The Titanic Plan Read Online Free
Author: Michael Bockman, Ron Freeman
Tags: LABOR, Politics, Business, conspiracy, Government, Wall Street, Economy, titanic, radicals
flailed their elbows, using them as weapons to carve a path to the doorways for themselves and their wives.
Astor’s eyes went upwards, trying to find his mother through the haze that hung over the room. As everyone was shoving to get out, Astor pushed against the crowd. Coughing and gasping for breath, he raced up the staircase, leaving a trail of red footprints in the fine layer of white dust that was now covering the carpet. Reaching the top of the stairs, Astor spotted the silhouette of his mother through the haze. She was still sitting in her chair by the rail. Alone. Her maids had obviously abandoned her.
“ Mother, are you alright?” Astor said, dashing to her.
A weak, low gurgle emerged from her throat.
“ Mother, can you breathe?”
She continued to choke out the strange, guttural sound. Astor began to panic. He brought his face close to hers, felt her weak breath on his skin. She was struggling to say something.
“ What is it, mother, what is it?”
Barely audible, she labored to mumble over and over, “We’ll…stake a cup o’ kindness yet…for…auld…lang…syne.” Then Astor noticed tributaries of tears streaming down through the chalk white dust that layered her face.
A large chunk of plaster plummeted from the ceiling, smashing with an explosive thud next to Mrs. Astor’s chair. “We’re leaving, mother,” Astor said, gently maneuvering her feather-light body over his shoulder. Pellets of plaster continued to rain down. Sulfurous smoke poured from the vents throughout the house.
At the front entrance the partygoers pushed their way through the elegant doors, unhinging them in their panic. Astor moved into the foyer with his mother. He noticed Ava being escorted out by her bridge partner, who was guiding her with his firm hand on her behind. Mrs. Astor noticed it too, startling her back to the present. “Isn’t that your wife?” she asked.
Astor didn’t answer. Instead, he re-adjusted his mother over his shoulder, causing her wig of curls to slide sideways over her bald head.
Into the chill of the night the cream of New York society poured onto Fifth Avenue, looking like shell-shocked refugees. The clanging of bells from the arriving fire brigade mixed with the cacophony of firecrackers and shouts of “Happy New Year” that echoed along the avenues. Astor took his mother across the street and set her down against a tree. He began adjusting her wig back into place. Down the block a high-pitched whistle pierced the air and then a twisting firework flared into a starburst of color.
“ Ooohhhh,” Mrs. Astor cried out. “It’s a sign!”
Astor continued to fiddle with the wig. “A sign for what, mother?”
“ That God loves us. God loves the Astors.”
CHAPTER 2
1908
On Monday, April 11, 1908, a bright spring morning in Washington D.C., Captain Archibald Butt walked through a guard gate and onto the White House grounds to start his new job. He wrote to his mother that evening, telling how he was greeted by the President with “a most hearty welcome…Roosevelt came into the office, laid one hand on my shoulder and with the other wrung my own…”
More than any other President, Theodore Roosevelt reveled in activity. He rode horses, he played tennis, he hiked, he chopped trees, he camped, he hunted, he swam, he golfed, he fished, he was a man fully engaged in life. That’s what attracted people to him. Big, brash, and bold, Theodore Roosevelt was America.
Not only could Archie keep up with Roosevelt, he could challenge the President. He was a better horseman, marksman, and natural athlete. And a good challenge invigorated Roosevelt like nothing else. Archie knew his part and played it perfectly. He quickly became Roosevelt’s closest companion, always one step behind the President, the trusted soldier and aide, ready at the President’s beckon call.
On July 24th, Archie traveled to the Roosevelt home at Sagamore Hill in Oyster Bay, New York, to join
Astor’s eyes went upwards, trying to find his mother through the haze that hung over the room. As everyone was shoving to get out, Astor pushed against the crowd. Coughing and gasping for breath, he raced up the staircase, leaving a trail of red footprints in the fine layer of white dust that was now covering the carpet. Reaching the top of the stairs, Astor spotted the silhouette of his mother through the haze. She was still sitting in her chair by the rail. Alone. Her maids had obviously abandoned her.
“ Mother, are you alright?” Astor said, dashing to her.
A weak, low gurgle emerged from her throat.
“ Mother, can you breathe?”
She continued to choke out the strange, guttural sound. Astor began to panic. He brought his face close to hers, felt her weak breath on his skin. She was struggling to say something.
“ What is it, mother, what is it?”
Barely audible, she labored to mumble over and over, “We’ll…stake a cup o’ kindness yet…for…auld…lang…syne.” Then Astor noticed tributaries of tears streaming down through the chalk white dust that layered her face.
A large chunk of plaster plummeted from the ceiling, smashing with an explosive thud next to Mrs. Astor’s chair. “We’re leaving, mother,” Astor said, gently maneuvering her feather-light body over his shoulder. Pellets of plaster continued to rain down. Sulfurous smoke poured from the vents throughout the house.
At the front entrance the partygoers pushed their way through the elegant doors, unhinging them in their panic. Astor moved into the foyer with his mother. He noticed Ava being escorted out by her bridge partner, who was guiding her with his firm hand on her behind. Mrs. Astor noticed it too, startling her back to the present. “Isn’t that your wife?” she asked.
Astor didn’t answer. Instead, he re-adjusted his mother over his shoulder, causing her wig of curls to slide sideways over her bald head.
Into the chill of the night the cream of New York society poured onto Fifth Avenue, looking like shell-shocked refugees. The clanging of bells from the arriving fire brigade mixed with the cacophony of firecrackers and shouts of “Happy New Year” that echoed along the avenues. Astor took his mother across the street and set her down against a tree. He began adjusting her wig back into place. Down the block a high-pitched whistle pierced the air and then a twisting firework flared into a starburst of color.
“ Ooohhhh,” Mrs. Astor cried out. “It’s a sign!”
Astor continued to fiddle with the wig. “A sign for what, mother?”
“ That God loves us. God loves the Astors.”
CHAPTER 2
1908
On Monday, April 11, 1908, a bright spring morning in Washington D.C., Captain Archibald Butt walked through a guard gate and onto the White House grounds to start his new job. He wrote to his mother that evening, telling how he was greeted by the President with “a most hearty welcome…Roosevelt came into the office, laid one hand on my shoulder and with the other wrung my own…”
More than any other President, Theodore Roosevelt reveled in activity. He rode horses, he played tennis, he hiked, he chopped trees, he camped, he hunted, he swam, he golfed, he fished, he was a man fully engaged in life. That’s what attracted people to him. Big, brash, and bold, Theodore Roosevelt was America.
Not only could Archie keep up with Roosevelt, he could challenge the President. He was a better horseman, marksman, and natural athlete. And a good challenge invigorated Roosevelt like nothing else. Archie knew his part and played it perfectly. He quickly became Roosevelt’s closest companion, always one step behind the President, the trusted soldier and aide, ready at the President’s beckon call.
On July 24th, Archie traveled to the Roosevelt home at Sagamore Hill in Oyster Bay, New York, to join
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