Play@YSDC

Boston 1920, November 22nd 11am

Parker's Restaurant, School Street
Parker’s is an old and famous restaurant belonging the Parker Hotel. Popular among Boston’s elite and illustrious visitors, it is not cheap and is more likely to appeal to someone of Isadora’s class, rather than Norman’s. At 11am, it is busy with the mid-morning tea and brunch crowd, and the buzz of conversation and the bustle of the waiting staff makes for a convivial atmosphere.

Being gentlemen, Norman and Putnam have arrived early to await Isadora, and are sipping tea and chatting about their upcoming expedition. Putnam touches Norman’s arm and nods towards a woman who has just entered. He is a little nervous about this introduction, but he trusts Norman to be diplomatic.

“Here she is”.

Isadora’s ‘unconventional’ appearance causes few heads to turn. Norman sees a woman who appears slightly younger than himself, with a hairstyle and fashion very different from what he’s used to. He groans inwardly.

They both rise to greet her as a waiter leads her to their table.

“Isadora! Lovely to see you. Please allow me to introduce my research associate, Norman Owens.”

"...on arrival in Northern Quebec, the expedition will steam from Fort Rupert to Chisasibi--" Norman Owens cut short his sentence to Putnam when Isadora arrived at their table. He stood, trying not to stare at her hair.

"Ms. Carmichael, please"--indicating a chair.

Isadora Carmichael



Isadora's hair is indeed a vision: a fine artistic mess. She hates revealing clothes (that "flapper" style leaves her cold - literally), but her modest dress still attracts attention due to the unusual rich turquoise color and the elaborate symbols embroidered in gold over her heart and the right shoulder. Professor Putnam recognizes the design as one belonging to the prominent architect and fellow Theosophist Claude Bragdon. He might even recall a discussion of Bragdon's book, "A Primer of Higher Space: The Fourth Dimension".

Isadora is clearly in a much better state than on the exhibition. There are dark circles around her eyes, but the fogginess is gone from her gaze.

Before sitting down, she thrusts out her right hand towards Owens. Not for a kiss, but clearly for a shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Owens."

Norman took her hand but barely shook it. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." He sat down too. To Isadora, fumbling slightly with the pot: "Tea?" and to Putnam: "More tea, sir?"

Putnam waves his hand. “I’m fine thank you Norman”.

He turns to Isadora. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, but I really must be getting along now. Norman has agreed to give you all the assistance you need in this err… endeavor.”

He stands up. In a rare fit of straightforward clarity, he addresses Isadora directly. “Norman is a troubled soul, but please be assured, you can trust him implicitly. Good day to you both”.

He turns and nods solemnly at Norman, drops some bills on the table, and leaves.

Isadora Carmichael

"Yes, please," she says and slides her teacup closer to Norman. She's just about to turn to Putnam (the presence of a person she knows is comforting, and Isadora thought that he would stick around until Mr. Jordan arrives), but the professor abruptly jumps up and disappears, leaving only a couple of bills on the table and a rather weird remark hanging in the air. Isadora raises an eyebrow.

"Professor Putnam is a great scholar, but his manners... I don't even want to think about what he told you about my soul."

She waves over a waiter and orders a glass of Amontillado.

"Show me a soul that's not troubled... I feel it is the standard mode of existence," she says, almost as a side note.

"But I hope Professor Putnam also told you about the nature of our 'endeavor'? I don't know any details yet, but the Mr. Jordan who hired us suspects his house is haunted."

"Brandy, waiter," asked Norman. "I suspect that this is not a conversation for tea. As for 'troubled soul,' I really have no idea what the Professor meant." He wondered about Isadora's soul, surveyed her dress and its symbols, and decided he was way out of his depth. "All I know is that unexplainable things happen at this house of Mr. Jordan's and that we are to look into the mystery."

Isadora Carmichael

"Yes, you are right, we have to keep an open mind," Isadora says, sipping at her sherry.

She doesn't feel as intimidated by Norman as the Professor feared, but she tries to seem as practical as possible:

"I think we will have to stay at the house for a night and a day at least. And keep notes. But you are a scientist, aren't you? So I don't really need to stress the importance of notes. Can you bring some compasses, magnifying glasses? Various tools for measurements. Thermometer, and that one for pressure, and for humidity..."

"I will bring along a camera."

Before this meeting, Isadora asked her husband about Professor Putnam's research, but she still doesn't know much about Norman.

