question, not a bit of it. If, however, it could by any manner of 
 reasoning be considered such, that madam would better rest easy, just 
 hold her horses, for Bertha Baur had the promised necessary votes 
 at the instant securely reposing in her capacious hand bag awaiting 
 
 119 
 
120 Our Own Lady 
 
 their call for use; that she expected to be seated as a member of the 
 national Republican committee "presently," meaning soon, within a 
 few hours. 
 
 The record is that these expectations materialized in a very short 
 time after this assurance had been made to the eastern member with 
 fighting propensities. Again something like Greek meeting Greek. 
 
 Thus we arrive at the time and place of this clever woman's depar- 
 ture from the shades of limited fields, for a vaster arena, many of 
 these scenes left richer for her long and active part in their cultiva- 
 tion and broadening. As an exponent of party loyalty and devotion 
 she will be an effective official in the party of her allegiance; she con- 
 siders the great achievements and administration of the Republicans 
 for more than seventy-five years, form one of the brightest pages in 
 universal history. 
 
 Success never fails to give growing appetite or desire for all the 
 pleasures that depend on advantageous social position and recogni- 
 tion. All these long have been Mrs. Baur's. She is living proof that 
 education and fitness, are personal conquests and acquisitions, not 
 endowments or bequests, and that their value to the individual lies 
 in the struggle to acquire, the uses to which applied, though no other 
 personal possessions give equal pleasure and satisfaction. She knows 
 party politics, economic and commercial ethics, organization and regu- 
 lation, is expert in managing and directing affairs of public policy 
 and has the great quality of calculation. A well-informed representa- 
 tive is the Illinois Republican committeewoman. 
 
 An intense and winged period of a few weeks followed the June 
 convention, a period enlivened by watchful interest in all the prelim- 
 inaries incident to the establishment and opening of the great Western 
 headquarters in Chicago. 
 
 During the prelude Mrs. Baur was a guest of General and Mrs. 
 Dawes in their Evanston home on the occasion of the stop-over visit 
 of the Republican presidential nominee, Mr. Hoover and his wife, on 
 their way West. General Dawes was then Vice-president, Mrs. Baur 
 but recently elected a member of the National committee. Honorable 
 James W. Good, ex-member of Congress from Iowa, soon to be named 
 the Western manager for the Republicans, in charge of the Chicago 
 headquarters, was living just around the block from the Vice-president. 
 This instance of helpful association is mentioned merely as another of 
 the examples that have bestrown this committeewoman 's career. Other 
 women may be elected to places on national committees, but few of 
 them are known to have their earliest days after appointment made of 
 so much value by association for the gaining of first hand knowledge. 
 
Through a White House Window 121 
 
 In the gesture appeared the head, his leader (Dr. Work, the committee 
 chairman was then in Chicago), his manager to be. Her remarkable 
 contacts certainly afford a subject of interest for the inquirif«rg mind. 
 Some men are marked by this ready trait of mixing and always being 
 ready; rarely are women given it. It really is alertness, to know 
 whom to see, and when and where to see them. Time is a great factor 
 in matters political. 
 
 About six weeks after the Kansas City convention, began in great 
 earnestness the mighty labor to be carried on in the Western head- 
 quarters opened in Chicago. From thence forward there was not a 
 moment's lull until about twenty-four hours before the dawn of elec- 
 tion day. 
 
 Fine quarters of many rooms, in some instances whole floors, were 
 inaugurated in the gigantic 333 Building, North Michigan avenue. 
 It was a proud location from which the views to be had were over the 
 great city, the famous little river and glorious Lake Michigan. One is 
 not forgetting to mention far vistas up and down one of the world's 
 finest boulevards as it threads in course for many, many miles near to, 
 then on the shore of the inland sea, to whose name the splendid cause- 
 way gives added distinction. Speedily the headquarters became the 
 place of all places to good Republicans, and was visited by many 
 thousands from everywhere, all during the memorable campaign, for 
 Secretary of Commerce Herbert C. Hoover, of California, for President, 
 and United States Senator Charles Curtis from Kansas, for Vice-presi- 
 dent. For such a cause and in such a setting all workers found the 
 inspiration that prompted energy to the utmost. 
 
 Not one of that army of workers had another thought than that 
 Mr. Hoover will live in history as the one who blazed for himself and 
 by himself the most wondrous trail, leading from cot and prairie to 
 mines and steppes, over continents, mountains and seas, and back; to 
 the feeding of the famishing, the rescue of the perishing; to place and 
 power, and fame, and let us hope happiness, ever to bare human foot- 
 prints. That Mr. Curtis, lately by someone said to be "the first 
 American is at least next to the first" is one of Time's steady oarsmen; 
 his life current bearing a picturesque destiny had beginning in the long, 
 long ago; his trail one of quiet and honesty, toil, duty and dignity, its 
 end in eminence by force of fitness blending with character, he is saluted 
 by the whole great people. 
 
 Engaged in the tremendous work of the great headquarters, were 
 some 550 men and women, and speedily they buckled down to the work 
 in hand. Mrs. Baur supervised women's work and as a member of 
 the national committee, in addition carried much responsibility during 
 
122 Our Own Lady 
 
 the canvass. She wrote, spoke both before audiences and over the 
 radio, directed, advised and presided; helped to devise means for 
 raising funds, watched every movement likely to enhance the value of 
 women's efforts, their conserving, co-ordinating, with the one view to the 
 best possible results. 
 
 She made some trips to New York and Washington on campaign 
 business, through Michigan on like errands, and several into various 
 parts of Illinois. All kinds of meetings were on all the time and every- 
 where. The weekly breakfasts of her Woman's Finance committee 
 were held in the Woman's Athletic club, one of the most sweetly hos- 
 pitable women's clubs of the many Chicago retreats in that category. 
 These nice matinees had their beginning early in the campaign. The 
 last one and the best one of them all, like unto the wine at the wedding 
 in Bible history, a memorable one indeed, took place on November 
 second. Its speakers' list named Mr. James Rudolph Garfield, a son 
 of the martyr-President Garfield; the present-time Governor of Illinois, 
 his Excellency Louis L. Emmerson and the Honorable Omer N. Custer, 
 elected Illinois state treasurer in that campaign. Earlier ones had been 
 attended by Hon. David A. Shanahan, the speaker in tfie State Assem- 
 bly; the late Hon. James W. Good, Western campaign manager; Mr. 
 George Woodruff, assistant treasurer of the National Republican com- 
 mittee; Mr. John W. O'Leary, one of Chicago's great bankers, chair- 
 man of the Men's Finance committee. There had attended others of 
 equal prominence as men and Republicans, every one of them a fine 
 speaker, and every one of them gave of his best on the interesting and 
 enlivening morning occasions. 
 
 Mrs. Baur was served at the long table on the platform at which 
 she presided, whereat also worked the tellers and treasurer. During 
 Mr. Garfield's speech, there entered and passed to her side, the Hon- 
 orable Emmerson, then Illinois' Secretary of State, at the moment his 
 party's nominee for governor. His breakfast tray, invitingly arranged, 
 was quickly passed up to him. A man of fine sensibilities he naturally 
 absorbed much of the glow and stimulating atmosphere wherein the 
 final effort was being made to go over the top with the amount promised 
 to the National Treasurer, by the membership. 
 
 Viewing with interest the speaking piles of bills and cheques before 
 the tellers, he drew forth a "Wear-ever" appearing wallet and from 
 it handed to the president perfectly beautiful bills to the amount of 
 two hundred dollars. Nice words from the chair, cheers of joy from the 
 women, and the Honorable Secretary of State was given a few undis- 
 turbed moments for his refreshments; his day had begun very early 
 
Through a White House Window 123 
 
 they realized. During the moment of counting and calm, entered the 
 amiable Mr. Custer. His short speech, just a few words of political 
 wisdom, was immensely enjoyed by all, and earned for him a nicely 
 arranged tray, also. 
 
 The cheers and praise, the hope and needs, the atmosphere, the 
 lovely place of meeting and fine refreshments, the hour so near to the 
 close of the strenuous campaign, the eager discerning women, all these 
 enticements were effective, absorbing, taken in copious drafts it 
 appeared for the nominee for state treasurer, took from his pocket a 
 nice roll of money and counted off a perfectly gorgeous two hundred 
 and fifty dollars which he handed to the treasurer. From the chair a 
 deserved panegyric for the whole galaxy of men named on the ticket, 
 especially the two nominees by her side. 
 
 It all was splendid enough, altogether lovely, more so even when 
 Mr. Emmerson again brought forth to public gaze that plethoric wallet 
 and added fifty dollars, not to be outdone by anyone, no siree. That 
 final gesture was electrifying. Just then and there came the topper, 
 afforded by someone's handing to Mrs. Baur one of Mr. Julius Rosen- 
 wald's pocket pictures, and imagine! written in four figures, if memory 
 serves me — as that good man is such a princely giver — one is safe in 
 that statement. It all was thrilling as Madam President fluttered before 
 the meeting the pretty cheque and those bills in the company of others 
 offered earlier, and made the cheering announcement that we were over 
 the top all right, and could look the world in the face. 
 
 Thus again we owed our united thanks for about the thousandth 
 time to Bertha Baur's leadership. She would be able to turn in every 
 cent of the $75,000 the women had promised the national treasurer, as 
 from the Republican women of Chicago, for the use of the national 
 committee in the Hoover-Curtis campaign. Good old white elephant! 
 Unfailing Mrs. Baur! Glorious Chicago Republican women! It was 
 hallelujah time. 
 
 Then followed a short speech from the president, she rarely makes 
 any other kind, and this particular speech in quality she has never been 
 known to excel. Followed the salute to the flag, the vote of thanks, a 
 very real tribute from a fine assembly of responsible women. There 
 followed some presentations, more cheers and waving of flags and 
 serviettes and it was all over, as in three days after it was all ended 
 everywhere in the unparalleled vote cast for Mr. Hoover, Secretary 
 of Commerce, for President, and Senator Curtis for Vice-president. 
 It was good to be alive in such stirring times. 
 
124 Our Own Lady 
 
 The vivacious and sincere girl of the wondrous first McKinley 
 campaign, in this one was at the head; great advancement in every 
 line all along the way had been hers, and it had been constant in kind, 
 joyful and consistent. How does she do it? How has she made her 
 way to her present standing? How does she do it? 
 
 She is a born politician, life is her game, she plays it with every 
 pasteboard in the deck. She knows what she wants, she studies the 
 situation, puts her mind on whatever it is she has in hand and goes 
 forth determined to win. She wills to win. Bends everything to her 
 will. Every point won counts. She is a winner, therefore heads her 
 list. "That which we seek is in our souls." 
 
 It all was "wonderful," truly so, all over again. Without any 
 fear of being considered too praiseful, is to say, there is no case 
 that parallels with Bertha Baur's in the city of Chicago, or for the 
 matter of that, any place else. 
 
 It was in the realization of the grandeur of the hour in our history, 
 that as President-elect, Mr. Hoover should pay his acknowledgment 
 in tears, for it was a startling and moving tribute he had received. Ours 
 a wondrous people, truly so and joyously so, and never half-hearted. 
 
 With wife and children, brother, neighbors and friends, in his 
 loved hill-side home, away off there by the Golden Gate; on the rim 
 of his vast and mighty country; near the tranquil Southern sea, in 
 quiet, peace and honor, a world's acclaim in the air, literally so; 
 moonlight and song of nightingales; parades of youth accompanied by 
 muted music, flower-perfumed atmosphere, he could say with a full 
 heart and welling eyes, only — "Well, mother ..." 
 
 Let us think of the hour, picture the man and his career! In all 
 history not another hour has furnished so adequately the apex of a 
 wondrous life. Verily the voters are the wonder of the world. From 
 the voters comes the big thrill and the last, their ballots and nothing 
 more. It is well! "We, the people!" Our mighty Presidency seems 
 to be known of all. And there have been those who dared to declare 
 that women did not want the ballot! Wonder of wonders! 
 
 One memorable evening near the close of the canvass, Mrs. Baur 
 and a large number from the headquarter's staff, were the guests of 
 President Will J. Bell for dinner at the Hamilton club, that much 
 loved headquarters for Republican inspiration and uplift. At this 
 crowded and decorative affair she was one of the speakers, among 
 whom were several of the nominees for various high offices. Yes, we 
 dined and supped often, but modestly, and we took tea on almost every 
 occasion of a few or many Republicans getting together. We worked 
 
Through a White House Window 125 
 
 hard, very hard as always, and tea is cheering and occasions such joyful 
 association, if only for a brief hour; dinners are of course far more 
 helpful in many ways, whatever the enterprise affording them. 
 
 In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confi- 
 dence shall be your strength. 
 
 — Isaiah. 
 
 There was no European voyaging in the full year of 1928, I believe, 
 but early in the new year our lady of affairs went south for a while, 
 as it appeared the whole world of wealth and fashion, also all the 
 world in politics were doing. In Miami she enjoyed a rest and change 
 after a long season of political and other wearing work. There it was 
 she paid her duty call on the President-elect and Mrs. Hoover, who 
 were resting for a time, in one of the loveliest home-retreats at Miami. 
 
 It will be recalled that it was shortly before election day that Mr. 
 and Mrs. Hoover left Washington for their home and voting place 
 in Palo Alto, California. 
 
 As the world does not forget, this unusual couple, the President- 
 elect and Mrs. Hoover, departed thence for Washington and the 
 White House, via their unique visiting tour to the Central and South 
 Americas. A very grand itinerate, unlike any other known to us. 
 From one continent to another and back and not returning home, 
 instead at its close, assuming official life in the first home, and the high- 
 est official place in the nation. This illustrates ease acquired by much 
 travel, innumerable official connections necessitating constant change 
 in homes or places of abode, in the east and in the west. Long ago 
 it came to be realized that the world is the home of President and 
 Mrs. Hoover. What matters it to them what or where the habitation 
 so long as they are together? 
 
