Tag Archives: history

A Grandfather, A Son, and Two Not-So-Holy Ghosts (by Sherrie Hansen)

Although my Wildflowers of Scotland books are contemporary, I always find a way to weave in a wee bit of history… an old kirk with architectural and religious artifacts gone missing, a sunken Spanish galleon filled with gold that was never recovered, a castle with a melancholy history all its own, or the Isle of Skye’s magical Fairy Glen. In GOLDEN ROD, I incorporated a touch of history via a 500-year-old castle that was cursed by a traveling minister when the owners refused his blessing, preferring to wait for the prayers of a Catholic priest.  At least, that’s what legend holds, and it would seem the legends are true, since no eldest son has ever inherited Lachlan Castle – not once in 500 years.

img_20160605_161721.jpg

From GOLDEN ROD:

A traveling Protestant minister who liked to speak in rhymes leveled the curse when the MacKenzie clan refused his blessing, preferring to wait until a Catholic priest could dedicate the newly built edifice.

Oh Lachlan, ye’re on shifting sand.

Nae eldest son shall have a hand

In furth’ring hist’ry on this land.

In the history of the castle, no eldest son has succeeded his father as heir of Lachlan Castle.

GR Blog - Castle

All kinds of tragedies have transpired as a result of the minister’s curse, including ghosts Laird Valan MacKenzie and Lady Rosemary being stranded at Lachlan for over 500 years.

A ghost dressed in full Highland attire roams the castle and grounds at Lachlan, on the shores of Loch Carron. A favorite of locals, Laird Valan MacKenzie so desperately wanted a son to pass the castle on to that he may have taken his wife’s life when she bore him nothing but daughters. Laird Valan’s version of the event was that his wife tripped and fell to her death despite his best efforts to save her. Many a guest has seen Laird Valan’s kilt, plaid, and sporran. Legend has it that Valan will haunt the castle until an ancient curse is broken.

Ghosts - plaid  Ghosts - Rosemary  Ghosts - blue lace 197442_14c1b9f9-2f1a-4779-9b3d-df92290ceadf

I won’t ask if you believe in ghosts because it doesn’t matter. GOLDEN ROD is a work of fiction, so all I’m asking you to do is to suspend your disbelief while you’re reading the book. But whatever our beliefs, I think we all have thoughts on the subject of ghosts. Some of us are afraid of them, or would be afraid to stay in a place that’s haunted by ghosts. Others are fascinated or even intrigued by ghostly happenings and seek out places that are reputedly haunted. What about you? Maybe you’ve had your hair stand on end when you’ve been seated around a campfire listening to ghost stories. How do you react to the subject of ghosts?

GR Blog - bluebells

A ghost, known as the “Blue Lady” also frequents Lachlan Castle, on Loch Carron. She is thought to be the wife of Laird Valan MacKenzie, and mother to their five daughters. Her husband allegedly pushed her from a fourth floor window so he could take a new wife who might bear him a son. The ghost of Lady Rosemary MacKenzie, who ironically, was discovered to have been pregnant with a son at the time of her death, is said to have scratched the words, The Son You Always Wanted, upside down on the window sill outside the bedroom window where she fell. The inscription can still be seen there today. It is reported that the “Blue Lady” leaves the scent of rosemary and bluebells wherever she goes. Because her own life ended so tragically, legend holds that the “Blue Lady” will haunt the castle until a Lachlan love story ends with a happily-ever-after ending. Unfortunately, due to an old curse, the dreams of many a castle resident have ended tragically, perpetuating the haunting of the castle by Lady Rosemary.

BlueBelle 2016 

I grew up watching tales of Casper the Friendly Ghost,  the classic Christmas Carol, and even Ghostbusters, so I’ve always been comfortable with the concept of ghosts. In church, we heard about the Holy Ghost, a comforting presence who is always with us. When I bought a house in St. Ansgar, Iowa and turned it into a B&B and tea house, locals told me about a friendly ghost who rescued the century old floor plans from the dump and returned them to the house when they were accidentally thrown away, among other adventures. So in one form or another, I’ve always accepted that ghosts are real.

