Kathleen Marple Kalb's Blog, page 27
July 23, 2020
HOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?
Sure, it’s been a nasty, steamy week in the Northeast. My grandfather, a self-educated gent with a colorful turn of phrase, would have called it “Hotter than the hinges of Hell,” with an apology for the profanity around ladies.
Now imagine living it with corsets…and without air conditioning.
That’s exactly what women had to face in the late 19th century, and really, for hundreds of years before. But it wasn’t really until the 1800s that ridiculous standards of layering up really took hold.
If (like me) you grew up on a steady diet of L.M. Montgomery, Laura Ingalls Wilder and the like, you probably remember older ladies saying “A nice woman never wears less than three petticoats, at least one flannel.” Also if you’re like me, you probably didn’t believe people actually wore that much clothing.
Wrong. A look at fashion plates and popular advice will tell you that they sure did. In the lists for a middle-to-upper class bride’s trousseau, the sheer quantity of chemises, petticoats and suggests women were swathed in layer upon layer of thin cotton. That was the good part: it was thin and it was cotton. But there sure was a lot of it.
By 1899, when Ella Shane and her friends would be dressing for a hot day, they’d start with pantalets and a camisole, or “combinations” – one-piece long johns to you -- if they were especially forward-thinking. Then came the stays (even singers like Ella wore them, though she wouldn’t lace tight: a nice woman NEVER left the house without a corset). Next a corset-cover, essentially another camisole. Plus those petticoats, though hopefully not heavy flannel in the summer heat. Stockings too.
Which finally brings us to the dress. Those sheer white or pastel lawn frocks you see in the vintage photos are very pretty, but they’re really just practical. If you’ve already got four or five layers on, you want to top it off with the least clothing you can decently wear. So the dress has to be as thin and breathable as the rest of the outfit.
People who’ve tried it (I’m not one of them, being about a foot too tall to wear anything dating from the time) say that it’s not as tortuous as it seems, as long as you don’t lace the stays very tight. The thin natural fibers do help wick sweat, and all the light loose petticoats and skirts let air move. Which is all well and good, but remember, you’re still out there in many, many layers of clothing in a world without air conditioning.
So it’s not surprising that most old summer pictures of women in street clothes – as opposed to bathing suits, which is another post for another day – show them sitting on chaises in the shade or slowly walking in the sea breeze. That’s about all most of us could reasonably manage in a getup like that.
You might want to spare a thought here for the maids, laundresses and other working women of the time, who were expected to dress “decently” by their employers’ standards, but did not have the luxury of relaxing in the shade. Never mind the women helping their men in the gardens and fields. Not just backbreaking work – but backbreaking work in clothes that only added to the burden.
So, as uncomfortable as she might have been, Ella would know it could have been a lot worse, and she’d be grateful. I know I'm grateful in my sweater for the AC, at least most of the time!
Now imagine living it with corsets…and without air conditioning.
That’s exactly what women had to face in the late 19th century, and really, for hundreds of years before. But it wasn’t really until the 1800s that ridiculous standards of layering up really took hold.
If (like me) you grew up on a steady diet of L.M. Montgomery, Laura Ingalls Wilder and the like, you probably remember older ladies saying “A nice woman never wears less than three petticoats, at least one flannel.” Also if you’re like me, you probably didn’t believe people actually wore that much clothing.
Wrong. A look at fashion plates and popular advice will tell you that they sure did. In the lists for a middle-to-upper class bride’s trousseau, the sheer quantity of chemises, petticoats and suggests women were swathed in layer upon layer of thin cotton. That was the good part: it was thin and it was cotton. But there sure was a lot of it.
By 1899, when Ella Shane and her friends would be dressing for a hot day, they’d start with pantalets and a camisole, or “combinations” – one-piece long johns to you -- if they were especially forward-thinking. Then came the stays (even singers like Ella wore them, though she wouldn’t lace tight: a nice woman NEVER left the house without a corset). Next a corset-cover, essentially another camisole. Plus those petticoats, though hopefully not heavy flannel in the summer heat. Stockings too.
Which finally brings us to the dress. Those sheer white or pastel lawn frocks you see in the vintage photos are very pretty, but they’re really just practical. If you’ve already got four or five layers on, you want to top it off with the least clothing you can decently wear. So the dress has to be as thin and breathable as the rest of the outfit.
People who’ve tried it (I’m not one of them, being about a foot too tall to wear anything dating from the time) say that it’s not as tortuous as it seems, as long as you don’t lace the stays very tight. The thin natural fibers do help wick sweat, and all the light loose petticoats and skirts let air move. Which is all well and good, but remember, you’re still out there in many, many layers of clothing in a world without air conditioning.