 Bertha was loath to leave Miami for eager, swirling Washington, 
 the scene of the Americas' greatest drama. But naturally she wished 
 to witness the ceremonies in distinction of the inauguration of Mr. 
 Hoover as President and the induction of the Vice-president, Mr. Cur- 
 tis, as the climax of the campaign she had helped to carry on. Besides, 
 generally, she attends presidential inaugurations. 
 
 Her life in the nation's pleasure-loving capital is full, every day 
 pleasurable largely owing to her wide acquaintance. Visitors from 
 every section of the nation gather there for the quadrennial festivities. 
 Naturally she meets many of these, owing to her long-time connection 
 with the organized forces that keep the wheels going round. Count- 
 less fine features in social and official life, many of great historic 
 
126 Our Own Lady 
 
 interest, mark the life of residents and visitors during the period of the 
 change of administration. Many brilliant contributions owe to the 
 official world wherein so many representatives of other countries con- 
 tribute much in the way of delightful entertaining. That is Washington. 
 
 During the 1929 season the women members of the National Repub- 
 lican committee were on several occasions singled out for special atten- 
 tions, again, the quality of courtesy for which the capital city is pre- 
 eminent. Foremost to do them honor was Mrs. Hoover, who gave them 
 a tea soon after she entered on her new life in the White House. In 
 addition it fell to the distinguished Illinois member to be photographed 
 by the side of the new President in the White House gardens, along 
 with leading members of Chicago's Hamilton club and some of the 
 ladies of their party. Mr. Will J. Bell, the president of the club, on 
 that occasion presented a gold membership card to President Hoover, 
 and the ceremony, very appropriately was photographed for Clio's big 
 book. 
 
 A little story about how promptly on arriving at the White House 
 that morning, the Hamilton club was received, instances another exam- 
 ple of Mrs. Baur's fearlessness in a moment calling for action. When 
 the members arrived for their meeting with the President, they were 
 told of a hitch in the morning's arrangements, owing to which they 
 would not be able to meet the President that day; that another group 
 had precedence. On that instant she brought into play her old maxim, 
 "Nothing is impossible" and climbed up a little and entered an open 
 window, hurriedly making her presence known to the official in charge. 
 And lo ! As by a miracle, the order was given that the Hamilton Club 
 of Chicago would be the next to see the President. There is much in 
 knowing how, just as much in seeing a way. 
 
 Very recently Mrs. "Billy" Mitchell, wife of the flying and like-to-be 
 flaying General William Mitchell, who declared our flying forces 
 deserved greater recognition and had quite a world sharing his views, 
 was at the White House for some affair. Through an open window 
 she discovered her friend outside and owing to the crowd could not 
 possibly reach her; thereupon she quickly let herself down through it, 
 to the amazement of her friend. So much for some White House "exits 
 and entrances," such as would have delighted the heart of the brilliant 
 Charles Warren Stoddard, whose book entitled Exits and Entrances is 
 a literary gem. 
 
 Soon after her return home Mrs. Baur was made an honorary mem- 
 ber of the Hamilton Club of Chicago (the only woman member), 
 and the club at that time established the precedent whereby every 
 
Through a White House Window 127 
 
 Republican national committeewoman from Illinois will enjoy that same 
 privilege and distinction. A token of woman's steady advancement. 
 
 Following her auspicious outing of several weeks of variations, she 
 was elected President of the Woman's National Republican Club of 
 Chicago. Late in April she gave in her home a social and tea for the 
 association. Among her guests were women from seven adjoining or 
 nearby states, then in Chicago for a conference on the Women's Repub- 
 lican associations in their respective states. Their meetings are named 
 the District Council of Republican Women. It was an inspiring meet- 
 ing, in which everybody was introduced to everybody else, and the 
 hostess-president had several of the visitors from all directions and 
 within whatever boundary, make speeches, and every one of these was 
 of helpful quality aside from the value of the exchange of ideas and 
 the telling of methods, always a helpful feature. Many new members 
 were gained for her National Woman's Republican Club of Chicago, all 
 of which was heartening to the new president. 
 
 After some days, likely in the first week of May, took place in a 
 simple and fitting setting, on presidents' annual dinner night at the 
 Hamilton club, the ceremony of Mrs. Baur's reception into the Hamil- 
 ton club membership, and the presentation of her special membership 
 certificate. The ceremony was held in the main dining-room, wherein 
 countless favored ones have enjoyed good dinners, revelled in fine com- 
 panionship, and enjoyed stirring demonstrations of republicanism, as it 
 is recognized as subject-matter for inculcation and demonstration by 
 Republican leaders. Oh, for a list of the fine meetings in honor of 
 noted men and women, speakers, writers, statesmen, travellers, from 
 all over the world, that dear old Hamilton Club of Chicago has held! 
 It would be illuminating, a veritable Golden Book. 
 
 Mrs. Baur's distinction at the hands of the membership owes to 
 her position as Illinois National Republican committeewoman, as before 
 stated herein. 
 
 In return it must be added, though such an exclusive honor, she 
 attaches a very high value to this recognition, as well to the great 
 worth of the staunch old club. 
 
 Long before arriving at this point in the little story, it is very 
 plain to all, that Bertha Baur's has not been an Andalusian life of 
 joying in the sunshine, of making a virtue of elegant loafing and idleness, 
 or, as the Latin world's people would word it, "Making a religion 
 of love." Au contraire. She has work aplenty as well as motive, and 
 does not know how to apply the saying "Nothing makes life dreary but 
 lack of motive, and something to do." To this statement all who 
 know the diligent woman will readily subscribe. 
 
128 Our Own Lady 
 
 Spinning along in a dot-and-dash fashion with the little story of an 
 active career, in manner of selection rather than in the usual narrative 
 style of recording, owes to the life of this unusual woman affording 
 too much for record according to choice of details in the limits pre- 
 scribed. The activities touched upon in all too inadequate fashion, con- 
 tribute merely outlines of the woman's work and capacity. From these 
 random selections one can envision her full years and months; enjoy 
 the realization of the fact of her almost unbelievable health; marvel 
 at her variety and the continuity of her enthusiasm; these bring the 
 thought to picture a full average day. 
 
 Reader, though you may be one familiar with Mrs. Baur's every- 
 day life, have you ever thought to picture for others a full day in that 
 life? Have you ever thought of the meaning of her name? Bertha 
 is a Saxon name meaning bright, or famous. And that "Elizabeth" 
 and its strong meaning! She exemplifies them both. 
 
 Let us imagine her estate and connections owing thereto, her home 
 and staff, her business, going and coming at every beck and call. So, for 
 the purpose and in the hope of rounding out a bit as to the disposition 
 of her time, citing too, something of the speed at which she is capable 
 of working (a point worthy of note), and very often she carries on 
 exactly as here related, is given the history of a full hour in a crowded 
 morning. 
 
 It was during the Hoover-Smith contest, when she was in full charge 
 of the work of the women for the Republican ticket, the canvass her 
 first as a member of the President-making committee. On receiving an 
 assignment, a writer hastened to her office about the important matter 
 which required her personal attention in its execution if not some dis- 
 cussion as to ways and means. There was found a veritable assembly, 
 a room-full. In front of and along two sides of her desk people were 
 waiting, and she always works at a desk half the size of a town lot, 
 and never since years ago, in a small room. Here were secretaries and 
 clerks with papers and messages of importance, with letters for signing, 
 messengers, several callers waiting about in patience; her chauffeur 
 charged with the important duty of seeing her off on a certain train; 
 there were reporters, special writers, a few officials, all waiting turns. 
 Seeing the latest caller, for a moment transfixed in wonder at any chance 
 in the brief time remaining, she motioned to a chair near her, and reach- 
 ing her side there was a quick left-hand clasp, never a word, not one. 
 The moment called to mind like scenes in the postoffice reception room 
 a long time ago. In that vast room would be seen at times three 
 sides of it lined with waiting callers on every conceivable kind of 
 mission. Then it was her custom to pass along from one on to the 
 
Through a White House Window 129 
 
 next, note book in hand, pencil jotting. It appeared that her mind 
 worked on memory of faces and dates unerringly. In this late instance 
 it was but three or four minutes spent in enjoying her dispatching, 
 until a cool-headed, un-hurried private secretary came from some work- 
 ing nook with a page of typed instructions, the page bearing also 
 one hurried word in pencil, "au revoir." Busy and driven, yet the call 
 had been foreseen, the point devined, and she had dictated full instruc- 
 tions a moment before entering her office. No time could be taken for 
 a word, but the several-tracked mind had it all agoing, everything, and 
 that writer was on her glad way, fully equipped and with authority, in 
 a jiffy. Picture that hour's work if you can, — a thousand details, but 
 never worried a hair. She never worries or sputters. One has declared 
 "it is Bertha Baur's strategy to capture the human heart." That same 
 strategy was declared the chief aim of Miss Willard by many of her 
 loving followers. She too, was one who never sputtered or worried. 
 A saying of hers was, "Badgered to the limit of endurance, but not 
 worried a hair." 
 
 Mrs. Baur has called Chicago home for thirty-five years and holds 
 membership in the following named organizations. Most important is: 
 
 Republican National Committeewoman for Illinois. 
 Others: 
 
 A Trustee for the Chicago Century of Progress for 1933, 
 
 Member and President of the Woman's National Republican Club 
 of Chicago. 
 Member of: 
 
 Hamilton Club of Chicago as the only woman Hamiltonian, 
 
 Woman's City Club, 
 
 Woman's Athletic Club. 
 
 Woman's Trade Union League, 
 
 Chicago Historical Society, 
 
 Woman's Bar Association, 
 
 Chicago Music Association, 
 
 The Drama League, 
 
 Lower North Community Council, 
 
 Men's Committee of the Illinois Children's Home and Aid Society, 
 
 Steuben Club, 
 
 American Woman's Club, London, England, 
 
 Republican Woman' Club, New York, N. Y., 
 
 Women's Chicago Beautiful Association, 
 
 Woman's Auxiliary of Grant Hospital, 
 
 Visiting Nurses Association, 
 
 Vocational Society for Shut-Ins, 
 
130 Our Own Lady 
 
 Illinois League of Women Voters, 
 
 Casino Club, 
 
 Saddle and Cycle Club. 
 
 Trustee of the Civic Opera Company, and Chairman for the Executive 
 Board, her work for which great enterprise has been invaluable 
 since its organization in 1922. 
 
 Governing member of the Art Institute of Chicago. 
 
 Director of the Federal Securities Corporation. 
 
 Life Member of the Arts Club, the Chairman of its Executive Com- 
 mittee since 1918. Also for a time was a Director. 
 
 Life Member: 
 
 Chicago Woman's Club, 
 Cordon Club, 
 Field Museum. 
 
 Member of the North Central Improvement Association, and of the 
 commission to investigate the advisability of creating a Mississippi 
 River Park System in Illinois, appointed by Governor Emmerson 
 in January, 1930. 
 
 Is identified as one of the organizers of the Rummage Shop for the 
 benefit of the Children's Memorial Hospital, and with the Lying- 
 in Hospital. 
 
 Member of the Woman's Association of Commerce (twice the Asso- 
 ciation's delegate to International conventions in Europe). 
 
Their Child An Heiress 
 
 XVI 
 
 "Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, 
 Are lost on hearers that our merits know." 
 
 Some may think of this couplet as applicable to this story, but many 
 do not know Mrs. Baur. To those who read it and have by other 
 means learned about her namely through newspapers and magazines, 
 and so know all about her many-sidedness, and those who know her 
 merits, there will be felt satisfaction in summing up with a few para- 
 graphs about her greatest work of all, her labor of love and unfailing 
 devotion. 
 
 At the time of Mr. Baur's passing away and leaving a large fortune, 
 many predicted that in its conservation his wife's business ability and 
 executive force would have fine application. No one at all had any 
 doubt that it would increase, and the interests of the estate enlarge 
 under her administration. 
 
 So time proved. She never has dallied a moment in her devotion to 
 those interests, or ceased in vigilance as guard over the fortune. 
 
 Mr. Baur made a beautiful will, which was signed and executed 
 before his marriage. According to the laws of Illinois, it was vitiated 
 by that rite. And so it was that in the month of May, 1929, when their 
 child became of legal age according to the laws of her native state, 
 which laws provide that one-third of an estate of an intestate goes to 
 the widow, and two-thirds to the child or children, Miss Rosemary 
 Baur, Chicago's best known child, little girl, young lady now, became 
 an heiress. 
 
 A student in Bryn Mawr, she laid aside her studies for a brief space 
 and returned to her home for the legal requirements attending the 
 transfer, whereupon her mother, being also her legal personal guardian 
 as well as of her estate, put her in possession of her inheritance, in the 
 form of two-thirds of her father's estate. The act constituted an envia- 
 ble birthday gift, as well as an historical local conclusion of high inter- 
 est. The estate had as predicted, quite handsomely increased above 
 what it was seventeen years before at the death of its founder. Two 
 fortunate women; he left them so as to worldly affairs. After a quiet 
 
 131 
 
132 Our Own Lady 
 
 day of business, during which neither lady was required to appear in 
 court, and a restful Sunday celebration of her birthday anniversary, the 
 most important of all birthdays, the date of "coming of age," in their 
 Astor street home, the composed and distinguished young lady returned 
 to her school. 
 
 At the moment of her departure to finish her freshman's year, the 
 mother expressed her hopes that all their plans would be carried out, 
 one of which was and the outstanding one, that the daughter would 
 continue her studies. Her fondest hope went aglimmering, as the young 
 lady chose to end her school days in April, 1931. She stated also 
 that in her judgment the daughter was fully competent to handle her 
 affairs, and far too wise to be spoilt by her fortune. 
 
