If you’ve been to the Great Hall at Planting Fields, you’ve seen Caroline’s portrait. Draped in diaphanous fabrics, she poses with an air of quiet confidence. By her unruffled expression and lavish adornments, including rings, pearls, and the orchid fastened to her chest, Caroline’s wealth and pedigree are on full display. But the woman herself was far more complex than this two-dimensional counterpart.
A Voice of Her Own
Born in 1877, Caroline Ligon Graham was the eldest daughter of Alexander Hutchinson Graham, a descendent of one of Texas’ oldest families, and Cornelia Ligon, whose father was the Governor of Alabama and a member of the Alabama House of Representatives.
Caroline as a child, posing with a little straw purse, locket, and heeled shoes, c. 1882.
Like many affluent girls in the late 19th century, Caroline spent her youth in elite girls’ schools and dance classes, while traveling the United States (and Europe) extensively with relatives. Notably, she trained as a soprano vocalist for several years in Washington D.C. under the tutelage of Professor John Bischoff, the famed blind organist of the capital’s First Congregational Church.
By the time she returned to Austin, Texas for her 1897 society debut, Caroline was by all accounts highly accomplished, charming, and with a singing voice “which for richness, has but few equals in the South.”
Young Caroline (bottom right) poses with friends, c. 1890.
It is no wonder that she soon bagged one of the season’s most eligible bachelors, E. Dick Slaughter. One of the heirs of a Texas cattle baron, Dick’s name and exploits were frequently splashed across the society pages as a well-dressed social butterfly about town. He was an active alumnus of the University of Texas, a member of Sigma Chi, and a dedicated Freemason. How Carrie, as she was then called, and Dick met is unknown, but both were highly sought-after matches at the turn of the century. Rumors of their engagement prompted both admiration and jealousy:
“Mr. E. Dick Slaughter, the Beau Brummel of Dallas, and who was once somewhat a leader of Austin society, having spent five years here attending the State University is visiting friends in the city. Mr. Slaughter is still a particular favorite, with Austin’s swell set, especially the female portion of it, and if the male portion does not love him so well, it is probably because the rumor has quietly gone forth that he is, ere long, to transplant one of Austin’s fairest flowers to a home on the banks of the classic Trinity. He is a young bachelor of wealth and social prominence, is connected with a big religious journal published in Dallas, and if the rumor of his reported marriage to an Austin belle be true, then congratulations on both sides will not be amiss.” – San Antonio Express News, 1899
E. Dick Slaughter was a dedicated Freemason at the Tannehill Masonic Lodge, which still operates in Dallas, Texas, 1905.
They married in mid-January of the year 1900, in a packed ceremony at Austin’s oldest church, St. David’s Episcopal, followed by a reception at the Graham family’s town mansion. That same night, the newlyweds departed on a train bound for New York, the starting point of their extended honeymoon. And two years later, Caroline and Dick were blessed with a child, a beloved son named after his father.
A Wife and Mother’s Heartbreak
E. Dick Slaughter, Jr. was his parent’s pride and joy. Intelligent, charming, and handsome, Dick Jr. grew up the perfect example of a young gentleman in the early 20th century. As a child, he attended the Terrill Preparatory School in Dallas, Texas, then the Hotchkiss Preparatory School in Connecticut. From there he went to Princeton University, where he contributed so prolifically to the campus publications that he was awarded a Tiger, the university’s insignia of recognition. In the fall of 1921, Dick Jr. entered Colorado University, where he pledged for Chi Psi and discovered his passion for teaching.
However, not all was rosy. On November 1, 1926, Caroline and Dick Sr. divorced. There is very little information available to explain why this occurred. All we know is that Caroline remarried a month or so later, on December 4, 1926, to our very own W.R. Coe, whose wife, Mai, had passed two years prior. It’s easy to assume the worst of all parties involved; drama and scandal were just as prevalent a hundred years ago as they are today, but it is easier to forget that figures of a hundred years ago were just people, too.
A newspaper article announcing W.R. and Caroline’s “surprise” marriage, soon after Caroline’s divorce. The Brooklyn Daily Times, December 12, 1926. Newspapers.com.
But what of the Coe children’s stepbrother, Dick Jr.? Unfortunately, his story has a genuinely tragic end. While attending Colorado University, Dick Jr. fell ill. We can track the progression of his illness through letters between W.R. and second son Robert, who was serving his first year as a diplomat in Porto Alegre, Brazil. W.R. kept Bob updated on all of the family’s news, from Natalie’s presentation at the court of St. James to Henry’s latest business ventures. Clearly, Dick Jr. was just as much a part of the family, and though these letters were written by W.R., not Caroline, Caroline’s worry and devastation for her only son are obvious in every line.
