A longing to see Miss Weisman
brought me to her home at
Pulaski Bklyn. I enjoyed
seeing her again after a lapse
of nearly 2 years took a long
walk with her conversing about
days gone by. I invited her
to join me at the banquet of
the Camp this Sat.

On my way home in the Trolley
Tillie that once worked with
me about 8 years ago in a
neckwear [shop], came over to me
while telling me that she was
engaged she also told of a
great love she felt for me until
she met her present fiance,
She said she would live on
bread and water and in a
small room just to be with me

[continues on unused portion of previous page]

but she never dared to tell me

She is still pretty and in a
moment of excitement I could
not help taking her in my
arms and kissing her, that
was on the Plaza, it looked to me
inviting. (This was the first and last kiss for her)
This is really the first time a
woman ever told of her great love
for me. If I had only known.

————

Matt’s Notes

One more time:

A longing to see Miss Weisman brought me to her home at Pulaski, Brooklyn. I enjoyed seeing her again after a lapse of nearly 2 years. Took a long walk with her, conversing about
days gone by. I invited her to join me at the banquet of the Camp this Saturday.

On my way home in the trolley, Tillie, that once worked with me about 8 years ago in a neckwear shop, came over to me while telling me that she was engaged. She also told of a great love she felt for me until she met her present fiance. She said she would live on bread and water and in a small room just to be with me, but she never dared to tell me.

She is still pretty, and in a moment of excitement I could not help taking her in my arms and kissing her. That was on the Plaza. It looked to me inviting. (This was the first and last kiss for her.) This is really the first time a woman ever told of her great love for me.

If I had only known.

—————–

New York can pull these pranks like no other city. Papa’s already wistful over his visit with an old girlfriend, wondering what went wrong, wondering if he’d ever find someone. That would be hard enough work for anyone. Certainly the last thing he now needs is for a woman who he hasn’t seen in eight years to confess her secret love for him and at the same time tell him there’s nothing to be done about it since she’s engaged. All this on a trolley car headed for Manhattan — a few more moments and they’ll be back to their irrevocably separate lives. So, a kiss, and for one heady moment they hide from everything they’ve missed and from everything they ever will miss.

Why did he kiss her? Had he loved her too? Or was she just a substitute for Miss Weisman? How many times did he think back on that kiss in later years? Did she carry it with her, too, turning to it again and again, retreating to the memory when life’s compromises overwhelmed her?

It all feels like something out of a (silent) movie, as these moments often do, especially in New York where they happen in public, among people, in front of soaring backdrops. And here’s Papa, looking the part:

The view (presumably from Cadman Plaza) might have looked something like this:

At least his story has a happy ending. Papa, this is you:

—————–

Image Credit: New York from Williamsburg Bridge, 1920. Library of Congress # LC-D4-73392