Grounds For Divorce
Researching My Ancestors
Tillie sat at her desk, typing up the notes from this morning’s meeting with the new client. She could hear snippets of conversation coming from Mr. Schwartz’s office. Occasionally, bouts of laughter broke out between Mr. Bailey and her boss. The two men generally took a mid-morning break together. Today, they were discussing one of Mr. Bailey’s real estate transactions. They appeared to be laughing over the idiosyncrasies of the land owner. She enjoyed listening to their anecdotes as they were both fine story-tellers.
As she pulled the last sheet out the typewriter, Tillie glanced up at the clock. Almost eleven o’clock. She had about an hour before she took her own lunch break. Gathering up the notes, she tapped them into a neat pile, then grabbed a folder from the bottom drawer of her desk. She slipped the papers into the folder as she stood up. She knocked lightly on Mr. Schwartz’s door before pushing the door open.
“I’ve just finished typing up the notes from this morning’s meeting, sir,” she said, as she walked towards the desk where Mr. Schwartz sat. She turned to nod to Mr. Bailey, who gave her a smile in return.
“Fine girl you’ve got here, Will,” declared Mr. Bailey, “if you ever want to let her go, I’ll take her in a heartbeat.”
It was an on-going joke between the three of them. Tillie smiled as she passed the folder across the desk to Mr. Schwartz.
“Now, why would Mr. Schwartz ever let me go? I’m the best stenographer in the city,” she responded.
“Right you are, Tillie!” said Will, as he flipped open the folder and scanned the papers inside.
In the front room, the bell on the door rang as it was opened. Hesitant footsteps could be heard walking across the wooden floor.
“I’ll go see who that is, Mr. Schwartz,” said Tillie, as she turned towards the front room. She stopped when she reached the threshold between the two rooms. Standing in the middle of the front office was her estranged husband.
“Oh my god, what are you doing here, Paul?” Tillie demanded.
Will rose from his desk and walked towards Tillie, standing behind her. Looking over her shoulder, he observed Paul pacing and twitching nervously in front of Tillie’s desk. Last they heard, Paul was working in Minneapolis, hundreds of miles away. A few months ago, Tillie had asked Will to help her in obtaining a divorce. In two years of marriage, Tillie had suffered from Paul’s infidelities. He had walked out on her several times, leaving her destitute. Her need for employment had provided Will with a very competent stenographer, however. After their last round of arguments, Tillie told Paul to get out and never come back. Neither Tillie (or Will) had expected to see him again, especially after they had learned that he moved to Minneapolis.
“How can I help you, Paul?” asked Will.
“I want to talk to my wife,” Paul replied. He held Will’s gaze briefly, then looked away.
Tillie stared at Paul. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Come on, honey, I just want to talk,” Paul said, “I came all the way from Minneapolis to see you.”
Tillie was past her breaking point. All she wanted to do was scream. Would talking one more time really solve anything? Probably not. Staying professional in front of Mr. Schwartz was important though.
“Tillie, tell me what you want. I can call the constable and he can remove Mr. Robinson, or the two of you can take a moment to talk in the small office?” Will offered.
Tillie did not know what to do. Calling for the constable might create a situation that would aggravate Paul further.
“There’s no need to call for the constable, Mr. Schwartz, I just have a couple things I need to discuss with Tillie, and then, I will be on my way.”
Tillie turned to face Will. “If it is alright will you, sir, let’s hold off calling the constable.” Returning to face Paul, she nodded her head and gestured toward the door behind her desk.
“I’ll be right next door, if you need anything,” Will said, as he watched the couple enter the room.
Mr. Bailey coughed, “Um, that’s a sticky situation, Will. I’d best be getting back to my own work at this point.”
Momentarily startled, Will rotated back into his office. Will had forgotten his friend was in the room.
“I agree, Jack, hopefully the situation will resolve itself, and this will be the last we see of Mr. Robinson, except perhaps in a court room.”
Jack pushed himself out of the chair and extended his hand to Will. The two men shook hands.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jack said, as he headed out the door. The bell jingled as he pulled the door open. Will could hear Jack whistle as he walked down the hall to his office.
Will sighed and shook his head. A soft murmur of voices came from the small office. Perhaps the talk was going well. He decided to leave the door to his room open just in case. He was about to sit back down in his chair when he heard the first gun shot.
Will bolted out of his office. He heard Tillie scream in pain. But before he could open the door, another shot rang out. Will flung open the door and saw that Tillie was still standing.
“Noooo!” Tillie shrieked through tears and pain. The first bullet had caught Tillie in the shoulder blade as she attempted to leave the room. The second had passed through the fabric of her sleeve without causing injury. Blood dripped through her fingers as she tried to reach the wound on her back. Focused on her injury, Tillie was not paying attention to Paul. He prepared to take another shot and pointed a revolver at Tillie’s head.
“If you won’t love me, no one will, especially him!” Paul shouted, pointing at Will with the gun.
Will grabbed Tillie’s good arm and pulled her out the door, then threw himself at Paul. Will reached for the gun as he knocked Paul to the ground. In the struggle, another bullet fired. It whizzed past Will’s ear and embedded itself in the doorframe.
By now, the gunfire had attracted the attention of several people from offices across the hall. The front bell rang wildly as Frank Hay arrived accompanied by a constable. He spied Tillie slumped against her desk, her long skirts splayed across the floor. Blood covered her shirtwaist. Despite her injury, she managed to gesture toward the smaller office, although the noise ensuing from the fight within was indication enough.
Frank and the constable rushed into the room where the two men wrestled for the gun. The newcomers entered the brawl. Outnumbered, Paul was quickly subdued. Facedown on the floor, the constable handcuffed Paul. Frank removed the remaining bullets from the revolver. Will lay on his back as he let the rush of adrenaline wash over him.
“Tillie, are you okay?” he called out. Will could hear her whimpering from the other room.
“I’ll check on her,” Frank said, as he left the room. “Constable, call for a doctor.”
“Yes, Mr. Hays,” replied the young man. Turning to Will, he asked, “Where is your phone, Mr. Schwartz?”
“There is an extension out by Tillie’s desk,” Will responded. “How is she doing, Frank?”
“She’ll live,” Frank replied.
In the months that followed, Tilly received her divorce while Paul was sentenced to a year in the county jail for attempted murder. This short story was based upon true events. The lawyer, William Schwartz, was the younger brother of my 2x great grandmother Elizabeth (Schwartz) Yegerlehner. He practiced in Brazil, Indiana, and then later in Indianapolis. He later became an infamous counterfeiter (but that’s a story for another day). Newspapers provide invaluable information about our ancestors, filling out their lives beyond census and vital records and adding daily details that governmental forms omit. While several major companies provide access to newspapers (Newspapers.com, NewspaperArchive, and GenealogyBank), don’t forget to check out state archives, universities, Google Newspapers, InternetArchive, and local libraries. Advantage Archives works with many smaller libraries who wish to manage their own collections. Happy hunting!