Wildflowers - Stripes

In GOLDEN ROD, Rod MacKenzie has felt the presence of Laird Valan and Lady Rosemary since he was young, but never had a direct encounter with them – until Katelyn O’Neal arrives from America and stirs things up.

GR Blog - Clouds

Katelyn thinks the whole thing is a crock, and is convinced there has to be some sort of logical, scientific explanation for the odd things that are happening to her.

GR Blog - Cemetery

Laird Valan and Lady Rosemary, the ghostly duo from GOLDEN ROD, have very distinctive personalities and a sometimes quirky sense of humor. As Laird Valan and Lady Rosemary get more and more desperate to break the 500-year-old curse so they can rest in peace, the stakes grow higher.

GR Blog - Kilt Rock

Once Rod discovers what they’re up to, he’s more than happy to comply, or at least humor them, except that Katelyn’s niece is dying, and if he has to choose who to help, a dying twelve year old or a pair of ghosts who’ve already been dead for five hundred years, the choice is clear. Except that nothing is clear – and Laird Valan and Lady Rosemary will do anything to change history and break the curse that binds them.

Golden Rod

You’ll have to read GOLDEN ROD to learn how the story ends. In the meantime, I hope the ghosts that may haunt you are friendly ones.  Here are the Buy Links for GOLDEN ROD at Amazon:
Kindle: http://a.co/3zRGCpF
Paperback: http://a.co/8oJpv4Q

Ghosts - blur of blue

8 Comments

Filed under photographs, Scotland, Sherrie Hansen

The Real Story of Labor Day

It’s Labor Day. I bet you think I’m going to hash over that age long debate over who founded it. Some say it was Mathew Maguire of the International Association of Machinists others claim it was Peter McGuire from the Brotherhood of Carpenters.

Maguire vs McGuire, really?

I am going to settle this dispute right here and now. The idea of Labor Day had been kicked around for years but unlike Maguire and McGuire, the real story of Labor Day has no mention on the official Department of Labor website. The real story of how Labor Day was signed into law started with The Pullman Palace Car Company.

The Pullman Co was a manufacturer of luxury railroad cars on the Southside of Chicago. In efforts to deter labor agitators George M. Pullman created a company town for his workers in 1881 and named it, oddly enough, Pullman. The press hailed him as a humanitarian and a visionary but George Pullman’s saw an opportunity to control and exploit.

He charged high rents, inflated the cost of utilities and increased the prices of goods sold at the company store. He allowed only churches of his own denomination, banned public speeches, independent newspapers and within 10 years his town was valued at five million, over six times his initial investment.

Workers had little enough to live on during prosperous times but when 1893 saw an economic downturn Pullman responded by cutting jobs and reducing wages. Paychecks were cut by a quarter. His rents and prices remained unchanged.

As Pullman squeezed, families could no longer afford to heat their homes or feed their children. Out of desperation many of the workers joined the American Railroad Union (ARU) led by Eugene V. Debs and attempted to bargain collectively.

George Pullman refused to negotiate. He fired them on the spot and gave them ten days to vacate their homes. This action led to the Pullman Strike of 1994.

Riots broke out from Ohio to California as 125,000 other union workers supported their plight. Railways were disrupted, damage was done and this led to the first federal injunction to stop a labor dispute (teach them to delay the US Mail and interstate commerce).

That year, on the Fourth of July, President Grover Cleveland sent twenty-five hundred US Army troops to Chicago to break that strike. He is reported to have said that if it took the entire US Army to deliver one postcard to Chicago then he would do so. In the aftermath thirty Americans were killed and an untold number were wounded. Within a week the strike was crushed.

As opportunistic as it may have seemed, it was time to make that old idea of a special day to honor the workers real. Congress voted unanimously to approve and six days after the end of the Pullman Strike President Cleveland signed the bill into law. Labor Day became a national holiday celebrating the social and economic contribution of the American workers and you get a long weekend, yay!

