The Band That Played On (11 page)

The likely daughter of Roger Bricoux, Laura Kelsall, in the 1920s.

Is there a possibility that he stayed on in England after his stint at the Grand in Leeds and had a dalliance with Adelaide, who lived with her two brothers and her widowed mother? He did make some oblique comments about his bad behavior and how much strain he put on his parents, but nothing in the letters that have survived makes any mention of getting a girl pregnant. It may be significant that although the birth took place in early March, it was not registered until April 11, the day after the
Titanic
sailed. Did Adelaide take the child to Liverpool or even to Southampton to meet the child’s father before getting the official documentation?

Bricoux’s final chance to communicate with his family before arriving in New York came on March 18 as the ship approached Gibraltar for the second time on the trip. His parents didn’t yet know about the
Titanic
job and he excitedly explained the size and luxury of the much-talked-about vessel. He concluded:

I love this life but I would happily be with you. As for getting married, I will never marry unless it’s to a girl with money because with my tastes . . . I only want “love in silk”
²
or at least “a comfortable home,” not living in attics with the fear of not eating the next day. Ambition? Perhaps. And why not? Something tells me that it is necessary if one is to succeed. Finally, I send all my love. Roger. Write to me on board the
Carpathia
, New York (America).

The
Carpathia
arrived back in New York on Friday, March 29. Bricoux was able to enjoy a weekend in the city before boarding the
Mauretania
on Tuesday April 2 with Theo Brailey and meeting Wallace Hartley for the first time. While sailing to Liverpool he wrote what would be his final letter to his father.

Dear Papa,

You may find that my letter is delayed but that won’t be my fault because I have been on board the Mauretania for ten days [
sic
] and haven’t had a chance to post it. At last I come to the point which is to wish you a happy anniversary [April 9 was their wedding anniversary] and good health. Nissotti wrote and told me that you were suffering a bit but I hope it’s nothing serious and that my letter will find you well. If not, let it bring you health. The boat’s vibration is so annoying that I can’t write. Just think, we are doing 400 nautical miles in 24 hours, a world record! [A mile is 1,837 meters.] Five days from New York to Liverpool. I will write more on board the Titanic. Love to Maman and you. Best wishes, Roger, on board the
Titanic
, Southampton, England. I am counting on a letter from you in New York.

5
“A
N
E
XCEPTIONALLY
G
OOD
P
ERFORMER
ON THE
P
IANO.
”

F
amily legend says that William “Theo” Brailey had been told by his father, Ronald Brailey, not to sail on the
Titanic
, but he was determined to go anyway. Like Wallace Hartley, Theo was recently engaged and planning to give up the sea, but until then he wanted to take advantage of every opportunity to travel. He would have known that shipwreck was always a danger, but the
Titanic
was supposed to be the last word in safety.

Normally such parental warnings could be dismissed as signs of over-protectiveness but Mr. Brailey wasn’t like that. He’d let his son join the army at fifteen and Theo had hardly been back home since. His fears were probably connected with his profession because he was an established clairvoyant who was well known in spiritualist circles and had even been featured in the national press.

Spiritualism had grown in popularity during the late nineteenth century, just as traditional religion was being questioned by modern science. Spiritualists believed in an afterlife not merely as an article of faith, but through experiences with what they believed to be the spirits of the dead. Thus spiritualism appeared to satisfy the demand of modern science for proof and the requirement of religion for comfort. Spiritualists offered reassurance of reunions with departed loved ones, while at the same time claiming that their encounters could be verified by impartial observers.

The Christian church opposed spiritualism, pointing out Bible verses that forbade contact with the spirits of the dead.
¹
Spiritualists were therefore keen to demonstrate the compatibility of Christianity and spiritualism. It was possible, they argued, to be a faithful church member yet to attend séances. Spiritualism, they said, was not an alternative to religion but a companion. Their best-loved example of this harmony was the newspaper editor, social campaigner, and Nobel Peace Prize nominee W. T. Stead, who was a spiritualist but also a faithful member of his local Congregational church. Ironically, he would be a passenger on the
Titanic
.

