In 1854, a girl named Evelyn was born into slavery on a plantation in Richmond, Virginia. Her father was sold into the Deep South when she was just a baby, so all the love and protection she received as a child came from her mother, Martha, and the other female house slaves, who doted on her. Evelyn's master and mistress, however, were cold and brusque, their children outright malicious, and the many cruelties Evelyn witnessed or heard of during this time would haunt her for the rest of her life.
In 1865, when Evelyn was eleven years old, the Civil War came to an end, and with it, the institution of slavery in America. Escaping the devastation of the postwar South, Evelyn and her mother made their way north with two other women who were like aunts to Evelyn, doing odd jobs for money and begging rides with strangers. When they reached New York, the four of them settled into a tenement on Minetta Lane in the Little Africa section of Greenwich Village. Despite the area's unsavory reputation, Martha and her friends found respectable, if grueling, work in a factory that produced artificial flowers. This left Evelyn a great deal of time to herself, and she supplemented the family income in the manner of many independent young people at the time--by selling newspapers.
When she was seventeen, Evelyn fell in love with a young white bartender named Gregory Hartwick. Her mother disapproved of the match, but Evelyn had a mind of her own, and they were married a year later. Evelyn began the practice of spelling their last name "Heartwick", as she thought it was more romantic. The two had a happy marriage and raised three children. The first moved out west to seek his fortune; the second went into business with his father, running one of Little Africa's infamous "black-and-tan" saloons; and the youngest, Theodosia (affectionately known as Theo), followed in her parents' footsteps and became a newsgirl.
In 1894, however, tragedy struck the family. Gregory was killed in his own saloon when he tried to break up a brawl and a drunken customer pulled a knife. Mrs. Heartwick grieved deeply, but she possessed the same unbreakable spirit as the women who raised her. In order to support her daughter, she decided to open a home for newsgirls at 127 Bleecker Street, providing them with the same sort of loving all-female environment that supported her throughout her childhood. Combined with a generous dash of the neighborhood's bohemian spirit, this idea became the Greenwich Village Lodging House, and it was the feisty young Theo Heartwick--nicknamed "Trill" for her sweet singing voice--who became their beloved ringleader.
Trill's reign lasted four years before she unexpectedly passed the torch to a brand-new lodger--a wayward Irish girl called Footsteps--and moved out of the house to travel far and wide and pursue a singing career. Mrs. Heartwick, saddened by her daughter's departure and receiving only sporadic letters from her, has since transferred her considerable motherly affection to all the newsgirls of the Village.
"--but you just couldn't resist tellin' it," Mrs. Heartwick says with a fond smile. She turns to you, eyes shining with pride. "Miss Footsteps here is a born storyteller."
"Ah, don't start in on that!" Footsteps protests, flushing. "Just 'cause me mouth runs on like a steam engine--"
"Go on, honey," Mrs. Heartwick laughs, "tell her about the neighborhood next. I know there ain't any subject you love better, 'cept maybe old Ireland."
With a sheepish smile, Footsteps inclines her head and motions you toward the door. "C'mon, let's take a walk. Ya gotta see the Village to believe it."