In the Citadel of American Culture
THEY were to appear next in Boston, and LeGrand Smith had gone on ahead to hire a hall and make other advance arangements. Barnum had to cope unaided with the hundreds of letters, telegrams and business propositions regarding Jenny, which were pouring in every day. Fortunately, he had spent a week or two in the White Mountains in August, gathering strength for the ordeal ahead. He wrote afterwards that for nine months following Jenny's arrival, he had not a minute free of anxiety and strain.
The party sailed on the Empire State, Jenny going aboard early to avoid the crowds, which had gathered densely by sailing time. In his memoirs, Barnum said that Jenny never could understand why hordes of people were always on hand for her arrivals and departures, in spite of her efforts to keep these secret. She knew that Barnum knew how much it distressed her to be the center of a press of struggling humanity, and her impresario carefully kept from her the fact that he was disseminating information of this kind, telegraphing her expected arrival time to the newspapers of the next city. Jenny was easy to deceive, inasmuch as she had never had dealings before with a man of P. T. Barnum's type, and could not imagine that he would go against her wishes deliberately, when he had acted so generously toward her. Barnum maintained that he felt fully justified in his actions, because the demonstrations intensified interest in the concerts.
People were waiting all along the shore to get a glimpse of the vessel, even where it was too far away for them to be able to distinguish Jenny