Spiritualism naturally attracted charlatans and fraudsters. The hunger to witness the miraculous frequently clouded the judgments of people anxious to hear good news from “the other side.” In 1906 a supposed psychic named Charles Eldred, who claimed to be able to conjure up visible spirits and produced photographs of himself with various emanations, was exposed as a fraud who used theatrical props concealed in his specially made chair. The person brought in to reveal his chicanery was not a skeptic, however, but Ronald Brailey. Inside the arm of Eldred’s chair, he found a head made of marl (a claylike substance), a flesh-colored mask, six fragments of silk, three beards, two wigs, and a metal frame. An account of the exposé was run in the
Daily Mirror
.

Ronald Brailey.

The same year the
Daily Express
engaged Ronald after a girl’s skeleton was found during an archaeological dig at Avebury near Marlborough. The paper figured that his fabled gifts could be used to tell who the girl was and how she died. Ronald gripped onto a bone and claimed that images of her past life appeared to him. He could see tented structures near Stonehenge and five or six white-bearded druids surrounding the girl. Then one of them lifted a dagger and plunged it into her body in a ritual sacrifice. The
Daily Express
thought it had got its money’s worth out of the “Bayswater seer” and the story was run on the front page.

Two years later Ronald Brailey appeared in the
Daily Mail
after a skeptical reporter watched him in performance at the sixth annual Spiritualists’ Convention held in Finsbury, North London. “Mr Ronald Brailey gave a touch of novelty to his clairvoyance. With a blackboard and a piece of chalk he produced portraits of the spirits he said he saw,” the journalist wrote. He explained further:

As works of art Mr Brailey’s drawings had the superlative merit of leaving much to the imagination. They were outline drawings, dimly but distinctly suggestive of the human profile. They were frequently recognised as indeed seaside silhouettes are by the expectant eye that knows beforehand whom to look for. But to the general view they conveyed less a suggestion of portraiture than an idea that spiritualism has receded into kindergarten stage.

The headline was “Is Spiritualism Declining?”

Within the world of psychics, however, Ronald Brailey enjoyed good standing. In March 1909 he was, for instance, invited to the Dublin home of the writer James Cousins and his pioneering feminist wife, Margaret, who, like their poet friend William Butler Yeats, were curious about psychic phenomena.
²
They wanted to test the clairvoyant’s powers, especially his automatic writing that he claimed to act as a conduit for the messages of the dead. James Cousins remembered:

Brailey sat quietly in a chair looking over Dublin Bay from the windows of our drawing room. When the writing ceased, the clairvoyant said he had not the slightest impression of what was behind it, probably because his attention had been caught by what appeared to be a special event taking place over the hill [Howth] across the water. A procession in archaic costumes circled in the air just above the hill. It was not a joyous procession, but sorrowful. We could throw no light on the phenomenon. Next day’s newspaper announced the death of the aged Earl of Howth, the last of an ancient line of Irish nobility.
³

18 Clarendon Road, Walthamstow, birthplace of William Theodore Brailey.

Theo (back row, center) celebrating Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee in 1897.

William Theodore Brailey was born at 18 Clarendon Road in Walthamstow, Essex, on October 25, 1887. He was the first child for William Richard Brailey (who only started calling himself Ronald in 1902) and his wife, Amy. There was a piano in the home and Theo, as the family called him, and his sisters, Mabel and Lily, were encouraged to play. When they were of school age they were sent to Miriam Geary, a lady who ran a private school with her daughter Elizabeth at their large rambling home on the corner of Clarendon Road and Copeland Road.

Brailey family with Ronald standing second from left and Theo seated (center).

Miriam Geary was a teacher with a special interest in music. She had married a man almost thirty years older. When he died, she turned her house into a school especially for children who’d shown musical ability. A boot repairer named Clifford Buttle, who knew the Brailey family at this time, spoke about Theo’s talent in a 1955 interview. “From the commencement of his education the boy displayed a marked talent for music,” he said. “So much so that he soon outpaced his teacher and as there was no further advancement to be made in Walthamstow, Mr. and Mrs. Brailey, with their family of three, moved to Lancaster Road, Ladbroke Grove, West London.”

Buttle may have been accurate about the musical aptitude, but he was wrong about the reasons for the move to Ladbroke Grove. The Brailey family was living at 36 Merton Road, Walthamstow, in 1902 when Theo left home. They didn’t leave there until 1903, going first to Charlotte Street in London’s West End and then, four months later, to Elgin Crescent in Notting Hill. The move to Lancaster Road wasn’t until 1906, first to 142 and then, in 1910, to a larger three-story house at 71.