 This momentous birthday, and day of settlement in the lives of 
 the mother and her child, contributed a speaking picture that deserves 
 preservation in this book, and it would be gratifying to associate with 
 it the artist's name were it possible to do so. They were photographed 
 together just before taking their car at the home door, the moment 
 affording a striking ensemble. Seventeen years of strenuous life, lived 
 to the utmost, including constant watchfulness of her child's welfare, 
 guardianship of her estate, care to rearing and education as desired by 
 the child's father, in one sense ended that hour, that instant, maybe. 
 
 The guardian-mother's work was finished. Behold the record, the 
 object of it all. There stood the mother, and if ever pose revealed 
 feeling, memory, sentiment, trust, hope, surely in that flash of time 
 Bertha Baur expressed them all, and the artist caught the expression. 
 In that pose of a second she plainly expressed, "I am sure her father 
 would be satisfied, prideful. I have done my best." There is also 
 wistfulness, just a wee natural look as if longing to know, in that 
 wonderful moment; and there is plainly seen a real content with the 
 quiet, serious young person standing near. That figure, her child, 
 appears to be contemplating in filial pride of possession, a perfectly 
 satisfactory mother. A unique presentation. 
 
 Three weeks later Mrs. Baur and her daughter again sailed away 
 from home shores, for many weeks of pleasure, change and experiences, 
 study and travel, in their loved Old World, so called. 
 
 Their first diversion after a pleasurable voyage, was in England. 
 On Wednesday evening, June 26th, Miss Baur was presented at the 
 English court by Mrs. Dawes. It was the last drawing-room of the 
 season of 1929, and the first court attended by our recently appointed 
 Ambassador to St. James's, General Charles G. Dawes, and Mrs. Dawes. 
 They had arrived at their post of honor and of duties, less than a fort- 
 night before, and had been received by the English King and Queen 
 
Their Child an Heiress 
 
 133 
 
 Photo courtesy of Chicago Tribune 
 
 Mrs. Baur and her daughter at their home door, May 12, 1929. Miss Baur became of legal 
 
 age that day 
 
134 Our Own Lady 
 
 a day or so after arriving in London. For their introduction to their 
 British majesties, and for the purpose of presenting the Ambassador's 
 credentials, they had the pleasure of a journey out to royal Windsor 
 Castle, where the sovereigns had been in residence for some time for 
 the sake of the King's health. 
 
 It must have been a gratifying experience for them to have in their 
 train on the auspicious occasion of their first court attendance, the 
 daughter of one they had for so long known, though so youthful, of 
 considerable distinction, and the only lady from the West introduced 
 by Mrs. Dawes on that date. It is remarkable how the lives of these 
 two noted Chicago families have so nearly paralleled, at least been 
 similar in very many instances, since their meeting in the McKinley- 
 for-the-presidency campaign, in dear old marvelous Chicago, where, as 
 a matter of history, they all have wrought so worthily. 
 
 Of the beautiful court and its ceremony, especially to Mrs. Dawes, 
 who has experienced so much during her happy career, there must have 
 been pleasurable anticipation of, and happiness in, the realization of 
 the reception to the ladies who hold our attention. There is certainty 
 of the fine dignity of Mrs. Dawes, her rich attire, her assurance, as 
 she presented her country women to the gracious English Queen, alone 
 on her dais, disappointing to relate. To her place of estate and alone- 
 ness, owing to the frail health of her Sovereign, the Queen was escorted 
 in royal progress through brilliance of assembly, and gorgeous salons, 
 by the Prince of Wales, their eldest son, heir apparent to the throne, 
 who remained near the dais; near also were several other members of 
 the Sovereigns' family, other royalties and high personages. 
 
 The mingling of the fine assembly in the great throne room, and the 
 adjoining brilliant salons, in social diversion and evident happiness is 
 pleasurable to envision to those who read, have travelled, and mayhap 
 seen some of the grandeur, ceremonies and select personages, who so 
 vividly contribute to the world's nice features. It is indeed a satisfying 
 occasion, in surroundings, in every detail, all respects. There is glitter 
 of jewels, color in uniforms, distinction in costumes worn by beautiful 
 and stately women and gallant men. The personnel is always strik- 
 ing and proud, while the fairy-like pageantry contributes a moment of 
 pleasure and admiration that live in the memory for always. The 
 Briton's sturdy loyalty to his monarchy and the pomp surrounding it 
 are beautiful. To be numbered in such an assembly, with a part on 
 such an occasion, such happiness of ensemble, to be thus afforded an 
 opportunity to look upon one of the grand scenes of one's times, should 
 to aliens be considered a matter of inestimable consideration, priv- 
 
Their Child an Heiress 135 
 
 ilege and honor. It is a fine tradition to share, a gracious permission 
 to receive, and none should ever forget that the homage is never 
 required or desired from the American or any other nation. 
 
 Miss Baur, her home-city's best-known young lady, student, travel- 
 ler and dutiful daughter, for her presentation, is pictured in a costume 
 with draperies and train; her long hair beautifully arranged, orna- 
 mented with the required Prince of Wales three white feathers (these 
 were not worn as a matter of course, on her debut made in her native 
 Chicago). Color of the historic gown is lily-of-the-valley green, cloak 
 of brocade and ermine, lining, green velvet; ornaments, splendid pearls, 
 and a wrist watch; flowers, lilies-of-the-valley and gladioli. Her pres- 
 ence was fine, as she is rather tall, is slender, graceful and composed. 
 
 Queen Mary was wearing green and gold, her becoming tiara embel- 
 lished with historic South African diamonds and other gleaming stones, 
 and over her blue ribbon of the Order of the Garter were other jewels 
 of enormous values and radiance, such as generally worn by her on 
 occasions of state, as well as the several magnificent orders to which 
 she is entitled. England's Queen is handsome, of highest intelligence 
 and never for an instant ceases to be a queen, the most unaffected 
 queen in the world. Everyone who enters her presence is at once at 
 natural ease owing to her personality and charm. She is royal in 
 mind and utterly royal in manner. 
 
 Ambassador Dawes appeared in evening dress exactly as he pre- 
 sents himself to our President on formal occasions. He is gentleman 
 of generations, and adorns whatever attire he appears in. His 
 ancestry dates from England, beginning in the long ago of time. 
 
The White House — Buckingham Palace 
 
 XVII 
 
 All mankind, rich and poor, powerful and weak, as well as all 
 nations, here and abroad, constitute a part of our universe. 
 
 — Max Adler. 
 
 Our President's receptions in the White House in Washington are 
 equally beautiful with court functions, but of another type of beauty; 
 not so glamorous, never fairy-like, not so colorful in uniforms, robes, 
 capes, jewels and orders, not to mention form and ceremonies. These 
 showy, absorbing, striking features of the great world elsewhere than 
 in our capital, generally are gorgeous, elaborate and observed in great 
 splendor with which we have nothing at all to compare, especially 
 does this apply in London, at Windsor and in Rome. 
 
 Our President's wife does not wear a crown, nor even a circlet or 
 bandeau, on any occasion, and would not, it is thought, ever be 
 expected to receive alone on formal or state occasions. Our First Lady 
 may be the wife of the President, and perform many beautiful parts 
 socially, but she cuts no figure in the Presidency. Women always 
 have been more powerful in monarchial or imperial courts, but have 
 never enjoyed any notable political rights in a republic. Our first 
 lady is always beautifully dressed, and on great occasions her attire 
 is magnificent. Needless statement, for all the world knows and 
 remarks the fact that the American women are fine dressers. And, too, 
 we have had some beautiful first ladies, and all of our first ladies 
 have been splendid and wholly equal to the prideful position. 
 
 We have no jewels comparable with those of royal and imperial 
 England, and no orders for women or decorations of noticeable beauty 
 or show; only a few for men as tokens of great merit. 
 
 Our White House is not so large as Buckingham Palace, and can- 
 not at all compare with royal Windsor Castle. But few states if any 
 possess so splendid, historic and valuable a seat or habitation as that 
 stupendous, majestic pile of the Windsors, not mentioning its lordly 
 situation. 
 
 But to us our White House is hallowed — a shrine cherished as the 
 home of our Presidents and for its precious historical associations, 
 and it is serenely beautiful in its quiet design and shaded precincts. 
 
 136 
 
The White House — Buckingham Palace 137 
 
 The presentations made when our President and First Lady receive 
 are less formal, or better worded, more democratic, which does not 
 at all mean common. There is with us no curtseying and no regula- 
 tion as to requirements in costume. Even so, one may not go up to the 
 White House, ring the door bell, and ask to see the lady of the man- 
 sion. Great decorum and fine dignity characterize the White House 
 and all that concerns or attaches to it; it is fittingly ordered and 
 handsomely conducted. It rightfully merits the utmost pride of the 
 nation. Within its walls have been experienced the greatest joys, the 
 depths of sorrows, the highest hopes common to man. 
 
 There is no throne-room in our country, but in President Wash- 
 ington's regime Lady Martha Washington had her dais and adorned 
 it. The East room in our President's house is vast, stately and beau- 
 tiful; our people who meet and mingle therein are interesting, and 
 altogether charming in their sociability and manners. Some of the 
 assemblies that on occasions grace that historic salon are the most 
 representative on earth, in the real sense of the word, excepting no 
 country and no period of time. The occasion may be devoid of 
 glamour and brilliant coloring, speaking comparatively, but it will 
 number fine names, characters of distinction, real human worth. 
 
 It is in the handsome Blue parlor, across which the receiving line 
 takes its place, with the President at the head, that the formal receiv- 
 ing and bowing take place, barring of course special cases, when are 
 used the Red or Green parlors, as when persons of distinction, or 
 visitors from abroad are introduced to the President, and as often 
 the splendid East room, which is very stately. This receiving line 
 consists of the President and his wife or his hostess, the wife of the 
 Vice President or his hostess, and the wives of the President's cab- 
 inet, or if there is no wife, then that cabinet member's hostess. High 
 officials, diplomats, members of the great courts, army and navy 
 officers and others of place and distinction, who are to greet the Presi- 
 dent and the ladies, pass in from the Red parlor as a rule, in which, 
 as well as in the splendid state dining-room on some occasions, they 
 meet and mingle and move about in nice fashion ere the President 
 and the ladies descend from above stairs. Many of these and others 
 just as cultured, favored with invitations to the Blue room, after pass- 
 ing down the receiving line, mingle therein with the great world and 
 are introduced in closer association, in that loved, historic and beau- 
 tiful room. Such a social experience is one unlikely to be forgotten. 
 Richness in memory is the enchanting experience of passing behind 
 the receiving line in the Blue parlor in the White House when the 
 President is receiving formally. 
 
138 Our Own Lady 
 
 This rich and satisfying feature resembles the one at royal palaces 
 on occasions of receiving and introducing, really constituting the 
 court. Persons of distinction, royalties, the official world, nobles, for- 
 eign visitors of note mingle in the throne-room; also those being 
 received for the first time by the sovereigns on their dais. Many 
 greatly love these high privileges and esteem their standing in the 
 world, thrive on their privileges and cherish their every memory. 
 Some almost worship their fortune and importance. It is to such as 
 these the world, nothing less. 
 
 While appreciative, our people seem never to rate so highly the 
 courtesies, minglings and introductions enjoyed at the White House. 
 They are just "receptions," or "a dinner at the White House." Abroad 
 the same affairs are in distinction and noted as attendance at court, 
 etc. But we appreciate within our individual souls all favors received at 
 the White House, and such distinctions are treasured in the family 
 history, just the same. We know full well they are of value, as we 
 feel the world is entitled to all such fine features and cultural associa- 
 tions, just as the world enjoys being told about them. 
 
 A few years ago, our then Chief Justice, William Howard Taft, 
 and Mrs. Taft were present at an English court, and after paying 
 their courteous duty to their majesties, the genial former President 
 and his brilliant wife were welcomed to the circle near the throne, in 
 the place of splendid social distinction, "at court," where had been 
 placed chairs for them at a word from the king. 
 
 Many of our people are received and handsomely treated at other 
 courts as well as at the British throne-side. There is no reason that 
 this should be otherwise. 
 
 Many of our great or nearly so, our eminent who have the priv- 
 ilege of the Blue parlor back of the receiving line as just above men- 
 tioned, choose to pass directly to the East room, (our court) there 
 to meet and mingle with the world that has paid its respectful bow 
 to the President and the ladies who receive with them. In that his- 
 toric room, have taken place resplendent marriage ceremonies, hand- 
 some presentations, great balls, historic signings, some very notable 
 receptions, woeful and magnificent lying-in-state of several Presidents, 
 a few First Ladies, children's funerals of rare beauty and simplicity, 
 and so on. It is a very great souvenir, that lordly East room in the 
 President's house in the capital of the United States. On social and 
 official occasions in their round, therein mingles the nice world, the 
 "pretty people" of this great land. It is all splendid, and entirely 
 
The White House — Buckingham Palace 139 
 
 good for those to whom falls such a pleasure, for the White House, 
 in the words of the late Mrs. Grant, whose home it was for eight 
 wondrous years, "is a glorious habitation." 
 
 But there is no splendor in this country, that is to say in the Old 
 World sense of that word. Over there it really means vastness, lofti- 
 ness and finish. We have the finish but in another sense. Over there 
 one looks on splendor, one thrills to the glamour and ceremony; is 
 impressed by the refinements of the decorum and the easy dignity; 
 the vastness, regal and royal, and military show; and oh, the pro- 
 cessions of notables, the jewels and decorations and people of dis- 
 tinctions, at Buckingham Palace. Great pride is the natural sentiment 
 of the English in their beautiful drawing-room and court ceremonials. 
 It is a beautiful pride and is becoming to them. 
 
