An Early California “Power Couple,” Mary McIntyre and Romualdo Pacheco supported each another’s careers.
It was March, and Molly was helping her husband pack for the train trip to Washington, D.C. The journey would be amazingly quick. The mere five days coast to coast was a feat thought impossible only a decade earlier. Since this was only a brief two-week session of Congress, Molly and Maybella wouldn’t accompany him this time. They’d wait and join him for the longer three-month session to be held in the autumn.
Romualdo was one of four Californians elected to the United States Congress, and the first Californio. No one could deny his popularity with the voters, and Molly was deeply proud of his success. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about her own desires. Dreams she’d set aside.
She tucked a pair of freshly laundered socks into one corner of his valise and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I met Matilda Bancroft at the Women’s Guild luncheon yesterday,” she said. “She told me how busy she’s been helping Hubert with his history project. Her days are fully occupied with research, writing, and editing, and she still has the children and household to manage.”
Romualdo looked up from gathering his papers. “Bancroft is lucky to have her. He means to publish the history of the entire Pacific Coast and needs all the help he can get. It will take years for him to finish.”
“Matilda is a gifted writer. She could accomplish great things on her own if she ever had the chance.”
It wasn’t resentment she felt. Only recognition of an accomplished woman, one who chose to use her considerable gifts to bolster a brilliant husband.
Romualdo added the papers to his valise and turned to Molly. “What about you? I hope you have not given up writing.”
“Not entirely. But I don’t believe I’ll ever have success as a playwright.”
“You are far too talented to give up so easily,” he said. “Once you set your mind to it, querida, you can accomplish anything.”
Molly smiled softly and handed him another carefully folded broadcloth shirt. She thought of how Matilda helped her husband write his history while letting her own stories remain unwritten.
“Uncle Louis used to say, ‘Never give up. Anything is possible.’”
“He was right,” Romualdo said. He closed the latch on his valise with a soft click. “Remember, whatever you decide, you have my full support.”
She hesitated, her eyes full of mischief. “To be honest, I actually do have something in mind. It’s a comedy.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m thinking of writing a farce, a comedy of errors with identical twins and mixed-up lovers. There might be a pompous general who’s dreadfully opposed to his children’s wishes. Maybe a pair of foolish women who can’t stop laughing and crying, and perhaps a wife with too many opinions. Purely fictitious, of course.”
He grinned. “You know how I love comedies. Perhaps one day we will open a theater of our own. We could showcase your plays. What do you think?”
“Let me finish this one first,” she said with a laugh. “But seriously, I’ve had another idea. You know how long I’ve dreamed of living in New York City. Now is the perfect time. I could rent a small apartment near the Broadway theaters. Maybella could take dance classes and I’d be able to write without too many interruptions. I know the city would inspire me. When you aren’t needed in Washington, you could come and stay with us.”
Romualdo tugged at his beard and quietly considered her words.
“I know it’s a bold proposal,” she continued. “But I fear time is passing me by. New York is the heart of the theater world, and I could learn so much, maybe finally see my work performed on Broadway.”
“New York,” he said slowly, half to himself. “Very well, we will find a way. Yours is an excellent plan, querida. Excellent indeed.”