Pullman died 3 years later. His casket was encased in eighteen inches of reinforced concrete then topped with more concrete, a layer of steel rail and another layer of concrete. Two full days of burial to ensure that this hated man’s body would not be dug up and desecrated by the masses.

So cast your vote, was it Maguire vs McGuire who founded Labor Day or was it George Pullman’s greed, Grover Cleveland’s violent response to people demanding fairness and his immediate efforts to appease them?

 

I would like to wish you all a Happy Labor Day. Enjoy the day, eat a burger, shop the sales and raise a beer to all those who died in labor disputes to make our lives a little better. We have much to appreciate.

6 Comments

Filed under writing

What’s In a Word 2 – by Paul J. Stam

More madness with the English language

Foreign Legion soldier at Keelung, January 1885

A bass drum

So there I was with all this Polish furniture to polish. I didn’t know how I would get it all done so I got a soldier to desert his dessert in the desert to help me. After all his help I felt there was no time like the present to present him with the present I had for him. He did not object to the object I gave him, which was a bass drum with a bass painted on it.

English: Short leg cast

Later I went to visit an invalid friend with invalid insurance. He had a leg injury. When I go there his room was so full I was too close to the door to close it. Before I got there the doctors had to subject the subject to a series of tests. He was in great pain but after a number of injections the leg was number. They didn’t think they could save the leg, but how could I intimate this to my intimate friend?

Now unless you are bilingual, multilingual or super lingual, you’re kind of like me in that the English language is what we have to work with. I do the best I can, and I don’t know about you, but I have never been able to find an egg in an eggplant or an apple nor a pine in a pineapple. And why is it sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet at all, are meat? Why is it boxing rings are square and why is it quicksand sucks you down slowly?

And so I leave you with this, not every word is what it seems to be, or is necessarily so, which brings me to my autobiography which I am writing entitled, “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” and which will probably never be published, but at the beginning of it I give the reader fair warning with this.

An Introduction
To Be Read

It has been said that, “History is written by the winners.” Hell, I said that in one of my books soon to be released by Second Wind Publishing, so it had to have been said before me. I am one such winner in that I have outlived any who might be able to refute the things I say in my autobiography.

However, I will, to the best of my ability, be honest except when it suits me to be otherwise. After all, I am a storyteller, and the important thing to a storyteller is to keep the reader interested, not be honest.

I will also warn you that the things I tell you about me, my family, my life, my loves, my hates, my accomplishments (there’s very damned few accomplishments so I’ll have to make some up) and my failures (do you really think I would tell you about those) are things that interest me, or at last did at the time.

Now, having been warned, let us begin. Please feel free to make suggestions. They will be welcomed and ignored, as is the case with any suggestions from close friends.

There, you’ve been warned, exactly what you have been warned about I’m not sure.

Thank you, and May Only Good Come Your Way.

Copyright © 2015 by Paul J. Stam
All rights reserved

 <><><>

Final MSS Cover frontMurder Sets Sail is available from Second Wind Publishing and on Amazon. Kindle editions is only $4.99.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00023]Another of Paul’s books, The Telephone Killer published by 2nd Wind Publishing is available on Amazon and from the publisher. Kindle and Nook versions just $4.99.

To watch The Telephone Killer video click here.

The Telephone Killer is now also available as an audiobook.

<><><>

Since everything is copyrighted please feel free to re blog any of my posts but please repost in its entirety and giving appropriate credit.

2 Comments

Filed under Humor, Paul J. Stam

It Ain’t Necessarily So – 2

Aint 3 finalIt Ain’t Necessarily So
CHAPTER TWO

The Wages of Sin
In doing it My Way

I said before that I don’t remember the event of being born. It would seem to me that one should remember the most important event in his or hers life. Without that important event there can be no other important events. I guess that is a deficiency on my part. Nor do I remember sucking my mother’s breast, but again, I’m told I had a voracious appetite.