 No one wants all countries alike in their polite or state ceremonies. 
 The older the civilization the grander the scale of display, honors, 
 dignity, reserve evolved into ceremonial through the years. Recall 
 the splendor of St. Petersburg, and not such an old city, its tremendous 
 and scenic streets for gala affairs; its enormous palaces with their 
 vast rooms. Send the mind to the bewildering grandeur of colors and 
 enormity and the pealing bells, narrow and crowded streets of Mos- 
 cow, in its lavishness under the Romanoffs. Then there was the glitter 
 and show, decorations, music, uniforms, officers and nobles, visitors, 
 vast shining salons, streets full of armies in their uniforms, decora- 
 tions and clanking arms, the gaiety under the rule of the deposed 
 William of Germany. His courts were alluring, dazzling, enjoyable; 
 he saw to it that they should be so. He loved life and knew how to 
 live. Think of the splendor of festivals in Rome. Sumptuous, satis- 
 fying. There are two seats of grandeur and majesty, besides the City 
 of the World itself which is Rome. Picture the Vatican, the palace 
 wherein dwells the mighty Pope in awesome splendor, and by its side 
 unrivalled St. Peter's, in their enormity and finish. Then the Quirinal 
 Palace, the city home of the sovereigns and family, so lavishly beauti- 
 ful and so enormous. 
 
 Our President has greater authority than almost any other ruler; 
 our people a blending of all races and from all climes are proud, 
 patriotic and worthy, capable in a thousand lines. 
 
 True, we are a little quick, a little hurried; perhaps it would be 
 helpful to our national interests, had we ever so little more of self- 
 control and a little more foresight. We meet a crisis like no other 
 people, never seeming to think what spontaneous action may lead to, 
 or how end. Certainly spontaneity is not deliberation, but we cer- 
 
140 Our Own Lady 
 
 tainly should learn to deliberate. It might be safer were we to take 
 a little more thought for the future. But we are a young nation and 
 youth means impulsiveness. With regard to show and splendor we 
 have originated but little in the way of art, mass display, ceremonies. 
 It is just as well that it is so. It is all good, whether or not it is 
 art or splendor. It is transition. The world soon would become a 
 tiresome place if it were the same everywhere. Besides, our beginning 
 for the most part was by those who wanted a state without a king; 
 a church without a bishop. But if our great family fortunes continue 
 to increase and their number multiply, the holdings of present time 
 rich individuals go on increasing, we shall have in the course of 
 tomorrows, more lordly estates, more palatial homes, greater galleries, 
 more splendid museums, else of what use all this money? The pos- 
 sessors of wealth in this country will no more give their surplus to 
 the poor than have the rich of other countries ever done so. We 
 know not if the rich in other countries and in other times laid up 
 treasures in heaven; we do not lack proof of their building numerously 
 and beautifully while in residence in this lovable old world. In this 
 connection it has come to pass that a few beneficent and useful souls 
 among us already are examples in so enriching the world's store of 
 man-created beauty, among them some who have given colossal sums 
 to the poor. It is therefore becoming to note: 
 
 When in imperial London, if you find yourself in the vicinity of 
 Parliament Houses, the centuries old Abbey near; Whitehall; the 
 National Gallery; the enormous lion-guarded Trafalgar Square cen- 
 tered with Nelson's effigy looming majestically; other speaking and 
 historic buildings and great open spaces, you will realize the grandeur 
 and mightiness of the nation; that you are in the world's greatest 
 city; you will be impressed irresistibly by the over-rich locality. 
 
 When in Chicago, where a few years ago only Indians, their tepees 
 and canoes marked the grass-lands, swamps, river and the lake rim, 
 if you find yourself drinking in the view from vast hotels, club houses 
 or towering office buildings on Michigan boulevard, you will be irre- 
 sistibly impressed by the Field Museum, a white marble temple of 
 architectural purity, enormity and rich possessions; just south looms 
 Soldiers' Field, a giant contribution by the South Park board, with its 
 columns in skyey heights; northward some distance Buckingham 
 Fountain, beautiful beyond words; to the east the wondrous marble 
 Shedd Aquarium. Vast and noble possessions all these. Then nearer 
 the water, yet eastward, the reposeful, massive-domed, granite Adler 
 Planetarium, really a temple for moving pictures of and great lectures 
 
The White House — Buckingham Palace 141 
 
 about the heavens above and around us, the only one on this hemis- 
 phere. By these tremendous tokens, provided by the imaginative with 
 vivid fancies to give opportunity to the poor and rich alike, including 
 another example in the same spirit, as must be done, the gigantic 
 Rosenwald Museum of Science and Industry farther south, in historic 
 Jackson Park, one is unbelievably impressed with the grandeur and 
 mightiness of Chicago. 
 
 One asks who are these men and women of imagination, poetry, 
 learning, philanthropy and with Midas-like wealth, to make such gifts? 
 
 Why, they, with others of equal culture, but not yet able to so 
 lavish their means, are the builders of Chicago, and all their wealth 
 was made in the city of their homes, endeavors and ambitions. 
 
 Pictures to prove a wonderful Century of Progress? 
 
 But be advised, only a Mr. James O'Donnell Bennet can adequately 
 describe for you these men and women, or approach with his facile 
 pen the value of the emblems they have created for the benefit of 
 their fellows. Lately Mr. Bennet has told us through one of his media 
 for enriching the world with his vast fund of knowledge, that there 
 are but nineteen planetaria in existence, and that Chicago's, which has 
 cost its giver, Mr. Max Adler, a musician and a scholarly man of 
 affairs, nearly one million dollars, is the most richly equipped of them 
 all. 
 
 Add to this last mentioned, an institution also unique in the 
 Americas, if not in the world, the cultural and picturesque temple for 
 music and song centered in natural beauty, which is Ravinia at our 
 north door, on which Mr. Louis Eckstein spends so freely from his 
 possessions, monetary and aesthetical, in tribute to his muses. 
 
 In that retreat, a shrine for the soul's nourishment, it is to taste 
 each moment as it passes. 
 
 But with it all and much more there can be no doubt that we will 
 continue to travel and see, buy and collect and build, until maybe in 
 the course of a long time we shall be drawing millions from other 
 lands to view our possessions, for at our present rate we shall have 
 them. 
 
 In any case there really is no best country, no best people, no best 
 nation. We all comprise one grand manhood, for human life under 
 God is one and indivisible. Heaven-blessed places of the noble old 
 world are countless; true, to many, to multitudes there is nothing 
 more beautiful or blest, in memory in some cases, than one's own 
 home, one's own flag. Every people make this claim. It is the feeling 
 of veneration, God-implanted, common to all, it is love of home, and 
 
142 Our Own Lady 
 
 only our language has that word home. So we are one manhood. "He 
 hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their 
 habitation." 
 
 So let us continue to go abroad, and continue to be presented, if we 
 can do so in face of the brainstorms of some of the correspondents and 
 reporters who attack in "meaningless" loyalty to their own institu- 
 tions, those who may in their "smartness" prevent such pleasures, 
 who may insult to the place where the permission for such bowing and 
 curtseying may be denied altogether. Let us be presented to the highest 
 whenever timely. Let us continue to grow in culture and grace, to 
 increase our worth to our dear country. 
 
 Miss Baur's is a good example. 
 
Coronations — Crowds — Splendor 
 
 XVIII 
 
 "Filial piety is that which should regulate the conduct of a people 
 toward their prince." 
 
 A truth which cannot be accounted for to anyone's satisfaction is, 
 that glamour and enticing brilliance, highest culture, intriguing aloof- 
 ness, a sort of sacred social usage and difference attach to England's 
 ancient throne which carry a strong appeal, an alluring interest to 
 many American women to witness. It really is not curiosity, not lack 
 of breeding. It simply is that many of our people wish to see, to 
 behold some of the pageantry of place, of grandeur waiting upon 
 power, a lofty institution in exemplification. That is the setting of the 
 English throne, whereon no conquerer has sat for over nine hundred 
 years. The British monarchy is the oldest in the world. Who are we 
 to criticise and sneer so continuously at such a venerable institution? 
 Parties and politics cannot touch it. Always it remains serene and 
 infinitely dignified. Someone calls attention to the election by vote of 
 the head of any institution, a performance seething with bribery and 
 corruption, scrambling, quarreling, dissension, scandal, bitterness and 
 jealousy. Quite true. This hemisphere is familiar with them all, thank 
 you. We took our duds and left home, and our doing so didn't make 
 such a big hole in the fabric of the home-tent. It did result in another 
 home-tent and one quite big enough to require and justly deserve all 
 our attention. Just let us keep our own home-fires burning, stay at 
 home where we belong, leave off the criticising and sneering for others, 
 and soon we shall be the nicest neighbors in the world. Newspapers 
 and politics never in this world have made a friendly people friendlier, 
 nor a kindly people kinder. 
 
 Many of our enlightened, ambitious and able people desire to see 
 and meet splendid personalities at their best, to see rich life as it is 
 lived in the lands of our fathers. Hereditary place and exclusion spell 
 grandeur for some; while republican authority means simplicity to and 
 for all, just uncommon common people, that is to say. 
 
 The English, freest of all people, love their ceremonies. We have 
 none to love except our quadrennial Presidential grandiose inaugura- 
 tions. We have the Veiled Prophets in a delightful southern city, 
 
 143 
 
144 Our Own Lady 
 
 Mardigras in another farther down in the sunshine near to the radiant 
 Gulf, both like unto a Roman holiday; Indian festivals and sun dances 
 in some parts of the country, fairs, Wild West shows. Not of such 
 great cultural worth, though enlivening and good business. We have 
 reunions and great conventions in various places all over our nation. 
 In England every organization has occasion to go up to London for 
 their annual conventions nearly always held in May-time. We would 
 not be without these features, especially the "Prophets," Mardigras, 
 reunions and conventions. All are good. Of late there have come 
 along in time's slow course, in yet other parts in our milder slopes, the 
 glorious sunrise services, held in great bowls or amphitheatres on 
 Easter morning; the rose carnivals and flower parades otherwheres, 
 ideas borrowed from the battles of flowers along the Riviera. England 
 has all of these excepting the sun dances, as our Wild Wests go a-visit- 
 ing over there, as do some of our good Indians. But American Indians 
 have visited England since earliest Colonial days. 
 
 These entertainments do not satisfy everybody, especially people 
 of means whose circumstances and restlessness make for them the urge 
 to witness richer, older features and ceremonials, so they fare forth. 
 The only way to learn about the world and its possessions is to go 
 about and up and down in it. 
 
 The English are a royal race. They revere and crown their rulers, 
 take pride and heart of courage in them as being the highest and best 
 examples of a people; the royal family typifies English home life, the 
 ideal and the real, kingly, regal, noble, as lived in city, country, high- 
 lands; in palaces, castles and cottage, on ranches, in the bush, on ship- 
 board. Their crowns and thrones are symbols of law and country, rule 
 and order. 
 
 Some of their customs of hoary years, are quaint, rich in show of 
 life and color of other times, lovely many of them and good to look 
 upon. We have a few dear old customs to which we are loyal in a sort 
 of haphazard fashion, some of priceless tradition we love to observe 
 and treasure. A sad statement, nearly everyone of them commer- 
 cialized, exploited. 
 
 The English have the treasures, palaces and lordly settings, with 
 the manners, pride and dignity that become such possessions, and with 
 these, stated without any quibbling or any reservations whatever, they 
 are the politest people in the world. A visit to England and the Eng- 
 lish is a pleasurable personal gratification. Their politeness and hos- 
 pitality are heart-prompted, come from understanding. Often we 
 name the quality tact; they term it "muddling through." It is real 
 
Coronations — Crowds — Splendor 145 
 
 politeness, just the same. And how dearly they love all the tokens 
 that attach to place and quality. (No, this scribe is not a member of 
 the English Speaking Union.) 
 
 A little story is recalled of a cultured associate: He delighted a 
 group of friends with tales of his latest visit to the motherland. In 
 speaking, as if half-dreaming, striving to bring out the picture as he 
 had it in mind, which was, first, a leisurely bus trip, some walks in 
 country lanes lined by tenantry homes, with their spick-and-span and 
 smiling gardens, he mentioned a bus filled but not packed; then he 
 told of a conductor with a smile and "thank you" to each passenger 
 for his penny, and wondered how the man gets back to the step to help 
 each lady down, as he never fails to do; how on his return to the inn, 
 after utterly enjoying his placid afternoon, he declared to himself, 
 "I'm discouraged. Forty years I have labored to achieve a serenity 
 and politeness this busman and all his leisured fellows have acquired 
 as their heritage." 
 
 We have an elected ruler who is the head of our nation; his office 
 the keystone of his government, and undoubtedly he is the hardest 
 worked and most ceaselessly driven man on earth, representing as he 
 does many millions of human beings. He is called "Teddy," "Hard- 
 ing," "Wilson," "Cal," or just plain "Hoover," it makes not the slightest 
 difference in usage, as to place, power or distinction, in the public press, 
 in headlines, at the point of reporters' pencils, and by editors generally. 
 Not from habit is our chief executive called by his honorable name with 
 proper prefix, or mentioned by his great title as the President, or our 
 President, or President Hoover. The same "courtesy" exactly is observed 
 in their mention of public enemies, whether the ones of that gentry 
 named be of personality in porcine style or cut, missing digits, baby or 
 baboon style of face, a wearer of flashing jewels or concealed firearms. 
 The Chief Justice of the United States is dubbed "Taft" or "Hughes," 
 or any old way. Think of so slurring the Lord Chief Justice, or the Lord 
 High Chancellor of England! 
 