"Were you on Professor Putnam's previous expedition as well? Or will this be your first time with him?"

The attentive waiter clears his throat.

"I'm sorry, Madam and Sir, but Parker's does not sell alcohol. It is illegal" he says, a trifle coldly.

"Perhaps more tea is in order".

He strides away.

"Of course not," said Norman. To Isadora: "Look how unsettled we two are?

"Yes, I'll bring along the scientific paraphernalia you suggest--a barometer is the instrument you require?" he ventured. Whispering: "I'm sorry to sound like a prude but do you intend to stay overnight unaccompanied? What would your husband say?"

OOC:   Has Norman traveled with Putnam before?

OOC,[ooc]I meant Putnam's previous (as in last) expedition -- I sort of wanted to get Norman talking about maybe that he was in Finland at that time ;) But,of course, he may not be so open about to talk about past experiences.[/ooc]

Isadora Carmichael

"I won't be unaccompanied - you will be there. If you don't trust yourself, you can talk to my husband, he will be happy to assure you that it is fine."

"I suspect you don't get many women in your Northern expeditions."

Norman swallowed. He thought to himself: "And what about my reputation?" but answered: "Only Inuit women. Shamanism is their religion, like your own, I presume?"

Isadora Carmichael

"Inuit shamans? Wonderful topic, I would love to learn more about their beliefs. Maybe you can read a lecture about them for our Society. I think I might find that I share some beliefs about the nature of the human soul with them..."

She sips her tea, which now, after the sherry-denial, tastes awfully bland. But she needs some liquid before she launches into her monologue:

"But as for me, no, I don't have a religion. I have many beliefs, and many questions. I don't know how much do you know about the Theosophical Movement -- I guess you are aware that Professor Putnam is a member too? For me, personally, the Society is a group of like-minded people, who share knowledge. There are people among us who are more dogmatic. Maybe you can even say that Theosophy is their religion. Lady Blavatsky has a word for it, Wisdom-Religion. "

"A lecture? Yes, I'd be pleased to do it."

"I only know a little about Theosophy, and that Prof. Putnam is an enthusiastic convert to 'Wisdom-religion.' I'm all for knowledge, whatever form it comes in. But my experience tells me that there is always something new round the corner, some new ideas... I could never tie myself down with labels. Like yourself I suppose, Ms. Carmichael?" Norman found her interesting albeit decidedly odd.

"I like to have my name," Isadora says, in a serious tone. "But other than that, no, no labels. People say I'm an artist, a painter, that's a label I have and sometimes call myself that as well, but I would paint even if nobody called me that."

She looks at a small elegant silver wristwatch.

"I think it's time to go to Mr. Jordan's office. We can continue our discussion in the cab."

Norman immediately stood up. "Ms. Carmichael, may I call us a cab?"

"Yes, please," Isadora says, while taking out a banknote from her purse and adding it to the pile Professor Putnam left behind.

Outside the restaurant the rain of the last few days has finally stopped, but the sky is overcast and the chill of approaching winter is in the air. It’s another busy day in Boston, with crowds hurrying to and fro and the street busy with motorized and horse-drawn traffic, but Isadora and Norman have no trouble in hailing a cab for the short journey to Jordan’s office in nearby Franklin Street, just past Norman B Leventhal Park.

Norman held open thr cab's door for Isadora, and gave instructions to its driver.

"Your dress, the way you look," he continued their conversation, "surely they are an expression of your beliefs, for everyone to see? It's--forgive me--like showing off. Even if one doesn't understand?" He confessed: "I don't understand, I suspect my thoughts are looping round on themselves. See, Ms. Carmichael, you've befuddled me, confound it!"

Isadora settles comfortably into the cab then contemplates Norman's words for a minute.

"There are two sides here. You may say I'm 'showing off'. I'm well off, my husband is rich, and my own paintings sometimes fetch substantial prices in art galleries. I know people think me an eccentric -- but this is relative. I spent some years in Paris, and I can say that my dress wouldn't attract much attention in the Quartier Latin."

And in a way I'm 'showing off' my beliefs... As an Inuit shaman is showing them off when wearing a ritual mask or brandishing a carved staff."

She points at the embroidered designs on her dress.

"These patterns are not just 'beautiful'. They are powerful. They protect me, protect my soul from malign influence. It's not really for other to understand... it's for me to be safe."

