My business acumen attracted the attention of more than condescending investors. Bernard Adelman was looking for an in with the new transportation systems. At first, he just seemed to be one of those aforementioned "old boys." Not being a moron, it didn't take long for me to figure out that there was something not quite right with my new acquaintance. Being before the popularity of vampire fiction, that wasn't my first thought. My first instinct was that he was a con man of some sort. Too many things about him just didn't add up.
When Bernard realized that I was beginning to catch on, he threw away pretense and made me his Childe. It was purely a business transaction between us, my loyalty and knowledge for eternal life. He chose Embrace over Ghouling, as my business interests required me to be away from him for months at a time. I accepted the offer, as I had long since given up on religious salvation. I already knew I was going to Hell, having broken a large number of the Commandments. There's that whole "Thou Shalt Not Steal," "Honor Thy Mother and Father," and "Thou Shalt Not Covet" business. I was also sure that people had died, as a result my actions and deals.
For a member of Clan Ventrue, I had an extremely brief Childehood. Bernard kept my lessons short and to the point. I learnt how to feed and how to create a Ghoul. Due to Conor's closeness to me, he was my first Ghoul. Bernard didn't like me having someone with that level of access without the bond. Unknown to my Sire, I did secretly give Conor a choice. I couldn't force something like that on my longest friend. Luckily, he chose to stay with me. Bernard did teach me the structure of Clan and Sect, so that I could navigate them carefully. To this day, neither holds overly much interest to me. I like things that move and nothings more static than Clan Ventrue, except maybe the Camarilla.
Realizing that holding me to him would hurt my business interests, Bernard released me to my own devices and the Westward expansion. With my release came it's own challenges. Most Kindred are not designed for travel. There's a reason that it was largely left to a couple of specific Clans, for most of our existence. Conor got the unpleasant job of lugging me around. Luckily, I'd handled my business through correspondence and middle men before. This meant that my financial affairs suffered little to no disruption. I did have to learn to tinker with my machines by lamplight. Some of the best help I received in adapting myself and my business actually came from outside of my Clan. Another Bernard came into my life. Bernard Kellen, an Elder of his Clan, was also fascinated with the rails. He was building South and I was building West. As we weren't in direct competition, he helped me out.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Mortal Years - America
Our trip across the Atlantic was largely uneventful. Conor did meet David Bangle, an odd little English prestidigitator. David had “earned” his travel money through the “largess” of others. His tendency to seek such largess was why he was fleeing England. Apparently, David had the intent to seek such largess from me and was bragging about his intentions amongst the poor Irish. David assumed that the poor Irish would like to see gentry like me “get my due.” Conor took exception to this and “corrected” David, aiming him at a new target. I met an equally odd character. A Welshman named Bran Cadogan kept "welcoming me to the masquerade." As we weren't in fancy dress, his reference was completely lost on me. I had no idea what he meant until several years later.
New York came as quite a shock to us Irish. Our idealistic dreams were quickly dashed by "Irish Need Not Apply" signs and Americans attempting to rob us of our time and money. David's experience wasn't as unpleasant, as an Englishman, he was much more welcome than we were. Conor wouldn't accept my money, so took odd jobs to earn his keep. These ranged from a short stint in the fire department to fist fighting for prize money. I had the advantages of some money, an education and being Protestant. Conor had a some more run ins with David, but they gradually became more amicable. The Englishman was getting himself nicely established as a stage performer and had a few cons on the side.
The United States was a few years behind England in railroad advancement, but ahead of Ireland. Railroad companies were still scrambling for start up capital, so I invested. My investments paid off well and I in turn invested more. My stolen rents quickly grew into a tidy sum. The developers thought it odd a woman would have a business mind, but were more than happy to take my money for their projects. My only hassle was with the other investors. They refused my admittance to their "men's clubs" and would treat me with condescension. I didn't mind. I got around dealing with their foolishness by hiring good looking young men as my stand-ins. Nobody met face to face with me until after passing through my Irish.
They could play their games, while I focused on the bottom line and learning the actual machinery. This meant that my profits and knowledge grew even faster. The only game I played was to ensure that Conor always had a job with the railroad, even when he agitated against the foremen. He never knew at the time, but has hopefully since figured out, that I paid more than one policeman off.
New York came as quite a shock to us Irish. Our idealistic dreams were quickly dashed by "Irish Need Not Apply" signs and Americans attempting to rob us of our time and money. David's experience wasn't as unpleasant, as an Englishman, he was much more welcome than we were. Conor wouldn't accept my money, so took odd jobs to earn his keep. These ranged from a short stint in the fire department to fist fighting for prize money. I had the advantages of some money, an education and being Protestant. Conor had a some more run ins with David, but they gradually became more amicable. The Englishman was getting himself nicely established as a stage performer and had a few cons on the side.
