Recently I’ve been reading Walt Whitman in Mickle Street, a short book published by Elizabeth Leavitt Keller in 1921. Keller wrote this account Whitman’s life in Camden after serving as a nurse to him just before he died. Keller’s observations and chronicling of the happenings at 328 Mickle Street make one feel as if she were some kind of documentary director in the making. In her Preface, she claims to have written the book after being asked many times to discuss the particulars of Walt’s final days with the press and his friends. An interesting aspect of the book, however, is her focus on the role of Mary Davis, who, according to Keller, lived a life “of self-sacrifice and devotion to others” (2). Mary Davis, whose name is also the title of the book’s first chapter, is painted by Keller as constantly giving and nurturing, despite Walt’s particular preferences about household matters and the “messiness” of his surroundings. None of this is all that surprising; we know that Walt kept piles of paper around his room, refused to let Mary empty the trash can, and, due to illness, had no role in the general upkeep of the house. A somewhat new aspect of Mary’s portrayal, though, is her role as (what we’d call today) a personal assistant.
According to Keller, when Whitman’s illness “anchored” him at home in 1888, the number of visitors to the small Camden row house increased greatly. People were eager to see Walt and, because he could not come to them, they made their best attempts to visit him. Unfortunately, many of these visitors were unaware of the poet’s private health problems and his disinterest in constantly entertaining guests. When people would arrive unannounced to see Walt, Mary’s role became that of a secretary “screening calls” as it were. Keller writes:
Strange that these were often the days when visitors would flock there, the great majority of whom would leave deeply disappointed, and for this cause the inoffensive housekeeper—she who had to bear the brunt of everything—incurred the displeasure, even the enmity, of some people. …She invariably met each individual pleasantly and never spoke hastily or abruptly to anyone; she always gave civil answers to their questions; often went to Mr. Whitman to intercede for them; and it was through her influence along that many were admitted to his presence. But if he was not disposed to yield, her best efforts would be in vain, and the only alternative left her was to offend others instead of him. (116-117)
Essentially, Mary became a sort of public relations manager for Walt. She was often responsible for the way others perceived him and would do her best to make both Walt and his visitors happy. When Walt refused to see visitors, however, it was Mary who was left to endure their complaints, frustration, and disappointment. If Walt and Mary were at 328 Mickle Street in the late twentieth century, I think Mary would be running around the house with a cell phone in one hand and a pager in the other. The vacuum would probably be running, much to Walt’s anxiety about losing any important piece of paper, and there would likely be some kind of intercom system installed to prevent the constant running up and down the stairs to inform Walt of his guests’ arrival. In reading about Mary’s life with Walt in Camden, I cannot help but see them as a sort of business team. It seems as if her role was more akin to a modern celebrity’s personal assistant than to today’s housekeeper.
328 Mickle Street today (The Walt Whitman House)