Norman smiled--a genuine one, the first time he had done so that morning.

"I like you, Ms. Carmichael. I hope we can be friends." He watched the passing traffic. "Paris must be beautiful? When I went to Finland my ship berthed at Liverpool, and then Gothenburg; I never saw the best of Europe."

"Yes, we will certainly get along," she says, returning the smile.

"Paris is exquisite, very lively, always something happening. So it's beautiful if that's what you like. You are an explorer, a man of the wilderness, so I presume you'd last a day in Paris. That city is the opposite of nature. But I liked it there, it was important for me to be there. I hope it will be able to recover after the War."

Norman might notice the smile slowly fading from Isadora's face as she speaks about Paris.

"Liverpool? Funny thing... I'm a British citizen, but I've never ever been to England... Not even for a second."

"What did you do in Finland, Mr. Owens? Some sort of a study of Suomi swamps?"

"Yes, I suppose that I would find Paris too civilised; but I'm quite the history buff, so I'd love to walk in the footsteps of Emperors." Norman halted his soliloquy abruptly. "Ms. Carmichael, you look pained?"

OOC:   If I remember, Norman will come back to "British citizen" and "Suomi swamps."

"Yes, in that case, Paris has plenty to offer."

Isadora turns towards the window on her side.

"Well, I too am a troubled soul. The years in Paris were the most 'crowded' in my life. Lots of confusion, turbulence, excitement. Too much, possibly."

"When you say 'crowded,' do you mean endless soirée's and suchlike? I am solitary, boring to you no doubt!"

"Yes. If you decided to stay at home one evening, you could be sure at least four people show up with bottles of cheap wine. This was very hard for me. I prefer very small companies, and plenty of privacy. And these crowds brought with themselves too many wild emotions, nervous situations..."

She turns back from the window.

"I recognize some of these streets. I think we'll be there soon."

"You're a sensitive, picking up unwanted emotions?" Norman didn't believe that this was true, only that Isadora did, but he wasn't going to thump on his prosaic thought.

Norman laughed. "True." And he added his thought: "Never liked absinthe--much too sweet for me."

"Wormwood is a good herb, it has many medical qualities... But a vile potion when distilled and mixed with anise."

The cab stops.

OOC:   Let's go and meet Mr. Jordan, shall we?

Norman alighted. He went round the cab and opened its door for Isadora.

Jordan’s office is on the 3rd floor of the Wigglesworth Building in Franklin Street, showing that he must be successful in business. Announcing themselves to the doorman, Norman and Isadora take the elevator up to the 3rd floor.

The reception area is decorated with paintings and some sculptures, showing taste and refinement rather than ostentation. Jordan is wealthy, but not flashy.

They are greeted by an attractive secretary, who casts an appreciative eye over Norman’s chiseled features, and a less enthusiastic eye over Isadora, although she notes the exquisiteness of that particular shade of turquoise.

On announcement of their names, the secretary takes them directly to Jordan’s office – he is expecting them. “Please follow me” she chirps, batting her substantial eyelashes at Norman.

“So pleased to meet you both! I’m Harry Jordan”. He shakes their hands, appraising them both as he does. He’s obviously a shrewd man. Please come in, sit down” he indicates some chairs. “I hope it’s not too early to join me in a drink?”

Our heroes gladly assent and as he prepares the requests for a brandy and a sherry, he continues talking. “I’m so glad to have some help with this, it’s an infuriating problem. A superb location going to waste as there’s no-one I can let it to. It’s in need of some work, but it’s sure to fetch a handsome price. I should have known something was up when I got it so cheap”. He laughs, a little bitterly. “I’ve been in real estate for twenty years and made a fortune too, but I still end up with a lemon. Pretty poor showing.” He pauses as he sips his Canadian whiskey.

“Mrs Carmichael, my friend Willeford speaks very highly of you. And Mr Owens, the university is highly enthusiastic about you, so I’m very optimistic about this. I’m willing to reimburse you of course. How does $20 a day sound?"

Isadora despises absinthe and what it stands for, but sherry is a different matter! She happily accepts the drink. On the exhibition she was unable to pay attention to the story of Jordan's business, but now she understands the big-time realtor's problem.

"Thank you, Mr. Jordan. But let me point out straight away: I am not an 'exorcist', and, to my knowledge, neither is Mr. Owens. If this house is haunted, and of course we don't know this yet, but still, we are there to learn about the phenomena. We cannot guarantee to get rid of it."

