The Mysteries of Mary Lupton, Part 2: Some Notes

East 14th St. at 3rd Ave. [NYPL]

What I have for you as a follow-up to the story of Mary Lupton's amnesia is really a series of notes for a longer piece. The people in the Lupton case are both fascinating and elusive (like so many so-called ordinary Victorians). In other words, I can tell you a little bit more - what I know so far.

Mary Frances Smith was born about 1866 in New York City, on East 14th Street between 2nd and 3rd, according to one of her uncles. She was the daughter of Patrick Henry and Catherine/Kate (Plunkett) Smith, according to her marriage license. You can imagine what it is like trying to find a particular Smith family in the US Census - especially in New York City. Pretty much impossible. In fact, the only reason I found a slight trace of Patrick Henry later in his life was because he identified himself as a plumber, and moved to Boston - after having moved a few other places, too.

But that is getting ahead of the story.

Mary Frances, known in her family as Mamie, lived with both parents - and probably some siblings - until about 1879, when Patrick Henry left his family. He told a reporter in 1891 that he went west for health reasons, but the truth is probably that he just abandoned his family, plain and simple (or, as was suggested in one news story in 1898, because he had killed someone and had to leave New York in a hurry).

Meanwhile, Mary and her mother moved in with Mary's uncle, a fish dealer named William Cartwright. When her mother died, Mary stayed on with the Cartwrights until about 1884 or so, when she left or was thrown out of the house; she may have been staying out at night and being a bit wild, since she was known to have done that as a young married woman. She moved to a boarding house, probably also in Manhattan, and it was there that she met a salesman named Edward Fanning Lupton*.

Mary and Edward probably would not have got married were it not for Edward's lawyer, Max Eller. Eller seems to have arbitrated several of their quarrels and then in October 1886 became so sick of this that he called them both into his Manhattan office. Mary and Edward arrived to find that Eller had invited a minister, too. Eller insisted that they resolve their differences by getting married right there and then.

This peculiar solution proved to be a huge mistake. Soon after their daughter Florence was born in 1887, the Luptons separated. They were divorced in 1888, and Mary left with their servant but without their baby, Florence.

Kansas City, MO [NYPL]

Lupton then apparently took Florence to Kansas City. Mary went to Kansas City in 1890 - I don't know why it took her two years - and "stole" Florence. They went back to New York, where Mary sued Edward for alimony. She won $4 a week plus $50 legal fees. Edward and Mary both complained of cruel treatment. She said he was neglectful and abusive, striking her, calling her names and withholding food; Edward said that she was bad-tempered and stayed out late at night, telling him it was none of his business where she was going. Eller represented Edward in the divorce action. He must have regretted having insisted on their marrying.

At some point after returning to New York, Mary was unable to care for Florence, who was sent to board with a Dr. Fontaine and his family. I don't know why Florence could not live with one of Mary's many aunts and uncles in the city, but she didn't. Mary Lupton still owed the Fontaines three years' board for Florence when her amnesia made the newspapers in 1898. This suggests that Mary did not receive the fortune that she seemed about to inherit seven years before, when her long lost father came back into her life.

Tremont St., Boston [NYPL]

In May 1891, Patrick Henry Smith turned up in New York and put an advertisement in the papers for his daughter, one Mary Lupton, wife of Edward. He claimed that he had inherited a fortune from a relative named Eugene Smith and had no relative in the world to share it with. He said that he had two plumber's shops in Boston, one on Tremont Street, and one on Shawmat.

Smith was not a typical Victorian patriarch. Smith, like comedian Jack Benny, insisted that he was only 39 years old - which would have made him only 14 years older than his daughter Mary. As one reporter put it, "he is at least 50, and incoherent." He claimed to be related to the Smiths of Smithtown, Long Island - even though according to the few records I found, he was born in Ireland. And Smith berated the reporters who came to talk to him, insisting that he would not talk - then sat down and rambled for over an hour. I have only just begun trying to find out more about Patrick Henry, and what I do know is so strange and disjointed that I'd better save it for the book chapter. In any case, Smith seems to have faded away again. He may have died in Boston in 1896, still claiming - if this is indeed him - to be 39. Mary either got no money, or spent what little she did receive.

I'm still trying to trace Mary (and Florence) in the years between 1891 and 1898. And also to figure out whether Patrick Henry Smith indeed had to leave New York City in the 1870s because he had murdered someone. But this is certainly more background information than I had been expecting to find with regard to Mary Lupton's bout of amnesia while Christmas shopping in New York in 1898.

