Obituary of a Three-Century Man, Chapter 4
1912: Jackson’s Reaction to Girlie’s death, the Titanic, and an Attempted Assassination
We know how the parents, Will and Gertie, felt about Girlie’s death, her funeral, and the circumstances surrounding it. Jackson’s response was different, of course, being a sibling rather than a parent. But that is not to say that he wasn’t deeply affected and, in fact, fundamentally altered by the family tragedy.
Girlie’s death at five from the rattlesnake bite was the first time in Jackson’s idyllic albeit ruggedly-lived existence that he was forced to face the loss of a loved one. And his little sister, of all people. His only sister. And at such a young age. To have her life curtailed before she barely had a chance to begin it did not seem fair at all. She would not grow up to fall in love, marry, and have children of her own. Jackson would never be an uncle to her children, or a protector to her if she was ever mistreated. That part of his life, that he never doubted would in due time arrive, died with her.
With the focus of the emotional pain and loss being understandably directed on the parents, what the siblings felt and how they suffered was not contemplated in depth by anyone, not even themselves. They realized without consciously having to think about it that their role now was to console the parents. This they would do mainly by their mere presence, but also by their hugs and willingness to be hugged, and their not adding to their parents’ grief by quarreling among themselves or having to be reminded to do their chores.
They were all depressed—the entire family—but they still went about their work, albeit mechanically. It gave them something to do and distract themselves with, and was a blessing in that way.
Jackson’s pain was felt as a deep bruise in his chest. It seemed to him as if he had been slammed with a sledgehammer. Over the months and years, the pain gradually subsided, but it never left. The leaden weight of it never dissolved; it was his constant companion. Now he knew that nothing was to be fully trusted. Anything could happen at any time. Anybody could die at any time. It was as if his spirit, formerly galloping with buoyant expectations for the future, had now been reined back to a slow, trudging walk through mud and quicksand. In time, Jackson was able to speed up to a trot, so to speak, but he never really galloped again. The pain of the past and the dread of certain inevitable future events had permeated his very being.
Nevertheless, Jackson knew that he had to carry on. He had to continue living, and not give up, as he had at first wanted to. He had to forge ahead—for Girlie’s memory, for his family, and for himself. The watershed event hardened him. It was not that he became emotionally cold, or distant, but he was now mentally prepared for anything. He felt bolder, more courageous. This was because he felt he had already experienced the worst, and survived it, so nothing could really phase, let alone topple him, now. Nothing would ever catch him completely unaware again. The devil had done his worse. Jackson hated him for it, but he no longer feared him. Jackson would cope with anything that might be thrown at him. He was now, in a sense, indomitable; inured to tragedy, and galvanized against the barbs and arrows of life’s vagaries.
The soul of a man, the heart of a man, is thus stronger than any mere creation of man, no matter how large or supposedly invulnerable it is.
Although the Titanic was considered unsinkable, when it tested its mettle against a giant block of ice on its maiden voyage in 1912, it lost. It sank, after all, despite promises to the contrary. More than ten times as many people died in the Titanic disaster than had at the Triangle Shirtwaist fire the year before. The news of it was riveting to all, but not as shocking to Jackson as to some. As mentioned, nothing really surprised him anymore. Anything could happen at any time. Just because scientists or shipbuilders claimed something was so didn’t mean that it necessarily was.
Jackson felt sorry for those people who had drowned in the cold and dark, with the ship groaning and the people shrieking. His fellow feeling was stronger than it would have been before he knew so intimately the pain that death brings. For him, the reports were not just news; they were reminders. But it wasn’t the victims, so much, that Jackson pitied. Although he felt for them when he imagined what their last minutes must have been like, most of his heartache was reserved for those still living—the “survivors”—that’s where his sympathy mainly lay. Those who died would not fulfill their promise and potential, but they were no longer conscious of that. They weren’t aware of any loss, of any missing out. They were simply dead, nonexistent. It was those left behind: the parents, the spouses, the children, the siblings, the close friends, with whom Jackson empathized.
Girlie was dead, but safe. Jackson was alive, but susceptible to attack, danger, and all sorts of unforeseen and unforeseeable events. And, thus, he was ever vigilant.
In the middle of October 1912, former President Teddy Roosevelt was perhaps saved by his long-windedness. He was in Milwaukee to deliver a campaign speech when he was shot by a saloonkeeper who objected to Roosevelt running for President again after having already served two terms in that office. The assailant shot at close range, aiming for Roosevelt’s heart, but the bullet’s force was lessened and its trajectory slightly altered by it first hitting the ex-President’s glass case and a thick bundle of papers—Roosevelt’s speech that he was to give that night.
Had Roosevelt prepared a Gettysburg Address-length speech, he may have been killed, but the voluminous manuscript detailing his campaign promises played the role of a bullet-proof vest. Not to be swayed from his purpose by a mere assassination attempt, Teddy gave the speech that night, with the bullet still in his body.
Even though they had little else in common, Jackson and Teddy were alike in that they were indomitable in the face of adversity. The bullet was removed from Roosevelt’s body after the speech. The weight in Jackson’s breast remained lodged within him, though.
Chapter 1 can be read here.
Chapter 2 can be read here.
Chapter 3 can be read here.
Chapter 5 can be read here.