Preface Generally, hoarding is not a good thing. But sometimes it can lead to surprising treasures. In the 1970s, writer Sylvia Wright Mitarachi, digging through her ancestors'' belongings in a cluttered attic, came across a couple of trunks that brought the past to life. Her grandmother Kate''s trunk, smelling of violets, contained the usual assortment of lacy dresses, layers of undergarments, hats, family photos, and knickknacks--no big surprises there. But her great-aunt Zina''s trunks overflowed with thousands of yellowing slips of paper, fraying at the edges: a lifetime''s worth of family letters and newspaper articles, neatly clipped and dated, many authored by her. People keep what they value. Zina valued ideas. Sylvia, a novelist, and editor and essayist for Harper''s Bazaar , spent years with these materials, sorting through them, researching the issues of the day, and landing a National Endowment for the Humanities grant to write a manuscript about her great-aunt Zina.
Though Sylvia died before completing her book, a draft remains, as do the original materials, now--thanks to Sylvia--neatly organized and archived at the Schlesinger Library in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Sylvia fixated on Zina--a fascinating character, to be sure--a women''s reformer in the mid 1800s, who challenged established beliefs about a woman''s role and advocated for cooperative housekeeping, improved education for women, and a woman''s parliament to run alongside the men''s houses of government. Zina is the subject of numerous dissertations and essays; that she married logician Charles Sanders Peirce, one of the greatest minds of the century, just added to her mystique. But I came at this project from a different direction, through Zina''s sister Rose. Because of my volunteer work at an animal rescue organization, I knew Rose Fay Thomas as the founder of the Anti-Cruelty Society. That she was also the wife of Chicago Symphony Orchestra conductor and musical legend Theodore Thomas increased my interest. As I dug a little deeper, I discovered another sister, Amy (rhymes with Sammy), who studied with composer Franz Liszt and became a professional musician. They struck me as a real-life Little Women , writing, performing music, and exploring the edges of their restricted female world.
That their father was a clergyman and that they suffered a heartbreaking death within their family, forcing them to ponder the purpose of a women''s life, only strengthened the ties to the Louisa May Alcott classic. Zina''s trunks, gathering dust for decades, opened a door into a forgotten world. Out marched all seven Fay siblings--Zina, Laura, Amy, Kate, Norman, Rose, and Lily--and their parents and spouses, to tell their stories of what life was like in the mid nineteenth century. To be clear, these were not children of privilege. Their father, Reverend Charles Fay, moved the family from parish to parish for years before finally settling into the community of St. Albans, Vermont, not far from the Canadian border. Mother Emily managed the household, which included a small dormitory to house boarding students who attended the private classical school Charles ran to bring in more income. They struggled financially.
Everyone pitched in with cleaning, teaching, cooking, and sewing. Emily grew depressed and died at the age of 39; family lore held that she died of overwork. Her abbreviated life galvanized her daughters, particularly Zina, to want more for women than the daily drudgery of housework. What was the role of a middle-class White woman in the second half of the nineteenth century, coming off of the Civil War and through Reconstruction? Zina brazenly tried to redefine it; Amy sought to broaden the opportunities for women in music; Rose worked within the acceptable confines of the women''s sphere but headed clubs and associations that brought women together and strengthened their sisterhood. And siblings Laura, Kate, and Lily, who chose traditional roles of wife and mother, provided interesting contrast and occasional argument. Along the way, they navigated complicated issues such as slavery, suffrage, temperance, and education for women. The Fay women are a perfect case study in women''s history during a time when the rules and traditions were changing. Of the assorted things I have done in my life, raising two children is, without question, my proudest accomplishment.
Therefore, it pained me to relegate Laura, Kate, and Lily as merely supporting characters for this book, as I so highly value their efforts as mothers. But in terms of what constitutes the unusual, the interesting, the book-worthiness of a life, it was clear that Zina, Amy, and Rose were the key players. Given the plethora of materials available documenting the lives of White men, I had no hesitation about casting Norman as a minor character. As Zina, Amy, Rose, and their sisters were growing up, their feminine role was closely defined. They were supposed to confine themselves to running a household and raising a family, their involvement in the greater community restricted primarily to church activities. The public sector was for the men. But throughout their lives, these three sisters nudged at those limitations. Mostly, they did it in ways that did not challenge the men.
They built up social capital and cultural power behind the scenes, with a smile and in the safe company of other women. In their clubs and activities, they worked in an undefined zone between the spheres that had been delineated for men and women. Their work bridged the gap between Victorian domesticity and Progressive reform. All operated in areas and manners true to their interests and personalities. One was outspoken and brash, one winsome but persistent, and the third gentle yet determined. None were suffragists. Honestly, part of me wishes they had been among those early firebrands. But there was far more to the argument than just pro- or anti-suffrage.
Women''s reform was much broader than just the vote. The Fay women represented a tremendous swath of women, the vast majority, in fact, initially, who did not believe they belonged in the election booth. It takes time to reshape the status quo. Between the extensive family correspondence, other personal materials such as poems and journals, and the numerous works the siblings authored, we have a close-up look at their lives, in their own words. Wherever possible, I have tried to let them speak for themselves. Rather than juggling multiple life stories simultaneously, I chose to break the book into sections for each of the three sisters. Because Zina, the eldest daughter, did the bulk of her reform work relatively early in her life, and Rose, as one of the youngest siblings, did not find her stride until many years later, there is a natural chronological flow to the story, Amy fitting nicely in between. Furthermore, because they worked together on certain projects, there are areas that neatly overlap.
It is not a perfect organizer: on occasion, the narrative circles back around to provide updates on what the other family members were doing. Family dynamics are a curious thing. It is interesting to watch the Fays react to their siblings'' successes and failures, grow proud or resentful, and stretch away from each other only to eventually swing back around. Because of financial instability, many of them lived together at various points in their lives, or ran boarding houses together to make ends meet. And, despite differences in opinion or hurt feelings, the siblings were there to help each other through the uncertainties of life and indignities of old age. Change is not tidy. Change is not a straight line nor a steady pace. These three sisters remind us that it often takes many different voices and assorted strategies to gain traction.
By the end of their lives, all three had moved their movements forward significantly, mirroring nationwide gains in rights for women. We might do well to ask ourselves who is playing these roles for women today. This story stretches from the East Coast to Germany to Chicago and back east again. It details the beginnings of the Anti-Cruelty Society of Chicago, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and the creation of Orchestra Hall, though it is not intended to be a thorough history of these organizations. It involves the Fireside Poets, the academic elite of Cambridge, and several of the world''s greatest scientists and musicians. But really, it is the story of three sisters who tried their best to make the world a bit better, in their own various, imperfect ways. [end of excerpt].