The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [158]
“What happened?” I picked up her other hand; it was cold, and I was reminded of Minnie. But then she squeezed it, and I had hope. “Mrs. Bleeker! It’s me, Vinnie! Charles and I are fine—we were rescued from our room.”
She didn’t reply, although her eyelids fluttered; I looked over at Mr. Bleeker, who took a big, shuddering breath.
“She jumped—we both jumped from our room to a balcony about two stories below. I landed just fine, but Julia, she—she hit the fencing, the iron fencing, and her head—it just hit it. This big post. I was able to get her down a ladder, but—I don’t know, Vinnie. I just don’t know.”
“Oh!” There was no bruise visible on her face, but it was so deathly pale.
“I tried to get to you and Charles, I did, but it was impossible.” Mr. Bleeker now looked at me anxiously. “Gosh, I’m glad you got out. I was worried sick; so was Julia. She kept crying, ‘Oh, Sylvester, those dear little souls! How frightened they must be!’ But then—” And he couldn’t go on.
“I know. Don’t think about it.”
“That farm,” he said, a great tear rolling down his face.
“What?”
“That farm. She always wanted that farm up in Albany. ‘Sylvester,’ she said, but never in a scolding way—oh, no! ‘I surely would like to have that little farm.’ But I never gave it to her. I’m the one with the show blood in my veins, not her. But she never once complained, she always followed me, and now—”
“Shhh,” I said, for I believed Mrs. Bleeker could hear us, even if she couldn’t speak. “You’ll give her that farm, I know it. You’ll have all the time in the world.”
“Do you think so, Vinnie?”
I looked at him; his eyes were round with both hope and fear.
“I do,” I lied, as all at once, two men and a stretcher made their way through the crowd toward us. Much too roughly, they loaded Mrs. Bleeker upon it and trotted off toward a hospital wagon; Mr. Bleeker had to sprint to catch up, shouting, “Where are you taking her?” It all happened so fast, I didn’t get to say goodbye—to either of them.
I continued to pass out blankets until the sun rose high in the sky; it must have been noon before I realized I was still in my nightgown. But then, so were many other people. Eventually, policemen rounded everyone up and directed them to other hotels; we were told not to leave Milwaukee for at least two days, as they needed to take down statements from us all.
Somehow, I managed to get Charles more or less upright and moving again, and at my urging, over the next few days we gave two benefit performances for the victims of the fire. And we dedicated each performance to our good friends Julia and Sylvester Bleeker. It was the first time we had performed without them, and it felt wrong; neither of our hearts was in it, but we were happy to help a good many people, a number of whom feared being stranded now that all their money was in ashes.
After the benefits, Charles and I left for home, this time for good; there was no question of continuing the tour. And so, after traveling the globe, crossing the country countless times, traversing up and down and through rivers, deserts, and mountains, the General Tom Thumb Company came to its sad end in the ashes of a hotel in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Minnie was gone; Nutt had died in 1881 of Bright’s disease.
And now, too, was Mrs. Bleeker taken from us; she died twelve days later from her injuries. After staying in Milwaukee to give testimony at one of the inquests, Mr. Bleeker retired to a niece’s home in Brooklyn—still agonized because he had not been able to get to Charles and me.
Although, oddly, many news reports and articles began to surface saying that he had—that he had saved Charles and me from the flames himself, depicting him as a grieving, but heroic, husband and friend.
And while I don’t know exactly how that rumor began, I could not help but suspect that an old friend of ours might have had something to do with it.
INTERMISSION
From the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 11, 1883
It is not open to dispute that the Brooklyn Bridge is the most wonderful