*Lupton was born about 1851, and grew up in Williamsburgh. He is also a very distant cousin of mine; we share an ancestor, Rev. Edward Bulkeley (ca 1540-1619/20) of Odell, Bedfordshire, from whom several Long Island and New England families descend. Lupton descends from Edward's daughter Dorcas, through his James line; I descend from Dorcas' sister Martha, through Elizabeth (Moore) Hicks, born about 1679.

The Mysteries of Mary Lupton, Part 1

NYPL Digital Gallery

I always enjoy combining history with genealogy, and trying to track down the people in a particular long-ago news story. This story takes place in the winter of 1898 in New York City, and it "served to bring out an odd tale of the seamy side of life," as the New York Times man put it, delicately.

It all began when a woman living at the Hotel Metropole (at 147 West 43rd St., near Times Square) contacted the police and asked for their help. She told them that she had forgotten her name and where she lived. She asked if anyone had come to them looking for a missing woman.

The police took her to St. Vincent's Hospital (at 11th St and 7th Ave.) and there a man showed up with his 11 year old daughter, saying that they were her husband and child. But no one seems to have taken his name and he went off with the little girl again. If this sounds confusing, that's because it was. It will get more confusing, believe me.

A second man went to the police that evening and said that he was her husband. He said her name was Mary Smith, daughter of a man named P.H. Smith who "was concerned in a murder here [in New York] several years ago, and had to leave the city." He also mentioned a Dr. Fontaine who lived at 109 East 40th St. The police went to talk to Dr. Fontaine who said the woman's name was Mary Lupton, and that for 4 years her daughter Florence had been boarded with him and his family.

NYPL

Soon after this the phone rang at Police Headquarters at 3am and a woman asked (again) if anyone had been inquiring for a missing woman. The phone operator put her through to "Roundsman Brady in the Bureau of Information." She asked Brady if  "anyone had inquired for a woman thirty-two years old, with dark hair and blue eyes, who wears a sealskin jacket, red waist, black cloth skirt, and a black velvet hat trimmed with ostrich feathers."

Well, no, said Brady, they hadn't. Mary (for of course it was her) told him that she'd been describing herself. She said she didn't know her name or address. She would like to know them. Brady told her she'd better come down in person. She did. She was "richly dressed" and had quite a bit of jewelry on. Brady questioned her and said she seemed quite normal (though nervous) in all respects except for not knowing her name and home address.

Mary said she'd gone Christmas shopping on 23rd Street. She took a "cable car" to get there and as she was wandering around a store she simply forgot who she was. She said "I walked in the streets for hours, looking in vain for a familiar face to tell me who I was." Then she started crying and admitted to having taken some cocaine that day, for her nerves - it was then a legal medicinal substance. Brady called St. Vincent's. They sent an ambulance and a Dr. Maloney.

Normal College, NYC [NYPL]

Dr. Maloney talked to her for awhile. She recalled at last that her maiden name was Smith. She said her husband was a Wall Street broker. She'd gone to school on West 27th St. and at Normal College (later known as Hunter College). Dr. Maloney gave her "an opiate" (not more cocaine, one hopes) and she got some sleep.

The next morning the man with the young girl visited again and she recognized them. She said she would go home with them although she still did not recall her name. The driver of the carriage they hired later said that they went to an address at 6th Ave. and 37th St.

Mary's husband told the police some interesting things about Mary's "life of recklessness." He said he met her in a boarding house in New York in 1886. She said she had been thrown out of her wealthy uncle Mr. Cartwright's home because of her bad behavior. They married her in 1887, had a child named Florence, and separated shortly after that. He and Florence went to Kansas City; then I guess they divorce, because Mary then sued him for alimony. She got the alimony. Then they reconciled, but that soon failed and she took the baby and went away. He said that Mary "kept up anything but a proper life." It was at this point that she boarded Florence with the Fontaines. The husband also mentioned another uncle of Mary's called John Branigan of 235 East 22nd Street. No one at that address had ever heard of Mary.

Finally, the police went back to talk to the Fontaines. Mrs. Fontaine was home; the doctor was not. Mrs. Fontaine said no child had ever lived with them and anyone who said so "must be crazy." And a jeweler, Mr. Gay, who lived near the address given for Mary's uncle Mr. Cartwright, said he'd never heard of any Smiths or Cartwrights in the neighborhood.

*****
There's a lot to work with in this mysterious story of possible murder, secrets, recklessness, amnesia, disappearing uncles and multiple husbands. And of course I'm just giving you the short version here; in a book chapter there will be plenty of scene-setting and background about places and people.

This will be a two-part story, as far as the blog-post version goes. In the next post, I'll let you know what I found out about Mary Smith Lupton and the secrets of her life. I can't wait to start looking into it. I think this is going to prove most interesting.

Source: "Forgot Name and Address," New York Times, December 18, 1898.