She takes a sip of her sherry.

"Having said that, I'm very interested to see what's going on there. Can you tell us about who lives there now and what are their experiences?"

Jordan holds up his hands in a manner which suggests a calming motion. "Let me be clear Mrs Carmichael, I consider myself to be a God-fearing Christian, but I don't believe in ghosts. I only know that there is something wrong with that house, and I don't know what it is. I'm not looking for exorcisms, I want information so that I know how to proceed".

He rises from behind his desk and walks around it to face them. "Currently there is no-one living in the house, not since a month ago. It had been occupied by a very respectable family whom I rented it to, and I'm afraid that I must bear some of the responsibility of what happened to them. You see I had heard rumors about the house before I bought it, but chose to ignore them."

He pours himself another whiskey and it is plain to see that talking about this is painful for him. His guilt for what happened lays heavy on his shoulders.

Norman hesitated to speak his mind in front of Isadora, money wasn't an issue for her, obviously, but it was for him. Mr. Jordan's plush office, "sure to fetch a handsome price"--"Sir" he said, "$20? If we 'clean-up' the house $200 would be a suitable reward. And before anything is agreed upon I'd, I mean, we'd need to know much more; for a start, what happened to the 'respectable family'?"

Jordan turns to Norman. "I'm offering a $200 bonus if you're able to get to the bottom of the problem. I offer the daily rate as I don't think it is a matter which can be cleared up in one afternoon. It began before the events with the present family and I suspect that in fact it might go back a lot further. That is why this needs to be investigated thoroughly, it's not just a matter of sending in some workmen to clean the place up."

Sitting down again he continues. "I let the property in late 1918 to the Macarios, a second generation Italian family originally from Providence. They had moved to Boston as the father, Vittorio, had been offered a excellent position at one of banks here, and he had excellent references. That is why they could afford a better neighbourhood like Copp's Hill, although there were still limits on what they could spend."

"Before buying the house I had heard rumors of strange events, and yes, the mention of a haunting, but I thought of it as just silly nonsense. But a year after they moved in, Vittorio had suffered a serious accident in the house, and soon after he became insane, attacking people in the street. He was screaming about a haunting, with 'burning eyes'. Last month, Gabriela, the mother, had a breakdown and was also committed. Again, babbling about burning eyes".

He stops and looks at the floor. "Both of them had talked to me about their fears, they told me that sometimes objects and furniture would move by themselves, there were loud crashing sounds, and they were particularly frightened of one upstairs bedroom which they wouldn't enter. I thought that they were being irrational and told them not to worry. Now both are in an asylum and their boys are without parents. Quite frankly, I'm ashamed of myself for not listening." He stops and stares at the floor.

Norman didn't know what to make of it all. Jordan's story was unpleasant but talk of a haunting... Isadora was the right person for this matter but maybe he was as well, being sceptical. He thought of the much needed money.

"You shouldn't take this sad story to heart, Mr. Jordan. I wonder if we could speak to the Macario boys?"

Isadora is shocked by the story. The story sounds like a textbook case of haunting, but she wasn't ready for such a serious situation. Already two victims, and two children who are as good as orphans. How can Jordan talk endlessly about business matters, when a whole family was already ruined by the house? Suddenly the thought appears in her mind that she herself might be in danger as well if she enters the house... But she's already set herself to investigate the phenomena.

"The poor family... Yes, an interview with the children is important. Even though they will have to retell and relive these shattering experiences.

And what about the room? Is there anything special about it? Did they tell anything more about their fear?"

"I didn't think of that, Ms. Carmichael."

Jordan regains his focus. "Certainly, you can speak to the boys. They're with their aunt and uncle in Baltimore now, I have the address. I send a stipend every month to help with their care and schooling. They are young though, six and eight. I don't know how much they'll be able to tell you which is of worth."

He regards his now empty glass but decides against refilling it. "As far as events at the house go, I'm afraid I cannot tell you anymore of substance. I don't know what the problem with the bedroom was, although it was obviously important to the Macario's. Personally I've never witnessed anything untoward when I was at the property. But I do know that it is an old house, about 90 years old now".

He took the address.

"One never knows, Mr. Jordan, we may hear something of use.

"Let's find out about the house and Copp's Hill, its history and whatever. Do you have the deeds?

"What was Vittorio's serious accident?"