One other thing that I think should be made quite clear is that I also do not remember being consulted as to whether or not I wanted to be born. It seems to me that is something a person should at least be informed about if not consulted. After all, I’m going to be spend more time with me than with anyone else and I should be allowed to decide if I want to be me, and spend my entire life with someone like me. Continue reading

1 Comment

Filed under books, Excerpts, Humor, life, memory, Paul J. Stam, writing

How important is research? by S M Senden

I have been complimented over and over again about the depth of my research for Clara’s Wish, and my ability to re-create another era so readers feel as if they are right there.  In preparing for an interview, someone asked me that question ‘How Important is research?’  They thought that research amounted to reading a couple of books, looking up some things on the internet and that would be it.  Then I would be ready to write a book set in another era.

I had to laugh at that, for research ~ at least for me ~ can become a deep quagmire that is difficult to extract myself.  But then I do consider myself a devoted history geek.  Once I find myself doing some research on a subject, all too soon it points me in another direction, to another book, to another set of references and so on.

I am currently researching two historical settings for two books I am writing.  The periods are sufficiently diverse that it is easy for me to keep the research separate in my mind.  One of these stories is set primarily in Europe in the late 1700’s about the time of the American Revolution, running through the French Revolution and into the Napoleonic era.

The story is about a young girl, Eleanor, who has finished her education in the French convent and comes home to live in England with her only living relative ~ her sister.  The sister has married well and has young children.  They introduce Eleanor into the society of the Bon Ton hoping to find her a suitable husband.

In researching this strata of society, I was caught up in the amazing and volatile times in which they lived.  Since I am a hopeless history geek, I like to have readers learn something as well as be swept along in a good story.  Dorothy Sayers always managed to teach readers something, and I aspire to emulate her.  I read about the people that I wanted to include, in some way in my book, for their lives were extraordinary.  Some in particular are Madame Tussaud, Miss Lenormand, the Duchess of Devonshire and the possibilities that arise when the some of these people meet at Spa in Belgium with a whisper of possible spies and political intrigue.

I have no idea at this point where all my research may take me.  I have the idea for the story and what I would like to have happen to the main characters.  Yet, I do not know how this will end.  My research may change the story or it may reinforce it.  That is the process that I love, creating, pulling research and story together to make another era come alive, not just for me, but for those who read the words I have written.

So, how much research is enough?  I can only say that ~ for me ~ my research never seems to end, for it always points me in a new direction.  However, I do have to get the story written, and as I continue the research process, I can add or take something away and make corrections as I work.  Sooner or later, I will need to say, enough and hope that I have done my best to create another era and bring a fulfilling experience to my readers.

Right now, I better get back to research, for there are still so many books to read!

Image

Leave a comment

Filed under writing

History Down the Hill by Norm Brown

My home is certainly not a mansion, though I can see some from here. In real estate ads I’ve always heard that it’s all about “location, location, location.” Well, my place does have plenty of that. It’s situated atop a limestone hill overlooking one of the most popular biker roads leading out into the Texas Hill Country. What passes for my back yard is only a ten foot stretch of grass. Beyond that, the hill drops away abruptly in several steep tree covered steps. I like the privacy that the position provides. I also enjoy hiking around down below occasionally to get exercise and also to see what I can find. There’s a lot of history to be found on this weathered hillside.

On a warm spring morning during one of my first years of living here, I came across something that really got me going for a while. At the edge of a gravel trail, I spotted a half buried object. From what I could see, it looked like the ridges of a mammoth molar. These extinct creatures roamed this part of Texas tens of thousands of years ago. I remembered seeing a tooth for sale here in the Austin area for several hundred bucks. I knelt down and started digging, totally unaware that the small mound of dirt was actually a fire ant bed. That unawareness was brief as my hands were attacked by much smaller critters than the mammoth, but I snatched the fossil up and dusted away the ants. Back at the house I washed off my find and got a better look at it. Once I could see both sides, I realized I had not found a tooth. It was something much older: a chunk of sea coral, here on a hill at least two hundred miles from the Gulf of Mexico. That seems odd now, but some 60 million years ago most of Texas was covered by a shallow sea. The white Austin limestone that my house rests upon was formed entirely from the shells of ancient sea creatures. The hill itself wasn’t here at that time. Later earthquakes pushed up the rough terrain. In places this exposed not only solid sedimentary rock, but also stretches of the actual sea floor as it last existed. About half way down the hill there is a band of oyster shells and seashells that look like they could have just been cracked open.  Here is a photo of some of the things I’ve found while “beachcombing” on a hill. The tiny sea anemone is my favorite find so far.