According to the letters, a high temperature quickly snowballed into a stint at a facility in Colorado Springs called the Cragmor Sanatorium. Since the 19th century, Colorado’s dry climate and fresh mountain air were considered restorative if not curative in the face of the ongoing tuberculosis epidemic. We now know that there was some truth to this, as thin, cool air alleviated symptoms of the disease and often extended patients’ lives. At the peak of its reputation, Colorado was home to seventeen tuberculosis sanatoriums. But not all sanatoriums were alike.
Cragmor was opened in 1905 by Dr. Edward Solly, who himself suffered from tuberculosis-or consumption, as it was then known. At the center of his medical philosophy was exposure to the outdoors, and so he built Cragmor along Austin’s Bluffs, facing Pikes Peak and Garden of the Gods. Based on the view alone, Cragmor was a cut above other tuberculosis hospitals. Later owners marketed the sanatorium to cater to wealthy and famous patients from all over the country, cultivating an environment of luxury for the tuberculosis sufferers.
“The rich man who contracts tuberculosis has no place else to go where he can have the personal care and attention of medical experts. There are sanatoria aplenty for the poor, but not for the wealthy.” – Dr. Alexis Forster, c. 1910
Cragmor Sanatorium patients pose outside, looking remarkably healthy and happy, c. 1930s. S2011.21, Colorado Springs Pioneer Museum.
The main building comprised 28 unique suites, each equipped with a screened-in sleeping porch to prolong patients’ exposure to the fresh air. There was a large dining hall with an open fireplace, two kitchens, refrigeration units, and a cold storage plant. A stable of horses provided exercise for patients cleared to ride, and beautifully landscaped lawns and gardens provided beautiful sights to amble through. Patients had picnics and parties on the lawn and rooftop, played cards, and there were even rumors of a speakeasy in one of the cottages. The quality and quantity of meals was legendary, served on monogrammed plates and linens. It earned the nickname “Sun Palace,” and this is when Dick Jr. was admitted. It sounds like a party, and sometimes it was. But not everyone at the Sun Palace survived.
W.R.’s letters to Bob chronicle a rollercoaster of doctor’s opinions. In one month, doctors are hopeful bout Dick Jr.’s condition, expecting the good-humored young man to make a full recovery. But a mere three months later, his condition is described as “serious,” and Caroline’s anxieties jump off the page. She and W.R. canceled their annual Europe trip to spend indefinite time at Cragmor.
Dick Jr. died at 27 years old. His old fraternity, rocked by the loss, opened a memorial library in his name, complete with a portrait in his name-small print reveals that this memorial library was funded entirely by “Mrs. W.R. Coe.” Old friends and professors wrote and read beautiful eulogies, recalling funny stories and heartwarming moments in which Dick Jr. showed his big heart. Even the notoriously curt and low-on-compliments W.R. described Dick Jr. as “about as fine a type of boy as I know of.”
A photograph of Dick Slaughter, Jr. printed in a program for the dedication of the Chi Psi Dick Slaughter Jr. Memorial Library, 1930. Planting Fields Foundation Archives.
Understandably, Caroline was deeply depressed. W.R. dutifully reports on her mental state to Bob through the next several months and even shares that she started seeing a new doctor doing a type of “psychology,” which seems like an early form of talk therapy, which W.R. acknowledges is helping her “and other ladies in her circumstances.”
A section of a letter written from W.R. Coe to his son Robert Coe on December 6, 1929. Planting Fields Foundation Archives.
Caroline, Considered
This blog post is our attempt to deepen our understanding Caroline, rather than pigeon-hole her as the “wicked stepmother” many wish to assume she was. The Planting Fields Foundation Archives has countless examples of the Coe children’s fondness for their stepmother, and Caroline’s returned affection. Only fourteen when her mother, Mai, died, Natalie Mai seems to have been particularly close to Caroline, who we can only assume provided the motherly love and guidance all teenage girls require. Caroline was particularly integral in Natalie’s society debut and later wedding.
It’s impossible to completely unravel Caroline–her deepest thoughts, feelings, and motivations cannot be truly divined by any archival materials or psychic mediums, for that matter. But by examining what we can of her life, of its triumphs and tragedies, it is clear that Caroline was not a flat, archetypal character who fitted neatly into a box. She was neither wicked stepmother nor maternal martyr, a woman to be vilified, pitied, or worshipped; like all historical figures, she was more than just the sum of her parts, and at the very least, deserves to be considered.
All images Planting Fields Foundation Archives, unless otherwise noted.
Header Caption: Caroline with her step-grandchildren, Michael D. Coe and William Robertson Coe II (and dogs!) at Planting Fields. c. 1940s.
– From Collections Assistant, Hannah Lomele.