"We weren't able to discover as it wasn't witnessed, but he was badly cut, and was limping, perhaps he had fallen. He wasn't able to tell anyone what had happened, he was raving."

He continues.

"I only have the property rights concerning the transfer to my name from the previous owner, another property agent. I'm afraid it wouldn't be very useful to you, it might be better to try other sources of information".

Isadora thinks that 90 years isn't that old for a house -- but this must be her European background speaking.

"Mr. Jordan, can you request access to a list of previous owners through these years from the City Hall's archives? We can probably get information from the libraries also, although it's a tedious job, going through stacks of journals and newspapers, looking for bits of information.

I propose we go and see the house, get a clear first reading. Our minds are already tainted with information, but I think we can still be unburdened and unbiased... Then we can start with other inquiries. How do you call this, Mr. Owens? Empirical method?"

Jordan fixes Isadora with a level gaze. "Mrs Carmichael, I do not have very much information pertaining to the house. If I had, be assured I would tell you. I'm not able to gather information by myself, hence I am hiring people to investigate on my behalf. I appreciate that searching through public records, old newspaper clippings and libraries can be tedious, but that is how you will gather knowledge if you want to get to the bottom of this mystery. You're welcome to go to the house and begin your investigations from there, but forewarned is forearmed, as they say".

He spreads his arms. "Of course, if the job is not to your taste, I can look elsewhere for assistance."

Isadora raises an eyebrow at what she perceives to be a sudden change of tone.

"Mr. Jordan, all I asked you was whether you could request a list of previous owners from the City Council's archives. I'm not an expert in paperwork, but Ithink that you as the current owner have a right to do this, while me or Mr. Owens do not. Unless you give us some written permission we can take to the Council ourselves, if that's feasible."

"I'm only so-so in the library; any authority, perhaps a written recommendation from the house's owner, may be helpful." Norman smiled, attempting to pour oil upon the conversation's choppy waters. "Rest assured, Mr. Jordan, we're the ones for the job.

"Physical experience is my preferred method, too, Ms. Carmichael; is it better to be untainted by supposed knowledge?--we should discuss our plan together."

Jordan suppresses his growing sense of disquiet.

"Of course I understand that these things are not simple. I have a contact at the Mayor's press office who might be able to smooth things for you if you wish to utilize the archives of the Boston Globe. I'll get on to him today and I should be able to get his response by tomorrow. He carries some degree of clout and he owes me a favor so the 'paper should be amenable. I know that some of the recent events were reported by them, so I imagine that there might be more from preceding years. That might give you a good idea as to the history of the house and what might have happened, more so than a list of names of the owners."

"Thank you. Ms. Carmichael, anything else?"

"I don't have any more questions for now... I think we should get our gear and pay a first visit to the house.

Mr. Jordan, will you give us keys to the house?"

OOC:   What time is it now?

Outside Mr. Jordan's office:

Norman puffed his cheeks and then exhaled slowly. "An unusual fellow--Mr. Jordan. You okay, Ms. Carmichael? You seemed to be a little cross in there."

Jordan opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a bunch of keys. As he sorts through them he says, looking at a clock on the wall, “Are you sure you want to go today? Its 12.30, so it will be dark in about 5 hours. There’s no power at the house so you would need flashlights. Ah, here it is”.

He hands the key to Norman and gets up and walks to the door. “I’ll get on to the paper to see about that letter”.

OOC:   I didn't see your post Tabs - maybe they just need to finish up with Jordan first?

"Even if we don't stay the night today, we can at least make ourselves familiar with the layout. And get a first impression. Then return tomorrow in the morning."

She says goodbye to Mr. Jordan and joins Norman outside. The explorer clearly has something on his mind.

Tabs wrote:Norman puffed his cheeks and then exhaled slowly. "An unusual fellow--Mr. Jordan. You okay, Ms. Carmichael? You seemed to be a little cross in there."

"I think it was rather he who was cross. Upset, even. 'I'm paying you to do the job, so I don't have to do anything', when I only asked for a perfectly logical thing, at least that's what it seemed to me - a permission of sorts, a paper that says that we are acting on his behalf.

The story of the family and their children did upset me, though. But I'll manage."

"Hmmm. Potentially we'll be doing a huge financial favour for him." Norman left it at that, his brow was furrowed as he wondered about Mr. Jordan.

"Let's get our first impression." He held up an arm to signal to the passing traffic, "Taxi!"