Sea Coral, Oyster Shells, and Sea Anemone

Sea Coral, Oyster Shells, and Sea Anemone

I have also happened upon evidence of more recent times in the past. So far I have found three arrowheads.

Arrowheads

Arrowheads

Two are small and almost perfect and the third is a fragment of a larger point meant to take big game. Where my neighbor’s house stands now is a round outcropping of flint that perfectly matches the material of the first small arrowhead that was laying a few feet away. Did the manufacturer throw it angrily away when the corner broke off after hours of sitting there working it? A couple of hills farther south of my place, Lake Travis follows the narrow contours of the Colorado River. People have lived in this area for a very long time, at least by North American standards. About four miles east of here, in the city of Leander, the remains of a very early resident was found in January 1983. Estimated at between 10,000 and 13,000 years old, she is affectionately called the Leanderthal woman.

Well, there are still a couple hours of daylight left today. I think I’ll put on my hiking shoes and go exploring for a bit.

Norm Brown is the author of the suspense novel Carpet Ride, published by Secondwind Publishing, LLC.

5 Comments

Filed under Norm Brown, photographs

Virginia Slims and the Kool-Aid Man by Claire Collins

Oil of Olay’s ads in the late 70’s were so effective that I as a 7 or 8-year-old, thought I needed to use their product. From the commercials, women must all succumb to this horrible tragedy called “wrinkles” which made them look old. My mom got a sample size of the amazing beauty fluid and I used it until it was gone. She wouldn’t buy me a full bottle and over time I forgot to worry about wrinkles.

I was about 5 when my parents quit smoking. It’s hard to believe I remember so much of it so well since I was so young but it was pretty traumatic for me.  I remember lying on the floorboard of the car. Yes – seatbelts were optional back then, and I was very young since I could fit on the floorboard. Yet I remember clearly lying on the floorboard because I was trying to breathe. It was winter and both of my parents were smoking with the windows rolled up. Yuck. But I do remember that my mother smoked Virginia Slims.

I remember so well because they would include these totally cool and amazing Book of Days calendars with each carton of cigarettes. My mother always ended up with lots of extras and I was a voracious reader so she would give them to me. I think I memorized most of them. To me, it was just like getting a prize in a cereal box. That was strong advertising.

I began smoking at 15 and  smoked for 22 years. It’s been 3 years now since I quit.  I always did like that slogan: “You’ve come a long way baby”. Thankfully, all of that Oil of Olay has kept my skin very youthful looking and wrinkle free despite all of that smoking.

What advertising really impacted your life? Not just the ones that you remember, because we all know about the Kool-Aid man, OH YEAH! and that our bologna has a first name (It’s O-S-C-A-R), but the ads that really sunk in to your habits and life? What do you think about the images that children today are exposed to?

Claire Collins is the author of Images of Betrayal  and Fate and Destiny

2 Comments

Filed under fun

Rabbits and Eggs

 

I’ve always wanted to come to the bottom of the odd imagery which goes hand in hand with Easter. When I was little, back in the early fifties, I received an Easter basket, usually complete with a fluffy toy bunny. We had festive posters on the school room walls of cheerful looking rabbits with candy baskets. Bunnies=Easter—that was simply how it was. Nothing to do with the awe-full Christian story of agony and resurrection, of course, but running in unexplained tandem.

As I grew older, I became fascinated with mythology and with history. Following both tracks back to the long ago where they merge, I came upon a Saxon goddess named Eostre. Her arrival brought spring to the English. Like others of her regenerative earth goddess kind, flowers sprang up where she walked.  Eggs are laid in spring and so perhaps, I thought, the basket is actually a nest containing eggs. The eggs and new born rabbits and all the other creatures who begin their life cycles at this time have simply become conflated into “mash-up”  image.