 On occasion one is mentioned as "Mr." in an editorial, which 
 politeness is so startling, so pleasing, that some reader has been joyed 
 into a manner of expression in his note of recognition and pleasure 
 at the innovation, that Vox Pop opened to publish his piece. Not so 
 pretty when attention is called to the common, if not rude, custom. 
 It is common. Just plain vulgarism, nothing else. Our politeness or 
 rather lack of it, and our headlines need cultivation. Our newspaper 
 press is popular, the people much given to emulation. Some show of 
 culture might easily be brought about, if still lacking certainly it 
 
146 Our Own Lady 
 
 would be better that we assume it. Whoever in the world has read 
 in an English newspaper the headline " George," or " Windsor," or 
 "Queen Vic," or of just plain "Victoria"? Nobody at all. It never 
 is in thought to so mention the representative of all their people, all 
 their far-flung lands. We have far-flung lands too, along with our 
 irreverent manner of speech, by which we term their vice-rulers or 
 governors-general as "Smith" or "Jones," or "Sam Patch." More of our 
 people should go abroad to live for a time, to study and to observe and 
 profit from doing so. But who am I to dare such advice or criticism re 
 a great country's people? Well, I receive a plenty of both from them. 
 
 In their reverence for their princes, their rulers the English reveal 
 their own quality and patriotism. "The Americans have no dignity," 
 has been heard from the lips of some fine and cultured Americans, 
 both at home and abroad, loyal ones, truthful and unafraid. You see? 
 
 The English love their display and splendor as do other countries 
 love their own. Humanity in mass is impressive; nothing else so much 
 so; add enthusiasm and it is powerful beyond all else to draw atten- 
 tion; couple on colors, music, motion and it is enthralling. Thus it 
 is the Britons revel in their parades and coronations, jubilees and 
 beacon-fires; pealing bells, house-fronts hung in purple and gold, 
 scarlet and blue; their lord-mayors' shows. How they do love royal 
 marriages and their processions and recessions. Unique are their lordly 
 processions to great sanctuaries for prayer and praise, to render thanks 
 for some holy grant, and pray to Almighty God for His goodness; we 
 likely are as godly at heart, but we are self-made. Their unrivalled 
 tributes to patriots, heroes, known and unknown, the quick and the 
 dead; trooping of the colors; reviews of soldiers and of ships and their 
 sailor men. They love their floral arches, flower canopies, floral crowns 
 high over plazas. How splendidly they welcome embassies and enjoy 
 their presentations; and how many fine and great ones visit them, 
 notables from every country in the world, and of every color. All these 
 great features owe to the people of all England, so it is they have them. 
 Let us not forget that no one knows England who only England knows. 
 It is business, it is patriotism, commerce in friendship and in refine- 
 ments. It is theatre for the people who pay for it all. Americans are so 
 matter of fact. Even so, we do love it all very much, else so many 
 of us would not go so far to enjoy the experience, to view it all. A 
 gay old world we do make of it indeed with our oddities and con- 
 trarities, our criticisms and jestings, and going to see. 
 
 And London! Equal to every demand, in itself the greatest of all 
 shows. The world's whispering gallery. Unique! Enviable! Its won- 
 drous streets, circuses, parks, churches, lanes; the slow-flowing, tre- 
 
Coronations — Crowds — Splendor 147 
 
 mendous Thames and its mighty bridges; Embankment, towers, all 
 enhanced in interest by monumental structures such as Parliament 
 Houses, immense administration buildings, numerous streets lined 
 with them; memorials, cathedrals, Abbey, banks, courts and temples. 
 Over and above all this enormity and much more of it than can be 
 mentioned in any work, the people, millions of them, much people, 
 good natured, merry, polite, rich and poor, workers and idlers, endur- 
 ing, patient, all out for to see and to enjoy, to laugh and make holi- 
 day. It is all theirs. The English are masters in ceremonial, mass and 
 color in formation and organization, which spell pageantry, beyond 
 any other people. 
 
 For the coronation of Queen Victoria, a romantic figure of eighteen 
 summers when she ascended the throne, nearly one hundred years ago, 
 for free theatres, fetes, entertainments for ambassadors and distin- 
 guished persons, furnished gratuitously by her majesty's command, 
 amounted to over $350,000, the fetes for the people lasting for some 
 days. It was considered money well spent by the nation. In addition, 
 the public actually paid about $1,000,000 for seats from which to view 
 the Queen's procession as it wended its way from the palace to the 
 Abbey. The occasion was worth every penny of it. Besides, what 
 would you? The people spent their own money just as we spend our 
 own money when we so wish, to see and for what we like. 
 
 For the coronation of King Edward VII, the writer of this screed, 
 and an accompanying friend, each paid fifty dollars for her seat, third 
 row, near the Abbey entrance, in the carpeted, decorated pavilion 
 erected along from St. Margaret's to the entrance; fine seats, so 
 fine and in such company, and with such privileges, that neither would 
 have considered one hundred dollars a seat at all extravagant. Two 
 average American women, and very far from being rich ones. 
 
 Nothing so splendid, so dignified or so colorful and orderly ever 
 has been staged in our beloved country, excepting only the impressive 
 parading troops down Pennsylvania avenue in Washington at the close 
 of the Civil War, and the returning soldiers in parade in magnificent 
 New York on coming home from the World War. It is so. We can't 
 make the picture, it is a truthful statement. 
 
 Sanded streets almost snow white, no vehicles nearer than four 
 blocks from the Abbey, Whitehall, Parliament Plaza. The enormous 
 space about the sombre Abbey and the great pavilion free of all but 
 foot service, was like a brilliant white-carpeted amphitheatre or vast 
 salon. Bright attire, rich robes and capes, scintillating jewels and 
 decorations, air of gaiety and frivolity, and yet a lovely, almost reli- 
 gious sincerity, made of it an enchanting scene to behold. We reached 
 
148 Our Own Lady 
 
 our seats early and so beheld the whole moving picture. There in the 
 great space threaded proud ladies and gentlemen in colors and orders, 
 mantles and trailing robes, jewels and plumes, many of the nobles 
 carrying their coronets on their arms, these to be placed on their heads 
 at the proper moment in the ceremony of coronation. These looked 
 at the first moment like great jeweled rings; fine persons and great 
 personages from everywhere wearing the richest raiment and most 
 splendid colors; all in nicest ease of manner seeking to enter to their 
 places for which they held cards. Only twelve or fourteen carriages 
 and equippages of state, with the monarchs and their families and 
 their attendants of honor approached the entrance; these exalted ones 
 descended immediately and the vehicles were driven away to await the 
 return to the palace hours later. 
 
 Soldiers in scarlet coats with flashing arms, stood shoulder to 
 shoulder for miles; beautiful horses bearing guards and lancers and 
 others; the on-coming and returning royalties in their equippages, 
 some of gold, others of glass; guards from the Tower in quaint coats 
 and their famous Beef-eaters' hats, looking like the quaint, old pic- 
 tures of an earlier period, all splendid to behold. In one plain car- 
 riage rode the young princes now so popular as men, the Prince of 
 Wales and the Duke of York, almost constantly with hands at salute. 
 And, don't be surprised by the statement, in a similar carriage rode 
 the two nurses in uniform, who had attended their King in utter devo- 
 tion during the terrible and long illness that preceded his coronation 
 and its ceremonies, delaying the event from June 26th, until August 
 2nd. The nurses were provided with fine seats in the Abbey, and 
 received tremendous applause all along the route, miles of it. A touch- 
 ing tribute in appreciation. Happy nurses. 
 
 There was in the place of honor, near the great State carriage drawn 
 by eight horses, an unforgettable group worth going far to see. To see 
 that illustrious triad of honor our people would tread bare all the lawns 
 and break down all the trees and fences in any city or anywhere else, 
 namely: The glorious Field Marshal, Earl Roberts, riding his white 
 Arab, in a uniform like none other, and on his front every order, medal, 
 ribbon and jewel he was entitled to, a kingly man, wearing a striking 
 Astrakhan head covering, white breeches, high boots, white gauntlets, 
 with baton in hand. At his right a little rearward, rode the imper- 
 turbable Kitchener of Khartoum, not yet in his earldom, grim, brown 
 rider and mount of same color, eyes forward, hat rim turned up and 
 fastened on one side; his horse, a beautiful, lithe thoroughbred, in 
 mien that of being accustomed to a field of cloth of gold. Bucephalus 
 
Coronations — Crowds — Splendor 149 
 
 could not have been more beautiful, certainly not so proud. At the 
 Field Marshal's left rode an East Indian prince wearing all white, 
 with jeweled turban, handsome beyond the handsomest of men in 
 feature and air of authority, also appearing kingly material, and he was 
 dark to distinction. Three utterly magnificent horsemen, two of them 
 of such enticing history and fame as would induce one to go far to 
 look upon them. Romance, history, fame. The far East come to meet 
 the mightiness of two other great continents, and there to mingle. It 
 was splendid. 
 
 The grand ceremony within the Abbey, requiring several hours, 
 ended, the King and Queen emerged in their robes and mantles of 
 state, jewels indescribable, and wearing their glorious crowns! 
 
 In that full moment the two American women out for to see, and 
 believe it they were seeing, were truly happy in their expenditure of 
 hard earnings, for they were less than sixty feet away from where the 
 invalid monarch, and a gallant one he was, handed his queen-consort 
 to her seat in the great carriage of state, her magnificent trailing mantle 
 being lifted around her by pages of the highest possible connections, 
 who performed the same for the King on his taking his seat. Then 
 they rode off palace-ward, cheered by maybe two millions of their 
 pleased and grateful subjects, ere reaching their famous home, riding 
 this time at the head of the splendid procession. 
 
 A fine experience, a full day for the travellers. 
 
 And this long diversion: Frankly it owes in part to resentment of 
 American newspapers' criticisms anent the presence of American 
 women at the English drawing-rooms in the present time as for some 
 years past; questioning their loyalty and patriotism, calling attention 
 to their knee-bending and curtsies, and insinuating the crashing of 
 palace gates to the embarrassment of over-worked American ambas- 
 sadors. Too, too bad, very disloyal, very shameful! Why will they so 
 criticise? Space writing? And some of the stuff some of their repre- 
 sentatives send to their home papers! 
 
 As criticisms most of them are sloppy, disjointed-like, and so many 
 of them reveal the writers as not too knowing. Some of them savage, 
 uncivil. They reflect equally on the English hosts as on our own 
 people. No whit of the cause for this scold attaches to the finished 
 writers, Messrs. Woods, Allen, Darrah, Wales or the great representa- 
 tives Mr. Edward Price Bell and Mr. John Steele, honored of all. 
 
 In the light of the scramble of our people at home, some of them 
 with great social pretensions along with their wealth, on the occasion 
 of a visit made among us, of some royal or imperial prince, consort, 
 
150 Our Own Lady 
 
 or of kings and queens from friendly nations, the writers of the messy 
 criticisms referred to, are terribly inconsistent. Nothing is said in the 
 newspapers about the lack of patriotism or of bad manners or crash- 
 ing of gates, in these unseemly scrambles. 
 
 This curtsey question was thrashed out and gushed over, when 
 President and Mrs. Wilson went to England in 1918-1919, some of 
 the silly twaddle appeared in great newspapers, self-estimated, as do 
 trashy stories of a few news writers, by some considered "smart." The 
 subject was not mentioned when their visits were made to the Roman 
 and Belgian courts, or any worry expressed as to how our President's 
 brilliant wife appeared at the Elysee Palace in Republican, cere- 
 monious and polite France. No, no, only was the "fear" that the proud 
 American knee might bend to England's King and Queen. Whatever 
 would have happened? Direful things most likely. War has flashed 
 for reasons as trifling! Mrs. Wilson, a cultured woman of the world, 
 is from a royal line, is distinguished for dignity, fine manners and tact. 
 
 The English sovereigns met our President and Mrs. Wilson at the 
 station, whence they drove in separate cars to the palace, the Presi- 
 dent with the King and Mrs. Wilson with the Queen, as do aris- 
 tocrats and the highly placed, on like occasions, everywhere. They 
 met as gentlemen and ladies ever meet, dignified, genial equals, rulers 
 embodying in their own persons individual responsibility, personal 
 quality. There was no knee-bending, simply hand-clasps and smiling 
 cordiality. President Wilson's father was an Englishman. 
 
 There is a pretty story, that when Queen Victoria's first son was 
 baptized at Windsor Castle, the King of Prussia was one of the spon- 
 sors for the tiny Prince of Wales-to-be, it appearing the royal babe 
 was baptized as prince and heir before he was designated Prince of 
 Wales. On his arrival at Windsor the old King was met at the foot 
 of the grand stairs by the young Queen, not at the top, please remark, 
 and after kissing the King on both cheeks, she curtsied profoundly. 
 If the act of "kneebending" had any meaning other than showing 
 veneration, respect, that proud young Queen of England had not 
 curtsied so profoundly, not even to the King of Prussia. 
 
 "Where'er he go, where'er he stray, 
 May heaven be his warden." 
 
 Our dazzling Lindbergh was invited to visit the kings of England 
 and Belgium, and did so, meeting many others of the highest stations 
 in both countries. Earlier he had met the President of exultant France 
 and other highly placed and proud Frenchmen. No one then men- 
 
Coronations — Crowds — Splendor 151 
 
 tioned knee-bending or gushed about crashing palace gates, or thought 
 he might be embarrassing an ambassador. The young man's presence 
 in his splendid embassy-home made one excellent ambassador about 
 the proudest and happiest man in all Europe, excepting only the 
 famous lad himself. Ambassador Herrick wrote for the world to read, 
 all about his exaltation during those interesting and never-to-be-for- 
 gotten days following the flight of the lone eagle from over the ocean. 
 
 In London during his call on King George, a door to the room where 
 they were chatting opened, and entered little Princess Elizabeth of 
 York, the King's granddaughter, in age between two and three years. 
 Princess Elizabeth may in time be Queen of England. A moment 
 later entered Queen Mary. A very homelike scene. Yet some men 
 of the press during those exhilarating Lindbergh days, indulged in 
 wonder and curiosity, and in some fear, as to how the American 
 youth would deport himself in the atmosphere of kings, queens, princes 
 and princesses, he who had flown the Atlantic alone! More silliness, 
 speculative twaddle. Lindbergh is a gentleman and to the manner 
 born. Blood will tell. Think of his handsome and sensible mother. 
 Is she not excellent? The Colonel took to wife an accomplished daugh- 
 ter of a distinguished ex-ambassador, a scholar and great traveller, 
 man of wealth, a United States Senator at this time. 
 