The United States was a few years behind England in railroad advancement, but ahead of Ireland. Railroad companies were still scrambling for start up capital, so I invested. My investments paid off well and I in turn invested more. My stolen rents quickly grew into a tidy sum. The developers thought it odd a woman would have a business mind, but were more than happy to take my money for their projects. My only hassle was with the other investors. They refused my admittance to their "men's clubs" and would treat me with condescension. I didn't mind. I got around dealing with their foolishness by hiring good looking young men as my stand-ins. Nobody met face to face with me until after passing through my Irish.
They could play their games, while I focused on the bottom line and learning the actual machinery. This meant that my profits and knowledge grew even faster. The only game I played was to ensure that Conor always had a job with the railroad, even when he agitated against the foremen. He never knew at the time, but has hopefully since figured out, that I paid more than one policeman off.
Mortal Years - Ireland
My family and early childhood were very unremarkable. I was the youngest of 8 children, 3 boys and 5 girls. Father was a landholder of more than modest means in County Tipperary. Unlike many landholders, he chose to live on his land amongst the tenants. There was no charity or camaraderie in this decision. He just did not trust them. The only reason he allowed his children to play with the Catholic children was because there were no other children in the area. He did prefer we play with the children of the household servants to the children of the tenants. Father thought of his tenants as “untrustworthy, ignorant, Papists.”
I much preferred to play with my brothers’ toys than with the girls’ toys. As the youngest, I was indulged in this and it was ignored. My interests weren't so much in the masculine or military. I loved the machines, especially the model boats and trains. None of my brothers would play due to our age gap. My sisters didn't understand my interest in boys’ things. Neither were any of the servants’ children were close to my age. Despite my father’s admonishments, I found my playmates amongst our Catholic tenants.
There was one boy in particular, Conor O'Keeffe ,that I spent my time with. I shared my toys and learning with him, in exchange for him chasing off bullies and teaching me how to “rough it.” My father’s preference for English language and culture meant that I was largely ignorant of the legends and music of my own people. Conor taught me these “heathen” stories and songs. I even managed to learn some Irish language. It was amongst my father’s detested tenants, that I became fiercely Irish.
As I got older, my father discovered that I had a head for numbers. His only frustration with this was the fact that I was a girl. None of his sons seemed interested in the family business. They all wanted to run off and join the East India Company. My brothers wanted nothing more than to have grand adventures and explore the world. Oddly, none of them ever left the British Isles.
Father put me to work helping to keep the books. When he let me hire an errand boy, I immediately picked my old chum Conor. The blight had hurt his family and they had no real income. What I could pay Conor helped cover his family’s rent. Father was just as heartless as any landholder when it came to his bottom line and he did evict those tenants who couldn’t pay up. I didn’t want to lose my best friend.
Conor and I both got caught up in the rumblings of rebellion. The Repeal Association was splitting apart over the issue of armed revolt. We both supported the Young Irelanders’ stand that Irish Nationalism came before religion and that armed revolt was the only way to remove the British. If we didn’t remove the British, their supported system of landlords would starve the populace.
We joined as the Young Irelanders marched through the countryside of Tipperary, to The Commons outside of Ballingarry. We had to sneak away from Father’s land, as he would have locked me up for the very idea of joining such a thing. Neither of us was decently armed. Conor’s shillelagh didn’t count. A club, even a fancy one, doesn’t do much in a gunfight. We didn’t contribute much, other than to be two more bodies hiding from the bullets of the policemen.
Since neither of us fired upon the police or were leaders, we were let go with nothing more than harsh words. The police did report my involvement to my Father, though. His anger knew no bounds. I was immediately confined to the house. My father also had Conor was fired and his family evicted. This was when I was officially done with my Father and his Anglicized O’Dwyer ways. I resolved to resume our ancestral name of Ó Duibhir, escape my Father and build my own enterprise in America. If I had to, I would personally fund the end of British rule of Ireland. Ah, the rashness of youth.
I spent the next few months building up a secret cash of money and supplies. My opportunity came when Father had finished receiving his rents and was preparing to travel. After he had counted and put away the rents, I took them for my own. Not knowing that his satchel was full of newspaper, Father left for his multi-day journey to deposit the rents into the bank. As soon as he was gone, I took my supplies and left.