This satisfied me for a very long time, until this year, when with fresh input from British scholars, (Philip and Stephanie Carr-Gomm) I think I’ve finally come to the bottom of the rabbit and eggs conundrum.  Long ago, in England, before the Romans introduced rabbits, there were related creatures called “hares,” decidedly not the same animal as “silly rabbits.” British hares are larger, relatives of the white Arctic Hare. They thrived in the extensive, grazing-created grasslands.  Hares do not sleep in burrows, but in “forms,” which their neatly tucked up bodies make in the long grass. 

A British bird, the lapwing, shares this habitat. She lays her eggs in grassy nests on the ground, like the American whippoorwill. She even does a similar “my wing is broken” routine to lead predators away from her eggs/chicks. Sometimes the lapwing makes use of a hare’s abandoned “form” for her eggs—and presto!

Ancient people saw the forms left by the hares, sometimes containing the pretty speckled eggs of the lapwing, and a magical image was born. To put a cap on it, at least from a long-ago Britain’s point of view, both these animals belonged to the Goddess Eostre, the sweet lady who brings us fertility and flowers, so welcome after winter’s dead time.

–Juliet Waldron

 http://www.amazon.com/Druid-Animal-Oracle-Philip-Carr-Gomm/dp/0671503006/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1332938208&sr=1-1

http://www.julietwaldron.com

5 Comments

Filed under writing

Romantic Transylvania by Coco Ihle

I’ve traveled to many countries, but my favorite is Romania, in particular, the republic of Transylvania. Many people who go to Transylvania want, especially, to see Bran Castle, associated with the stories of Vlad the Impaler and the novel Dracula, created by the Irish writer, Bram Stoker, over a century ago.

Bran Castle, Transylvania

Although Bran was fascinating, I felt my imagination soar in Sinaia (pronounced “Sin-EYE-ah); a village nestled deep in the Carpathian pine forests. It seemed to me a timeless place right out of a fairytale with its unique cross-timbered buildings tucked against lush steep mountain slopes.

I remember, one clear night as darkness settled, I unlatched my window and leaned out. It was so quiet I could hear the sighing of the trees in the forest. I don’t know how long I lingered there listening, but after a
while, I became aware of the howling of wolves echoing in the mountains. Before long, dogs in the village joined in the eerie chorus. I’ll never forget that stillness and those haunting sounds. They were both beautiful and frightening; conjuring up images and memories of the tales I’d heard or read of this exotic land of vampires and nocturnal creatures.

The next day, I visited Peles Castle at the edge of the village. It is truly the most exquisite building I’ve ever seen. Both inside and out. While not a new castle as castles go, its building was begun in 1883 by Romania’s longest serving monarch, King Carol I, as a summer residence. I was amazed to learn this magnificent royal palace, with its fairytale turrets and pointed towers rising above acres of green meadows, was the first castle in Europe to have central heating and electricity.

Peles Castle, Sinaia, Transylvania

The characteristic features of the external architecture are specific to the German neo-Renaissance style. The interior is dominated by the same elements, but have combined various styles: Italian and Gothic Renaissance, German Baroque, the rococo, Hispanic, Moorish and Turkish styles. The architects used an abundance of wooden decoration both inside and out, which gives the building that fairytale quality.

Quite outstanding are the big Armory Room, the small Armory Room, the Florentine Room, the Reception Room, the Moresque Room, the French Room, the Turkish Room, the Council Room, the Concert Room and the Imperial Suite, 160 rooms in all.

Interior of Peles Castle, Sinaia, Transylvania

The library conceals a secret passage leading to the second floor of the castle. There is a gallery of mirrors and the dining room has a leather clad ceiling. Scenes from age old Romanian fairytales adorn the stained glass windows in the Poetry Room. Paintings, sculptures, silver, gold and marble are everywhere.

During Ceausescu’s era, the castle was used as a private retreat for leading communists and statesmen from around the globe. U.S. presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, Libyan leader Moamar Gaddafi and Yasser Arafat were all entertained by the Romanian dictator in Pele’s fanciful rooms, each furnished to reflect a different European country.