 "Lindbergh has accomplished something to set the imagination 
 ablaze." 
 
 Quite true. His demonstration convinced a world. Truly a flaming 
 youth. A very knowing and able youth, and we have others. It is 
 true. 
 
 A little after the lonely flight an Englishman was heard to remark: 
 "Oh, your American youth!" In his mind's picture were the immortal 
 "Lindy," "Bobby" and "Trudy." 
 
 Very American-like, ye scribe? And the English so dislike "pet 
 names" and diminutives, really baby-talk. 
 
 Yes, trail-blazers, our youth, and so are our American women. No 
 other women in the world are better known, none more admired for 
 pulchritude, many ingratiating qualities, or more greatly respected. 
 Among these is the subject of this story, wherein she will re-appear 
 presently, both Mrs. Baur and her daughter. It owes not a little to 
 their well-played parts that this diversion was made, wearisome as it 
 may be. To finish it the statement is due: All of our people who are 
 received at the English court are representatives of our country, but 
 very naturally not many are known to their majesties or their officials. 
 
 Facing this fact, how else in the world can these ladies, any of our 
 ladies attend a court, but through their senators or representatives in 
 
152 Our Own Lady 
 
 congress, or our ambassadors? It is by such recources that many of 
 our people are enabled to attend the presentations and receptions at 
 the White House, unless satisfied to take their chances along with 
 the numerous general public, who bow to the President at stated 
 intervals, such as on New Year's day. To be received by our President 
 and First Lady, one must make respectful request, must be given per- 
 mission by someone who functions exactly as does the English lord 
 chamberlain, secretary or other official. No, there is no gate-crashing 
 by American women at Buckingham Palace and none at the White 
 House. Why the worry? 
 
 Through social and other connections many of our people meet 
 royalties, nobles and gentry in many countries. It is fine experience, 
 enjoyable, a pleasant one to seek. Culture, dignity, quality, contacts 
 that manifest in a thousand ways for good, for advancement. Other- 
 wise of what use to educate, seek knowledge, to know the ways of the 
 world, if not to associate with the best, the most renowned and the 
 most highly placed in the world? 
 
 But there is one thing to be remembered by all, writers, speakers, 
 travellers or just plain gossips: These court presentations and intro- 
 ductions could not and cannot be accomplished, or allowed to take 
 place, no matter who the applicants, or by what channel they seek such 
 honors, unless the applicants are worthy, of good families, let not this 
 fact be forgotten. The same applies exactly to ambassadors them- 
 selves, and to ministers and others. Our President cannot send any 
 man to represent him and never for a moment wishes to do so, until 
 he first has learned through the proper medium, if his designate will 
 be acceptable to the other ruler. This applies as well to the family 
 of the ambassador, and is a law of all courts, held inviolate. Embassies 
 and their chancelleries, legations and consulates are places of great 
 files full of all kinds of information, else why are they? Why the large 
 personnel at work in the great foreign establishments in all civilized 
 lands? Foreign exchange, international postal unions, ship travel and 
 other necessities and activities do not comprise the only channels of 
 international amity, nor do association in politics or knowledge. They 
 all are of the highest value, of course. The world would indeed be 
 stagnant without them. 
 
 Although our story has grown over populous with its intimate digres- 
 sions and little essays, one is almost constrained to give a page about 
 Queen Mary, one of the most important women of today, not only 
 to adorn the story, but for those who would know more about the 
 splendid woman and queen might find a little of her story here in 
 
Coronations — Crowds — Splendor 153 
 
 connection with the career of one of our useful and widely known 
 women. But we will forego and return to our lines about the one whose 
 story has been asked for. Her contacts have been so numerous, so 
 varied with regard to people and places, that they would be rated 
 unusual, were she not an unusual woman; she is indeed very far from 
 standardization, a peril that threatens our culture. Descended from a 
 ruling class as we know, in her efforts self-prompted in the hope of 
 securing better things, for her place in the sun, she has herself become 
 of high class in her own country. She has a foremost place and many 
 privileges and deserves the fortune in wealth of means and of friend- 
 ships, which are hers, rewards for well-directed endeavors, coupled 
 with ambition and health. So it is mine to again affirm that Mrs. Baur 
 is equal in every particular to the requirements in those who aspire 
 to attend courts in England, continental Europe, or the courts in any 
 other parts of the world. She has deported herself virtuously, reared 
 her daughter becomingly. The curtsey to England's Queen was a 
 natural attainment in the face of the fact that so many of our people 
 enjoy the distinction, added the happy incident of General Dawes and 
 his wife, life-long friends of Miss Baur, making their entrance into the 
 highest social, official and political life of London and of all the 
 Britains, at that moment. It must follow, and it quite naturally will, 
 without any doubt, other honors and social niceties will come to Mrs. 
 Baur and her daughter, and a few of them, more than likely, by reason 
 of their association of years with General and Mrs. Dawes. Otherwise 
 of what use for friendships? 
 
 After the rich experiences at the English court, there followed for 
 both of these ladies in whom we are so deeply interested, several fine 
 affairs of pleasurable nature in their honor. In this category looms 
 one in particular deserving mention, the one of them all, given by Mrs. 
 Charles Harrington Chadwick, whose home of very great interest, is 
 situated on Lake Shore Drive, Chicago. On the occasion, her suite in 
 the Savoy on the famous Embankment was filled with well-known 
 Chicagoans and other friends, in the joy of reunion, to dine in that 
 interesting salon, overlooking an English garden radiant with bloom. 
 From the windows and balconies the scene was of the ever-changing, 
 historic and tremendous Thames; their music "to hear its mighty 
 waters rolling evermore." Romance, poetry, history, art, all within the 
 enchanting view. There it is in the course of time one sees glow and 
 ripple of water, sometimes in reflection, sometimes through wondrous 
 haze never yet caught by artist brush; the river in its mysterious 
 moods as by tides and winds, and under gloom and fog it rolls on down 
 
154 Our Own Lady 
 
 to old ocean. A happy assembly, and rare entertainment was afforded 
 by the fair Chicagoan for her interested guests in her old world set- 
 ting at once made her own. 
 
 For Miss Baur it would seem there had arrived the place and time 
 for life's gaieties, the dance and song, visits with congenials; seeing 
 wonderful things and going places at one's leisure, this young lady 
 always so sheltered, carefully guarded and directed. The sweet season 
 in London was over; the memorable year for her, Nineteen Hundred 
 Twenty-nine, was speeding. It had all been splendid. Her next per- 
 sonal venture would be her debut before the consequential world of her 
 native city, likely in November in the same glorious year of her 
 majority. A year of happenings, proud happenings, too. 
 
 Imagine! At the moment, instead, she was alive with interest and 
 zest for the summer's affairs, so promising in achievement; and soon 
 mother and daughter were off for Soviet Russia, the land of such vast- 
 ness in extent, with problems so extraordinary, problems of a govern- 
 ment not yet twelve years old. Yes, Russia, mysterious land of the 
 czars and the muzhiks, of the knout and vodka, its semi-barbarianism 
 in parts, and past-time Nihilism; its people of all kinds, conditions of 
 all sorts; Russia where prevails now, and always has prevailed, misery, 
 "uniformity of misery and poverty"; where are hunger, longing, 
 worry, unhappiness, as in all lands, in all times. These have attended 
 that unhappy people since long ago. Only the few of her millions of 
 humans ever have known plenty, or grandeur or culture for them- 
 selves, theirs to enjoy, and none happiness. Russia of the snows, of 
 blood and trials; of revolutions and cruelty, many religions, and with 
 resources unestimated; possessions almost limitless, yet always 
 unhappy Russia. They are a brave people, as are all people of long- 
 suffering, for always the coward seeks the grave, the brave live on. 
 They will face the East, they will rise, will blend and become one grand 
 nation of brothers of men acclaimed by the world. 
 
 Mrs. Baur was one of the delegates sent by her country to share 
 its representation in the fifth congress of the International Chambers 
 of Commerce, in a six days' session in Amsterdam, Holland, convening 
 on July 8th, 1929. She had been a delegate to the third one, in Brus- 
 sels in 1925, and to the fourth one in Stockholm, 1927. 
 
 In the latest one were fourteen hundred delegates, representing 
 almost every country, numbering among them many of the ablest men 
 in the field of international trade, commerce and finance, including 
 about one hundred and fifty members from the United States. Mrs. 
 Baur was the only woman delegate in the Amsterdam congress. 
 Glorious privilege hers again, as always and always. She takes oppor- 
 
Coronations — Crowds — Splendor 155 
 
 tunity as the swimmer takes the waves, everyone facing her. To her 
 the "divinity that shapes our ends" is in ourselves. Bertha Baur is 
 imbued with that belief; that it is not in our stars that we are under- 
 lings, but in ourselves. 
 
 And so after London and Amsterdam, where four or five weeks had 
 been spent, mother and daughter arrived in Berlin. It was from the 
 German capital the members of a party of about one hundred busi- 
 ness men and women started as excursionist-guests, for a tour of Euro- 
 pean Russia; the party consisted of the members of the American 
 Chamber of Commerce, their invitations from the Russian govern- 
 ment, travelling de luxe. Needless to state that these men and women 
 were of the influential class, all with vast interests, and that they went 
 forth with open minds and in friendly spirits. It could not be other- 
 wise. They traversed something over seven thousand miles in Russia 
 and had five weeks in time for their excursion for seeing and learning. 
 
 Before departure on the great adventure, Mrs. Baur and daughter 
 called at the Russian embassy in Berlin, in compliment of respect, and 
 to learn if they might carry with them on the excursion their moving 
 picture camera. They were permitted to do so, excepting picturing of 
 bridges, barracks and prisons. 
 
 On signing her acceptance of the invitation to make the tour, so 
 carefully arranged for in all its details, Mrs. Baur wrote "B. D. 
 Baur." When those in charge of the enterprise discovered the signer to 
 be a woman they at once admitted twenty-four more women into the 
 party, a pleasurable gesture, and a mutual one, indeed; and for the 
 American women another feather for the bonnet, or cloche or what have 
 you, if you please, for their unfailing advance. American women have a 
 manner all their own for getting in the way of opportunity, if it is not 
 of their making, as Napoleon and Franklin declared they made oppor- 
 tunity if none ready-made were met. 
 
 Mrs. Baur's crest should bear the motto, "Droit et avant." 
 
 Out of Russia, the travellers of this story again visited in Berlin, 
 thence to Paris, the rendezvous of all good travellers, that is to say, 
 knowing ones; to Deauville, Vichy, and other favorite places of inter- 
 est, fashion and cures. Then, at the end of seventeen weeks of pleasure, 
 honors, learning, change and rest, they arrived home. 
 
 Fortunate Rosemary Baur. One wonders what her star, the name of 
 the fairy in attendance at her birth, which of the fates has in keeping 
 her destiny? 
 
 Miss Jane Breed a young debutante of New York, was the only 
 other young lady on the excursion into Russia. 
 
Seeing Russia, — The Volga Boat 
 
 XIX 
 
 A day or so after Mrs. Baur's return home, in early October, the 
 board of directors of the Woman's National Republican Club of Chi- 
 cago gave in her honor a fine luncheon, held at the Woman's club, the 
 new club house, to welcome their president from her summer of tour- 
 ing and rich experiences. But few happier affairs have been carried 
 out, and be it known the Woman's club has had happy occasions, one 
 following another for long years, in its old quarters so loved by many 
 and lately given up for its fine new home, and since the late "house- 
 warming." After the luncheon, the president spoke at some length of 
 time, from the stage of the club's theater, to a capacity audience, on 
 the subject of her recent tour through Russia. The afternoon was a 
 memorable one for all present. 
 
 A fortnight later a dinner was given at the Palmer House in Mrs. 
 Baur's honor, by the Chicago Society for Cultural Relations with Rus- 
 sia. Thereat she spoke on the same engaging subject, relating much 
 about her five weeks' experiences in the vast and wondrous land. 
 
 From her notes and impressions pronounced at these two gather- 
 ings of her fellow citizens, were culled a few paragraphs with which to 
 decorate this small history. It would be happiness to give several pages 
 to her excellent story, were it possible to do so. 
 
 Prelude: On her departure for the summer she clearly stated that 
 she had no thought that the trip de luxe, such as formerly was a 
 necessity for travelling Russian princes, grand dukes and some lesser 
 humans, to be accomplished in five weeks, would give one a deep 
 insight into the mysterious land, and the affairs of its people. But 
 she expected certainly to glean generally accurate impressions by 
 exercising powers of observation, and by asking for information of 
 both great and humble; surely these glimpses would prove of value 
 in the future. They would be valuable too, she hoped, as being the 
 impressions of open-minded, intelligent persons, without prejudice or 
 bias. Mrs. Baur felt they would find prodigious interest, even in face 
 of the language difficulties, lack of knowledge of racial character, and 
 of traditions and peculiarities characteristic of so vast and various a 
 people. 
 
 156 
 
Seeing Russia, — The Volga Boat 157 
 
 So it came about that at her welcome-home luncheon to our Presi- 
 dent, she was able to allow the members to see through her eyes and 
 understanding something of the present-time Soviet Russia and their 
 communistic experiment, expressions without flattery and without 
 malice. It appeared that tourists are rather freely admitted since 
 some time past. She touched lightly on the sadly lacking hotels, the 
 finest among them being comparatively poor, as might be expected; 
 she was in only five on the tour; spoke with zest of the children, 
 healthy and bright and of seeing no wild children in Russia; she 
 found the children valued highly, and that there is no child-labor 
 problem, as there is no sex problem. Everywhere she found women 
 doing all sorts of work, and all the people seeming hungry for learn- 
 ing. Immediately we see, Bertha Baur grasps the situation in all its 
 significance and enormity. 
 
