The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Erik Larson
- Language: English
- Genre: Novels
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- Price: Free
Aboard the Olympic
THE DATE WAS APRIL 14, 1912, a sinister day in maritime history, but of
course the man in suite 63—65, shelter deck C, did not yet know it. What he
did know was that his foot hurt badly, more than he had expected. He was
sixty-five years old and had become a large man. His hair had turned gray,
his mustache nearly white, but his eyes were as blue as ever, bluer at this
instant by proximity to the sea. His foot had forced him to delay the voyage,
and now it kept him anchored in his suite while the other first-class
passengers, his wife among them, did what he would have loved to do, which
was to explore the ship’s more exotic precincts. The man loved the opulence
of the ship, just as he loved Pullman Palace cars and giant fireplaces, but his
foot problem tempered his enjoyment.
He recognized that the systemic
malaise that caused it was a consequence in part of his own refusal over the
years to limit his courtship of the finest wines, foods, and cigars. The pain
reminded him daily that his time on the planet was nearing its end. Just
before the voyage he told a friend, “This prolonging of a man’s life doesn’t
interest me when he’s done his work and has done it pretty well.”
The man was Daniel Hudson Burnham, and by now his name was familiar
throughout the world. He was an architect and had done his work pretty well
in Chicago, New York, Washington, San Francisco, Manila, and many other
cities. He and his wife, Margaret, were sailing to Europe in the company of
their daughter and her husband for a grand tour that was to continue through
the summer.
Burnham had chosen this ship, the R.M.S. Olympic of the White
Star Line, because it was new and glamorous and big. At the time he booked
passage the Olympic was the largest vessel in regular service, but just three
days before his departure a sister ship—a slightly longer twin—had stolen
that rank when it set off on its maiden voyage. The twin, Burnham knew, was
at that moment carrying one of his closest friends, the painter Francis Millet,
over the same ocean but in the opposite direction.
As the last sunlight of the day entered Burnham’s suite, he and Margaret set
off for the first-class dining room on the deck below. They took the elevator
to spare his foot the torment of the grand stairway, but he did so with
reluctance, for he admired the artistry in the iron scrollwork of its balustrades
and the immense dome of iron and glass that flushed the ship’s core with
natural light. His sore foot had placed increasing limitations on his mobility.
Only a week earlier he had found himself in the humiliating position of
having to ride in a wheelchair through Union Station in Washington, D.C.,
the station he had designed.
The Burnhams dined by themselves in the Olympic’s first-class salon, then
retired to their suite and there, for no particular reason, Burnham’s thoughts
returned to Frank Millet. On impulse, he resolved to send Millet a midsea
greeting via the Olympic’s powerful Marconi wireless.
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