Peles Castle truly took my breath away. If you ever travel to Romania, I cannot recommend highly enough, a visit to Peles Castle and Sinaia.

Have you visited a place whose very essence made your imagination soar?

10 Comments

Filed under blogging, Coco Ihle, fiction, musings, photographs

Dear Emily

For nearly a year, I have had the opportunity to spend a large amount of time working on “Dear Emily: A Memoir ~ My Life in the Fine Stores”.  At the age of 89, Louise Thomas is a spunky woman of the world, living on her own in her beautiful home and taking on new challenges every day. She was also a trend-setter, paving the way for women in the executive world. Not only was her executive world male-dominated, but it was also largely family operated and almost always enjoyable.

Starting out in the department stores of New York in the 1940s, Louise experienced decades of social and economic change, not only in the evolution and decline of the fabulous shopping world, but in the world as a whole as she traveled across continents as a buyer and eventually for enjoyment.

The following excerpt from her memoir gives a glimpse of the New York department stores at their peak:

One April morning, a well-dressed lady stopped by the handkerchief department to purchase an all-over embroidered linen handkerchief for one dollar, asked to have it gift-wrapped, cashed a check for $100 so that she would have lunch money, and requested to have her full-length black mink coat sent to her Park Avenue address. She would be meeting a friend for lunch at Club 21. The temperature had risen which made her long coat a bother. Every detail was met within minutes, accompanied by a smile and a “thank you”.

Sadly, service like that doesn’t exist anymore. 

Ivey's Department store, Downtown Charlotte, North Carolina, 1924

Another excerpt brings the reader into a world surviving under less security and less scrutiny.


Dear Emily,

I wish you could have been with me on Thursday, January 28, 1965. I did a full day’s work at the office in Winston-Salem, North Carolina and then caught an evening flight to Newark and a helicopter to Kennedy airport for an 8 a.m. flight to London. We were scheduled to begin our spring buying trip in Rome, but at the last minute, we were able to switch our destination from Rome to London to attend the funeral of Winston Churchill. 

To the strains of Handel’s “Dead March”, the cortège entered first Parliament Street and on to Whitehall. Here stood hundreds of veterans from the European resistance, French, Belgians, Dutch, Danes, and Norwegians. Their survivors dipped their flags to the man whose voice had brought them hope. Next, the procession passed a house with two outside lights burning, No. 10 Downing St, passed the statue of Nelson in Trafalgar Square, up Fleet Street headed toward Ludgate Hill where we were fortunate to have front row positions not far from the massive cathedral. Everywhere one looked, there were people and more people all with one purpose—to honor their fallen hero, their protector.

The cortège carried the flag-wrapped casket up the narrow street—no more than five or six feet from us. Behind followed the veil-draped Lady Churchill and her daughter, Sarah. They were riding in the Queen’s carriage on loan from the owners. The creeping carriage stopped immediately in front of us. We could easily have touched the carriage. It was that close. We were a block away from the cathedral.

Louise also gives us an idea of what happened to the glorious days of service:

Dear Emily,

Does it all make sense now? So what really happened to a fine institution, born in Europe, perfected in America, and all but extinct in little more than one century? There is no simple answer.

Louise’s account of her life in the fine stores, speckled with tales of her adventurous travel and insights into business, history, and day-to-day life during the past eighty years is presented as letters and pictures to her lifelong friend Emily. I encourage readers to settle in for a trip into the past as they read Dear Emily: A Memoir ~ My Life in the Fine Stores. I’m glad I took the trip. I now have memories of Louise and the fine stores that I will never forget.

See also: Woman Writes of How She Did it Her Way in Heyday of Downtown Business

~Tracy Beltran is the Administrator for Second Wind Publishing. She also writes as Claire Collins and her books, Fate and Destiny,  and Images of Betrayal are available from http://www.secondwindpublishing.com, as well as a variety of e-book applications, Amazon, and Kindle.  Grab a copy of Louise’s Dear Emily while you’re there.

1 Comment

Filed under books, writing