 Hungry for learning! Quite so. Theirs that deprivation since their 
 beginning somewhere in a far time. May their hunger for light and 
 learning be for them "Time's burst of dawn." It surely will be so. 
 "That we seek is in our souls." 
 
 She seemed to think there was food for all, but no variety she 
 stated, and she found everyone working. Drabness prevails every- 
 where, however hard and devotedly the people work, and shabbiness 
 in clothing shows how little money there is among them. Even so, 
 she declared one notices the faces of all as being alight with their 
 ideals, eagerness and hope, as one notices that the world is beginning 
 to better understand Soviet Russia; for all agree that it is extraordi- 
 narily interesting, and that it is making progress. 
 
 We were told that engineers are looked upon as being — well almost 
 gods, especially the American engineers. These clear-thinking men 
 see deeply into things, some of them seemingly far into the future, and 
 seek to teach their Russian friends and employers to build new plants 
 and industries, and to farm intensely. The keen features of these men 
 of marked sensibilities, who are so helpful and so knowing, and who 
 are found almost everywhere, afford inspiration. To Mrs. Baur it 
 seemed that everybody in Russia feels that it is America's industries 
 and not her agriculture that have made the country's great wealth. 
 They seek to copy us as much as possible in everything they under- 
 take. She emphasized the point to which the Russians carry the ques- 
 tion of equalization, not equality, please note, as being a strikingly tell- 
 ing one, inasmuch as everybody is equally poor. (She did not remark a 
 statement made at about that time by one of the Russian grand dukes 
 in Paris, that the only thing gained by the Russians in their revolt was, 
 "for them all, everywhere, the right to be poor.") There should have 
 
158 Our Own Lady 
 
 been at his elbow one to add the pregnant statement about at that 
 same moment being penned by one of his close relatives: "In the 
 dull eyes of peasants I see reflected our own callousness and age-long 
 neglect." 
 
 Even so, everyone claims, and one can without strain accept the 
 belief, that conditions have improved during the past few years, and 
 the future does loom a little more promising. 
 
 An arresting statement was: The government owns most of the 
 buildings in Russia, big buildings, good ones, to all of which posses- 
 sions is attached a red star, signifying government ownership. In the 
 center of this red star is the insignia: a hammer to symbolize industry, 
 and a sickle to represent agriculture. One sees red stars all over the 
 country. 
 
 The women in Russia are just as important as the men, providing 
 they can prove their mental equality in any task and, of course, physi- 
 cal endurance. 
 
 She declared that it is idle for anyone to give impressions as to 
 the success or failure of the great Russian experiment, for whether or 
 not it works out satisfactorily, it is unquestionably the present-time 
 Russian people's high hope; she feels their belief is that with educa- 
 tion and engineers they will get their wants, even though they have 
 so little money. But they will require a long time at their rate of 
 progress, say we. 
 
 One gathered from her lectures that the desire for education which 
 of course they will acquire, will bring the people's dawn; Russia will 
 become proud when she is more knowing, then will follow wisdom and 
 tranquility. Very certainly that time is not yet for Russia. It will 
 come. 
 
 The museums everywhere were found crowded, and what wonder! 
 Consider the fact of their riches; that the storerooms, basements of 
 museum-buildings, of palaces and castles alike, contain untold even 
 unknown values in historic treasures, besides. It will be long ere the 
 world beholds all of these. That all the people may have the oppor- 
 tunity to enjoy some of the beauty, riches in treasures in museums, all 
 are now open daily instead of only once a month as formerly, — and a 
 people ahunger for learning. Surely their dawn awaits them. 
 
 Thus the people may study and enjoy, and the children grow up 
 with some thought of beauty. Thirty-eight of the most famous of 
 Rembrandt's paintings are still owned by the Soviets, and are treas- 
 ured in Leningrad's overwhelming galleries. These galleries and their 
 inestimable collections and other treasures, in jewels, for instance the 
 jewels estimated in millions, the crown jewels by themselves being 
 
Seeing Russia, — The Volga Boat 159 
 
 valued at $26,000,000, and architecture are living and speaking sym- 
 bols of the powerful, wealthy, grasping, tasteful and ambitious regime 
 of other Russians for a long time back. They had scant regard, if 
 any at all, for the unlearned and untaught masses about them, those 
 millions who toiled and hungered, suffered and yearned for betterment, 
 for whose soul-welfare they had no time for thought. But maybe it 
 was hopeless from the first; the vast numbers of the ignorant and 
 unteachable; too great even though always and always there were 
 a few of the mighty nobles and autocratic with heartfelt consideration 
 for the lower classes so vast in their numbers. And yet, behold that 
 which follows in the train of time and change. 
 
 Mysterious Russia. Untold riches, unfathomable ignorance! 
 
 The lecturer declared the most striking, most startling of all scenes 
 to be looked upon are those of the Romanoffs' private palace not far 
 away, at Tsarskoie-Selo. There one sees the rooms of the late Czar 
 Nicholas and the Czarine Alexandria and of their children, exactly as 
 they left them. There hang dresses as if to be used at once; children's 
 toys are lying about, and in the Czarina's room there hang on her 
 walls the famous forty-two ikons, images, pictures, she so treasured; 
 all, everything, absolutely untouched since the passing, for the last 
 time of their private portals, by the illustrious rulers and their help- 
 less, beautiful children, and so beautiful. 
 
 The visits in Moscow, Leningrad, the Tartar republic in the South- 
 ern mountains, the newly growing industrial districts, all were sur- 
 passed by the interest, lure and restfulness of the four-day trip on 
 a Volga boat on the famous river, and her farthest East. Mrs. Baur 
 feels it was there without any doubt, that the song "The Volga Boat- 
 man," originated. She declared that trip the most restful and truly 
 wonderful, the most nearly satisfying, and nearest to absolute per- 
 fection, that she ever has known. Bertha Baur has had many trips, 
 and travelled very far, as we know. For absolute rest and repose, 
 quiet, and freedom from care, she recommends a boat trip on the 
 Volga River. 
 
 Ah, those leisurely Russians, their slow boats, and the slow-mov- 
 ing current, just as if drifting, drifting on the noble stream. But not 
 one of the boatmen could be induced to sing the Volga Boat Song 
 Whether it reminds them of the awful days under the tzars, or what 
 you will, they appeared very much put out by the requests made of 
 them to sing it. 
 
 One recalls the great Chaliapin and his encore, Volga Boat Song. 
 But in Russia, in the East on the mighty Volga river and none to 
 sing "The Volga Boatman!" So it is that nowhere does one ever hear 
 
160 Our Own Lady 
 
 that haunting music and swaying, lilting poetry. One is left the 
 memory only of the volume, vigor, the magic of Russian music, the 
 depths of sympathy and height of sincerity in their song. While drift- 
 ing along on the Volga slow boat, just drifting and resting and enjoy- 
 ing, one learns that the cities and towns situated on the right side of 
 the river bear feminine names, and those on the left are named for the 
 masculine persuasion. A strange fancy. The black caviar that we 
 mostly use is the pickled, while the fresh and of course finest in quality, 
 not to be had so far away as Chicago, is pink in color. 
 
 "Russia! Chains you have striven so long to break, but slave or 
 free you will always hold part of my heart, for from your blood-stained, 
 scarred and martyred-soil, I too have picked up a torch." 
 
 All will recall that apostrophe. 
 
Home: Daughter's Debut 
 
 XX. 
 
 Home again, in the sweet precincts to which she is always happy to 
 return, and the old routine resumed. Wonderful to contemplate, to 
 muse upon, the life of action, color, variety, interest, change, far-flung 
 glow and radiance, splendor of places and personages and might of 
 circumstance, this great outing of our subject. These all make utterly 
 remarkable the very grand and memorable summer of 1929, of almost 
 five full, happy months. 
 
 Fortunate, endowed Bertha Baur. Hers a story worthy of being 
 asked for. Yet a blase, uppity miss, surfeited with money and vanity 
 knowing not gratitude or filial regard, declares the story silly. Remem- 
 ber the silly geese that cackled and saved Rome, that mausoleum of 
 nations? If this story is silly it lies in the manner of telling; lack of 
 fitness for the work of the teller of tales was foreseen, with apology 
 duly made at the beginning. 
 
 The remaining three weeks of October and the first three of Novem- 
 ber were full and exacting ones for the devoted mother. Her labors 
 and accomplishments were prodigious, and performed with the pre- 
 cision, nicety and absence of bluster, for which she is noted. 
 
 On November eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth, Mrs. Baur and 
 her daughter received their friends in manner of fine taste and hos- 
 pitality. Miss Baur was of legal age, and the mother would introduce 
 her to the world and to Chicago. For long her child's native city had 
 entertained a lively interest in its best known juvenile, its most noted 
 young miss, now become a distinguished heiress. Always has the city 
 wondered will the daughter's career equal in interest that of the 
 mother's? 
 
 Wealth in every sense has contributed to enrich her life, love, care, 
 consideration, time, ease, home, friends, parent and money. At twenty 
 she has seen nearly half the world, and many of the highest in place 
 and distinction. She knows how the beautiful life is lived; does she 
 know the strenuous side, how live those who have none of the posses- 
 sions that are hers? It is doubtful, for she does not love the poor, 
 and regards too much time given to others as being lost, of no use. 
 In what does she excel? Is she scholarly, does she know languages 
 
 161 
 
162 Our Own Lady 
 
 and their literature? Is she musical, a proficient pianist, harpist, vio- 
 linist? Does she compose, can she write or converse? Does she 
 paint, draw or model? Does she dance, entertain well, ride, drive or 
 fly? Does she hunt and shoot, skii, row or sail? Play tennis, golf or 
 skate? Is she an architect, a gardener or landscapist? Has she any 
 history other than the daughter of her mother? What has she given 
 to the world; what has she to give? Family, culture, taste, position, 
 amiability? Any of these or only money? The answer lies not with 
 me. There is potentiality. Only time will tell; the hope is: "May 
 it be the sweet presence of a good diffused." 
 
 This daughter would enjoy meeting the world that knows her mother's 
 door, and making her bow to Chicago. So it all was beautifully 
 arranged, and the consummation left nothing to be desired. 
 
 Their cards read: 
 
 Mrs. Jacob Baur 
 
 Miss Rosemary Baur 
 
 At Home 
 
 Wednesday, November 20th 
 
 1511 Astor Street 
 
 Could anything be simpler? 
 
 Their home for the occasion was enchanting. Great awnings and 
 rich carpets reaching to the curb, were noticeable, along with the 
 gleaming houselights as if meant to beam joy and warmth and cheer 
 far out over the quiet environments. The quaint old street so politely 
 exclusive, beautifully decorus, was inviting. Mounted police to direct 
 and control traffic in the narrow thoroughfare, lent an air of enjoyable 
 security. This appropriate official authority was rightfully invoked 
 by the woman who of all in our city, values order and safety, and who 
 is without a protector. At the entrances were uniformed officers; 
 within on landings and mingling with the throngs were several watchful, 
 keen-eyed men of distinguished appearance, with the authority and 
 undoubted ability to guard these otherwise unprotected ladies and their 
 army of friends and guests, from acts or indignities by undesirables. 
 There are undesirables in every community, and frequently they are 
 encountered at such notable assemblies, many of less note, not only 
 in Chicago, but in New York, London, Paris. 
 
 There were vast quantities of flowers, great gorgeous blooms breath- 
 ing the sweetest odors in entrance halls, winding the stair rails, every- 
 where. In the drawing-room they were arranged about the walls on 
 tables, in tall baskets, in great vases, no cluttering anywhere. Ornate 
 clusters of wall lamps, others scattered throughout the main floors, 
 afforded perfect irridiation. 
 
Home: Daughter's Debut 
 
 163 
 
 Photo by Koehne, Chicago. 
 
 A drawing-room portrait of Miss Rosemary Baur and her mother, posing before the great 
 Blackstone painting of her father, November 18, 1929 
 
164 Our Own Lady 
 
 In the library were regal white roses, ferns and smilax; of marked 
 interest was the fine portrait bust of Mr. Baur on the mantel and 
 near it a portrait of Madame von Fuhr-Duppler, Bertha's beautiful 
 mother. Near these a recent portrait of Mrs. Baur by the Baroness 
 Violet Beatrice Wenner, appearing almost the actual hostess "in per- 
 son," so life-like is the work. On many small bouquets and nose-gays 
 lying here and there, were pretty butterflies suitable in size and mater- 
 ials of course, for all the world "atilt like blossoms among the leaves." 
 
 The dining room and the fountain room opening therefrom, were 
 arranged in such fashion as to suggest at first glance, a tropical garden. 
 Thus among tall palms and blossoming trees, were served refresh- 
 ments in great variety and particular excellence. 
 
 In these surroundings, the mother and daughter spent three glorious 
 afternoons in tribute to custom, courtesy and friendship, in greeting 
 and receiving greetings of nearly three thousand guests. 
 
 While receiving the twain stood before or beneath an arch of roses 
 placed between the drawing-room windows, thus appearing in the mid- 
 dle of the room facing hallways and entrances. The presentation as 
 a picture, a moving one of colors and sociable animation, was becom- 
 ing in every respect to the two women of the world who serenely domi- 
 nated the scene, in manner of leisurely elegance. 
 
 For the purpose of avoiding crushing and discomfort, the guests 
 were invited from lists of names alphabetically arranged, about eight 
 initials affording a day's quota, so to speak, about a third of the ladies' 
 calling and club lists. This fact with other well-thought-out arrange- 
 ments so perfectly executed, made of the occasion one of enjoyment to 
 all who attended. 
 