So it’s not surprising that most old summer pictures of women in street clothes – as opposed to bathing suits, which is another post for another day – show them sitting on chaises in the shade or slowly walking in the sea breeze. That’s about all most of us could reasonably manage in a getup like that.
You might want to spare a thought here for the maids, laundresses and other working women of the time, who were expected to dress “decently” by their employers’ standards, but did not have the luxury of relaxing in the shade. Never mind the women helping their men in the gardens and fields. Not just backbreaking work – but backbreaking work in clothes that only added to the burden.
So, as uncomfortable as she might have been, Ella would know it could have been a lot worse, and she’d be grateful. I know I'm grateful in my sweater for the AC, at least most of the time!
July 16, 2020
THE REAL STAR OF THE SHOW
I’m starting to think I should have called the series the “Montezuma Shane” Mysteries. It’s a rare reviewer who doesn’t mention Ella and Tommy’s parrot, and at least a few people seem to like him better than Ella. Montezuma’s a lot of fun to write, and read…but you may be surprised to know that he’s also a very realistic pet.
People have been keeping parrots since Ancient Egypt, and they were quite popular in the Roman Empire. The Dark Ages weren’t great for parrots (or a lot of other folks!) but by the Renaissance, they were making a comeback: Henry VIII had one, and it probably had a happier life than any of his wives. By the time we get to the Victorian Era, even middle-class families could get an exotic bird, though Amazon parrots, among the largest and most talkative, were still special.
Montezuma certainly is. He, and his name – I suspect Ella and Tommy might have called him Brian Boru -- came with their townhouse in Washington Square. The old importer who owned the place was moving in with a fastidious daughter who didn’t want “that nasty bird” to come with her papa. Her loss.
It’s good luck for all, because parrots can live to age 75, and even though he’s not a spring chicken (c’mon, you had to know that was coming!) Montezuma is still very much in his prime. He’s also still very much able to pick up new tricks, as he’s happy to demonstrate when he bursts into one of the drinking songs Tommy’s sports writer friends taught him…or sings along with the melody line when Ella’s friend Marie visits.
He’s probably a lot better off with Tommy and Ella than tangling with the importer’s daughter anyway. Since he’s more than a bit of a diva in his own right, and prone to doing whatever he has to do to get attention, not to mention blessed with the impressively loud voice of his species, he wouldn’t fit in well with a quiet and respectable household. There’s a reason why you hear a lot more about Victorian ladies keeping cute little songbirds – and parrots tend to be the companions of pirates and eccentrics.
In some respects, Montezuma and his ilk are a bit like cats: intelligent, unpredictable, and determined that their humans shall pay appropriate tribute. No one should be too surprised that Montezuma bursts into a drinking song if the room is too quiet, or calls the Duke an “English stick” in exactly the tone Ella first said it, because she’s too interested in a human male instead of the avian who rightly owns her.
Montezuma also has the ability of every smart pet to appear absolutely adorable just when their humans are at the limit of their patience. That’s the main purpose of his favorite phrase: “Love the birdie!” It’s a reminder that Ella, Tommy – and the rest of us – do, indeed.
By the way, you’re probably wondering right about now if I’ve made up some of Montezuma’s antics. Not really. I have a good friend, a fellow writer, who belongs to two parrots, and they treat him very much the way Montezuma does Ella and Tommy: they adore him, and they push him around.
The only real difference between Montezuma and my friend’s parrots is that he doesn’t have a partner in crime, which is probably safer for Ella and Tommy…at least for now.
Got an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Tell me in the comments!
People have been keeping parrots since Ancient Egypt, and they were quite popular in the Roman Empire. The Dark Ages weren’t great for parrots (or a lot of other folks!) but by the Renaissance, they were making a comeback: Henry VIII had one, and it probably had a happier life than any of his wives. By the time we get to the Victorian Era, even middle-class families could get an exotic bird, though Amazon parrots, among the largest and most talkative, were still special.
Montezuma certainly is. He, and his name – I suspect Ella and Tommy might have called him Brian Boru -- came with their townhouse in Washington Square. The old importer who owned the place was moving in with a fastidious daughter who didn’t want “that nasty bird” to come with her papa. Her loss.
It’s good luck for all, because parrots can live to age 75, and even though he’s not a spring chicken (c’mon, you had to know that was coming!) Montezuma is still very much in his prime. He’s also still very much able to pick up new tricks, as he’s happy to demonstrate when he bursts into one of the drinking songs Tommy’s sports writer friends taught him…or sings along with the melody line when Ella’s friend Marie visits.