Having stayed in contact with Conor through secret notes, I knew where he and his family were. Disguised in the clothing of a servant, I joined them. He was pretty angry with me; not for them getting evicted, for running away from my place of privilege. When I shared my insane scheme with him, Conor confided that he too was thinking of going to America. He wanted to go there to find work and send money home to his family.
Being proud people, they refused any offer of charity. Conor even insisted on working off the cost of his ship ticket to America. He refused to take anything more than 3rd Class. I did get us onto a higher class of ship, though. I did not want to take one of the coffin ships. Conor also told me that there was no way I could pass for normal amongst the people in 3rd Class. Since 1st Class would attract far too much attention and waste too much of the money, I went 2nd Class.
My Father discovered the missing money, as my ship was leaving. The authorities never associated the Ríognach Ó Duibhir on the ship’s manifest with Regina O’Dwyer. It was their loss for never learning any Irish.
I much preferred to play with my brothers’ toys than with the girls’ toys. As the youngest, I was indulged in this and it was ignored. My interests weren't so much in the masculine or military. I loved the machines, especially the model boats and trains. None of my brothers would play due to our age gap. My sisters didn't understand my interest in boys’ things. Neither were any of the servants’ children were close to my age. Despite my father’s admonishments, I found my playmates amongst our Catholic tenants.
There was one boy in particular, Conor O'Keeffe ,that I spent my time with. I shared my toys and learning with him, in exchange for him chasing off bullies and teaching me how to “rough it.” My father’s preference for English language and culture meant that I was largely ignorant of the legends and music of my own people. Conor taught me these “heathen” stories and songs. I even managed to learn some Irish language. It was amongst my father’s detested tenants, that I became fiercely Irish.
As I got older, my father discovered that I had a head for numbers. His only frustration with this was the fact that I was a girl. None of his sons seemed interested in the family business. They all wanted to run off and join the East India Company. My brothers wanted nothing more than to have grand adventures and explore the world. Oddly, none of them ever left the British Isles.
Father put me to work helping to keep the books. When he let me hire an errand boy, I immediately picked my old chum Conor. The blight had hurt his family and they had no real income. What I could pay Conor helped cover his family’s rent. Father was just as heartless as any landholder when it came to his bottom line and he did evict those tenants who couldn’t pay up. I didn’t want to lose my best friend.
Conor and I both got caught up in the rumblings of rebellion. The Repeal Association was splitting apart over the issue of armed revolt. We both supported the Young Irelanders’ stand that Irish Nationalism came before religion and that armed revolt was the only way to remove the British. If we didn’t remove the British, their supported system of landlords would starve the populace.
We joined as the Young Irelanders marched through the countryside of Tipperary, to The Commons outside of Ballingarry. We had to sneak away from Father’s land, as he would have locked me up for the very idea of joining such a thing. Neither of us was decently armed. Conor’s shillelagh didn’t count. A club, even a fancy one, doesn’t do much in a gunfight. We didn’t contribute much, other than to be two more bodies hiding from the bullets of the policemen.
Since neither of us fired upon the police or were leaders, we were let go with nothing more than harsh words. The police did report my involvement to my Father, though. His anger knew no bounds. I was immediately confined to the house. My father also had Conor was fired and his family evicted. This was when I was officially done with my Father and his Anglicized O’Dwyer ways. I resolved to resume our ancestral name of Ó Duibhir, escape my Father and build my own enterprise in America. If I had to, I would personally fund the end of British rule of Ireland. Ah, the rashness of youth.
I spent the next few months building up a secret cash of money and supplies. My opportunity came when Father had finished receiving his rents and was preparing to travel. After he had counted and put away the rents, I took them for my own. Not knowing that his satchel was full of newspaper, Father left for his multi-day journey to deposit the rents into the bank. As soon as he was gone, I took my supplies and left.
Having stayed in contact with Conor through secret notes, I knew where he and his family were. Disguised in the clothing of a servant, I joined them. He was pretty angry with me; not for them getting evicted, for running away from my place of privilege. When I shared my insane scheme with him, Conor confided that he too was thinking of going to America. He wanted to go there to find work and send money home to his family.
Being proud people, they refused any offer of charity. Conor even insisted on working off the cost of his ship ticket to America. He refused to take anything more than 3rd Class. I did get us onto a higher class of ship, though. I did not want to take one of the coffin ships. Conor also told me that there was no way I could pass for normal amongst the people in 3rd Class. Since 1st Class would attract far too much attention and waste too much of the money, I went 2nd Class.
My Father discovered the missing money, as my ship was leaving. The authorities never associated the Ríognach Ó Duibhir on the ship’s manifest with Regina O’Dwyer. It was their loss for never learning any Irish.
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