 For her presentation in her mother's home, the debutante, in face 
 and person as well as otherwise so handsomely endowed, appeared 
 wearing the pale green costume in which she was introduced to Queen 
 Mary at the English court in late June preceding. Hers a personality 
 in which one reads pride of place and traits that denote the woman 
 of the world, one fitted for every environment, and to acquit herself 
 becomingly. She is very modest and retiring in disposition, very exclu- 
 sive. She likes people and the world enough, but not as her mother 
 likes them. 
 
 A month later Mrs. Baur gave a ball for the youth of their acquaint- 
 ance, about seven hundred guests greeting them. This took place in 
 the crystal ballroom of the Blackstone hotel, notable as the scene of 
 so many debut parties given by Chicago's elite. While receiving, they 
 stood before a screen of smilax, flanked by tall bowls of roses. The 
 young lady was wearing a white tulle costume embroidered in silver, 
 
Home: Daughter's Debut 165 
 
 the mother appearing in black tulle and silver, with corsage of orchids 
 and lilies-of-the-valley, her favorite flowers. The ballroom was decor- 
 ated and festooned in blue and yellow tarlton, thousands of yards being 
 used, blue being Mrs. Baur's favorite color. For the midnight supper 
 the tables were decorated with pink roses. When the decorations were 
 taken down the tarlton was sent in donation to the White Elephant 
 rummage shop, whose till must have known a good many replenish- 
 ments from its sale to clubs and party-givers during the following 
 season, by whom decorations of the better qualities are so often 
 required, especially in those two popular colors. 
 
Bowing to England's Queen 
 
 XXI 
 
 Chaque homme a deux patries, la sienne et la France. 
 
 — Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 While writing the closing paragraphs in the above sketch about the 
 debut parties, there came the message, "Mrs. Baur will be presented 
 at the English court in about two or three weeks; date not yet fixed." 
 
 A thrill of pleasure, a little excitement as must needs attend in such 
 happy circumstance. It all was lovely, everything exactly as it should 
 be, this rounding of a brilliant career of a deserving woman. 
 
 In the moment of reaction to the fine message, came first, the politi- 
 cal side of it all, the speculative news writers' pieces, editorials about 
 Committeewoman Baur from Illinois, how she will be voting soon; 
 quips about the influence the English foreign office likely will assert 
 when the time comes for naming an American presidential candidate 
 in 1932; American ambassadors overworked by their efforts to prevent 
 gate crashing at English royal palaces. Dreadful things sure to hap- 
 pen when that storm breaks. Certainly some dire calamity will attend 
 that rather far-off national Republican convention. There really is 
 no reason for walking in circles, at this moment. Of course as to 
 what city will get that convention, Mrs. Baur will have a vote; another 
 on the temporary roll-call on seating contesting delegates, and of most 
 honor, for the temporary chairman for the convention. The mind was 
 too excited to think of the other important affairs attaching to a con- 
 vention. But this truth shone out of the murk of thoughts a little 
 jumbled: Bertha Baur's part in all these intriguing matters will very 
 certainly be the right part, to which she will have given careful con- 
 sideration in every particular. And so we rested from our labors then 
 and there. 
 
 In a few days, as if fortune meant to lighten the burden of con- 
 sideration about the story's ending; what more of moment it should 
 or would include in relation to the heroine's activities, political, social, 
 domestic and so on, in view of the interesting presentation soon to take 
 place, there came a diminutive bit of blue parchment. It was a note 
 bearing the further pleasurable news that the court dress, the subject 
 
 166 
 
Bowing to England's Queen 167 
 
 about which women interested in high social matters, always are so 
 eager to know, would have a "trying on." The place named was 
 Madame Marguerite's establishment on Rush street. Would the story- 
 teller be present? Ah! Madame Marguerite originates and turns out 
 Mrs. Baur's gowns, suits, wraps, and all so beautifully done and per- 
 fectly becoming. My good angel flew homeward that time! 
 
 Promptly on the moment named for the trying on, the writer so 
 much favored, appeared on the scene, and for a short few moments 
 reveled in the display all about of magnificence that appertains to 
 women who can have magnificence. All at once an indescribable 
 evening costume in Lanvin green was displayed, a chic travelling suit 
 and blouse, then a rich wrap in transparent black velvet lined with 
 rare white satin. These were Mrs. Baur's, the wrap for wear on the 
 evening of presentation. It was a moment of joying in richness in 
 fabrics, of color — a portiere slowly was pushed back, and behold! There 
 on the whitest canvas, before a great mirror stood Bertha Baur in her 
 lovely court dress and train, with superb fan of long white ostrich 
 plumes, beautiful pearls, wearing pink satin slippers with jeweled 
 heels. Her curtsey made to her few privileged visiting friends, was 
 perfect, and by them all (as by that moment Madame Marguerite 
 and several of the artists on her staff were present), a real presenta- 
 tion was enjoyed. She is a fine actress and carried off the little practice 
 in grand style. It was beautiful, and of the quality for picture making, 
 but the mood was lacking that would produce the poise and composure 
 that in quieter moments would furnish the elegance, finish, that a great 
 picture must reveal. The "trying on" rehearsal took place in Chicago, 
 the presentation picture in grand toilet, was a finished work by a 
 London photographer, and is superb. 
 
 During the trying on party it was mentioned that the making of 
 a court costume in Chicago was unusual news, as with most people 
 it is presumable that all such garments must of needs be from London 
 or Paris courturieres. All at the party joyed in Mrs. Baur's loyalty 
 and example and congratulated Madame, the very satisfied head of 
 the fine establishment. 
 
 The court costume, a real robe of state, is of Patou pink in material 
 known as Elizabeth crepe, is in straight lines and in length almost to 
 the floor. Court train fitted at the shoulder and in a V back is of 
 duchess satin of the same enticing shade, with butterflies embroidered 
 in the weave. The pattern was made on Mrs. Baur's personal order, 
 in Lyons, the French city of unrivalled looms and wondrous fabrics, 
 of art and archaeology, a little while before the World War. The but- 
 terflies graduate in size from the hem to very small ones near the 
 
168 Our Own Lady 
 
 shoulder. So it was given a few fortunate ones to know almost exactly 
 the appearance of their townswoman, on the evening of May 28th, 
 1930, when introduced to England's Queen by Mrs. Dawes. 
 
 On that occasion the Queen was escorted to the throne by her third 
 son, the Duke of Gloucester. Owing to illness the King was unable 
 to be present, and the Prince of Wales was absent from the capital. 
 It is a grave disappointment to record that on both occasions, that 
 of the year previous when the daughter appeared at court, and on 
 Mrs. Baur's presentation, illness prevented the presence of the King 
 at his court. 
 
 The gracious Queen Mary was wearing pearl gray and silver, and 
 many jewels. 
 
 Though Mrs. Baur has enjoyed many distinctions, and whose posi- 
 tion is enviable, it must have been a crowning experience for her to 
 meet the Queen of England. To the world, that presentation is a 
 marked source of rise in social prominence, not necessarily in this 
 country, but assuredly so in Europe, whether we approve of it or not. 
 
 In course of time she may take up the unfinished tour of the world 
 as planned by Mr. Baur for their honeymoon. Should she journey off 
 on the grand circle, it is conceivable that likely happy meetings with 
 the foremost in nations will be hers, for she enjoys, dearly loves brilliant 
 social life, the meeting with the world's best people in times and in 
 places and in manner set for the pretty affairs of life. Also she derives 
 great satisfaction in meeting men and women in the commercial and 
 political world in the countries wherein she travels. Many of these 
 she has met at the international conventions which she has had the 
 fine fortune to attend. Some of the highest she has entertained in 
 her home, when on occasion a few of these have at intervals visited 
 in our country. This experience has been hers both in Washington and 
 in her home city. She is a lady with great capacity for enjoyment 
 and for being friendly. 
 
 After some days in London, following her presentation at court, she 
 was joined by her daughter, who sailed from homeland several days 
 later than the mother. Soon they journeyed to the Riviera, where 
 arrangements had been made securing for them a summer home, an 
 enchanting domicile in which they would have the company of a 
 Chicago intimate. Then a few days later they went to Genoa, Italy, 
 to meet that friend, Mrs. Chadwick, who had sailed by a southern 
 course for the world- famed port; the trio motoring back along the 
 Riviera to Cap d'Antibes, France, where is situated Lord Abercon- 
 way's famous show-place estate. This comprises the Chateau de la 
 Garoupe, theirs for the summer. Fortunate Chicago trio, enviable 
 
Bowing to England's Queen 169 
 
 among women. The chateau is high in situation and the view is 
 magnificent. Olive groves abound, and in alluring gardens bloom 
 oceans of flowers. Features of the chateau are fine salons, a stately 
 hall, enviable old Italian furniture and rare mantels. A pillared loggia, 
 always in Italian home plans, is doubly attractive as there open onto 
 it several sleeping rooms, and because frequently one can see from it 
 the Italian frontier. Then let us consider the fine views of the nearer 
 region so favored by every beauty of landscape dotted over with many 
 attractive villages and estates. 
 
 And so it happens that it is in la belle France, by the beloved 
 Mediterranean, whose slopes and shores were considered the world, 
 in that far time when Genoa, Barcelona and Venice were rivals, that 
 we enjoy picturing the untiring and discriminating traveller, the unusual 
 woman of this story. The wish for her is repose. Certainly it is an 
 adorable home-place, and lovely change, and of course she is interested 
 in all about her, as well as far afield. There one attends fetes of many 
 kinds and from there sometimes journeys to England for house parties, 
 and such also in France. The Passion Play a not too far away attrac- 
 tion; cherished friends of the years, as well as new ones to be enter- 
 tained in the interesting French home. After weeks of idling, enjoying, 
 resting, change, seeing, meeting the world and learning, then to turn 
 homeward, Mrs. Baur, zestful as always returning to her own home, 
 of them all the one dearest to her, her very own retreat. On reaching 
 homeland, the daughter's plans took her directly to her school in the 
 East there to resume her studies and classes and carry on until Christ- 
 mas, at which time she would visit her mother at their home in Chicago. 
 The visit divided in half her last semester, which terminated at Easter 
 time, 1931. 
 
 On her twentieth birthday anniversary, Miss Baur's betrothal, one 
 of much interest in her native Chicago, was formally announced by 
 her noted mother. 
 
 Usually on her return from Europe as the years pass, Mrs. Baur 
 finds ready at hand some particular affair of moment, awaiting her 
 attention. The homecoming in this year 1931, with which ends this 
 story, presents no exception. Miss Rosemary Baur's marriage to Mr. 
 Bartle Bull, a Canadian-American, is to be celebrated on November 
 7th in St. Chrysostom's Episcopal Church, Chicago. 
 
 Mr. Bull is a son of William Perkins Bull, K. C, and Mrs. Bull, 
 of 2 Eaton Place, London, and of Lome Hall, Rosedale, Toronto, in 
 our neighbor-nation on the north. He studied at Oxford, his colleges 
 being Magdalen and Eton, and is a barrister of the Inner Temple, 
 London. His family is an old one, well circumstanced and widely 
 
170 Our Own Lady 
 
 known, and if not among the wealthiest, is of highest respectability and 
 splendid connections. Mr. Bull, who is about six years older than his 
 promised bride, was in Chicago for a fortnight's stay. While in attend- 
 ance at a concert in his hotel he met Miss Baur. 
 
 The place of their meeting is rich in everything that makes for 
 human comfort and interest, everything that money will pay for, art 
 can devise. In the sumptuous setting theirs a meeting as a flash that 
 binds the soul by a smile. No other influence, unless it may be sym- 
 pathy which is a prompting of love, can draw the heart into the full- 
 ness of love as quick as music and song; love was their instant posses- 
 sion; theirs at sight. 
 
 Yes, the exclusive Drake hotel, by the rim of an inland sea, harbor- 
 ing the little god who goes about wearing only a quiver, bow, an arrow 
 or two. In the present instance, as he sometimes does, for he was 
 in such a hurry, he surely wore his tiny feather ankle wings; joy lends 
 a halo to the vision ; he stops not, loiters not and never looks backward. 
 
 The future is a great land, may it be flowing with love and joy for 
 Bertha Baur's daughter and hers. 
 
 The ladies spent the summer abroad as has been their custom for 
 some years, going in mid-May to England. Later on, with Mrs. Chad- 
 wick who joined them in Paris, the three went South to spend their 
 second summer together at Antibes, and in the same magnificent cha- 
 teau that was their home the previous year, as told above. 
 
 Their pleasures have been many; their experiences varied and rich. 
 
 No other family has afforded more local interest than the one of 
 this story, interest unbroken, unvaried in high degree, through the 
 years since long ago, until the present moment. By only a few has it 
 been equalled in the city's history, and so undoubtedly it will continue 
 until the shadows descend. 
 
 No other woman among us has lived so entirely the gamut of human 
 experience as Bertha Duppler Baur. From a modest beginning, 
 through achievement, romance, fortune, tragedy, pathos of situation; 
 a long moment in which almost she looked into the grey face of des- 
 pairing sorrow; then business, travel, politics, finished social position, 
 she has been and continues to be an outstanding personality. Hers 
 truly a history-making career. She is a veritable Chicagoan. She is 
 character. It is ours to rejoice in an age that gives so richly, and be 
 happy for our womankind. It will be long years ere another of her 
 kind and quality passes this way. 
 
 In her mighty inland city she has wrought fearlessly, continuously, 
 tirelessly, and wrought so excellently we hold, that the world is enti- 
 
Bowing to England's Queen 171 
 
 tied to a bit of her history, to know something of the character about 
 which is sketched this brief story of her life, some of her activities 
 and achievements. Only that the work might have been better per- 
 formed. 
 
 However it all may be accepted, the career and its story, I feel in 
 closing the little tribute to worth and friendship with a favorite poet's 
 earnest line: 
 
 "The future I may face now, I have proved the past." 
 
 To Bertha Baur: Long life to Our Own Lady. 
 
 Chicago, 
 August, 1931. 
 
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