He’s probably a lot better off with Tommy and Ella than tangling with the importer’s daughter anyway. Since he’s more than a bit of a diva in his own right, and prone to doing whatever he has to do to get attention, not to mention blessed with the impressively loud voice of his species, he wouldn’t fit in well with a quiet and respectable household. There’s a reason why you hear a lot more about Victorian ladies keeping cute little songbirds – and parrots tend to be the companions of pirates and eccentrics.
In some respects, Montezuma and his ilk are a bit like cats: intelligent, unpredictable, and determined that their humans shall pay appropriate tribute. No one should be too surprised that Montezuma bursts into a drinking song if the room is too quiet, or calls the Duke an “English stick” in exactly the tone Ella first said it, because she’s too interested in a human male instead of the avian who rightly owns her.
Montezuma also has the ability of every smart pet to appear absolutely adorable just when their humans are at the limit of their patience. That’s the main purpose of his favorite phrase: “Love the birdie!” It’s a reminder that Ella, Tommy – and the rest of us – do, indeed.
By the way, you’re probably wondering right about now if I’ve made up some of Montezuma’s antics. Not really. I have a good friend, a fellow writer, who belongs to two parrots, and they treat him very much the way Montezuma does Ella and Tommy: they adore him, and they push him around.
The only real difference between Montezuma and my friend’s parrots is that he doesn’t have a partner in crime, which is probably safer for Ella and Tommy…at least for now.
Got an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Tell me in the comments!
July 9, 2020
SUITABLE FOR WORK
The definition of work clothes has slipped an awful lot in recent months (thanks, lockdown!) but until very recently, most of us would have agreed that a woman in a suit, whether skirt or pants, might be going to the office, the courtroom, or maybe the broadcast studio. We would definitely not have assumed the same for a woman in a frilly dress, if anyone really even wears them these days.
That pattern of dress was starting to take hold in the late 1800s It began with the shirtwaist, those reasonably priced, ready-to-wear blouses that quickly became a favorite of the young lady typists who were beginning to move into offices. The shirtwaist, whether plain or trimmed up with various embellishments, was worn with a simple and serviceable skirt…and our working girl had her uniform for the day.
A professional woman, like newspaper reporter Hetty MacNaughten, Ella Shane’s good friend, would definitely like the shirtwaist, too. But she would wear it with a suit. It’s part practicality; the sort of plain gray serge suit Hetty favors enables her to move freely and comfortably, just like a man can, without worrying about her clothes any more than a man does. The simple and sober outfit, though, is also a proclamation that she is a serious woman doing important work.
In 1899, it’s still a very big deal for women to be in traditionally male professions, like journalism, and Hetty’s well aware of the statement she’s making with that suit. She doesn’t want people to look at her and see a woman. She wants them to see a journalist.
Toward the end of A FATAL FINALE, Hetty comes over to Ella’s house for tea with an interview subject (a male – any more is a potential spoiler!) and she’s wearing the usual suit, with a nicer-than-usual shirtwaist in honor of the event. Hetty is every inch the professional and not much the woman.
Ella, on the other hand, being the hostess, is in a dress. A pretty afternoon frock, as it happens. It may be the fact that she sings male roles, or spends so much time in fencing practice, but Ella has a wide and deep girly streak, and whenever possible, she will choose a frilly dress. Usually in her favorite shades of lavender and lilac, as it is on this occasion.
That pretty dress is every bit as much an announcement for Ella as Hetty’s suit is for her. Ella is proclaiming that she is the lady at home, and has no need to wear anything resembling work clothes. The dress is Ella’s way of saying that for her, the afternoon is more of a social engagement.
More than that, though, it’s also a way of putting her guests, both Hetty and the gentleman, at ease. A lady in a pretty dress pouring tea is exactly who and what one might expect in a comfortable parlor in Washington Square, perhaps taking a bit of the edge off what may turn out to be a rather uncomfortable interview.
And so, just like our modern example, a lady in a suit may well be working, and a lady in a pretty dress likely is not. Which leads to a very simple observation: clothes do not necessarily make the woman, but a wise reader always pays attention to what the female characters are wearing – and why!
Have an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Drop it in the comments!
That pattern of dress was starting to take hold in the late 1800s It began with the shirtwaist, those reasonably priced, ready-to-wear blouses that quickly became a favorite of the young lady typists who were beginning to move into offices. The shirtwaist, whether plain or trimmed up with various embellishments, was worn with a simple and serviceable skirt…and our working girl had her uniform for the day.
A professional woman, like newspaper reporter Hetty MacNaughten, Ella Shane’s good friend, would definitely like the shirtwaist, too. But she would wear it with a suit. It’s part practicality; the sort of plain gray serge suit Hetty favors enables her to move freely and comfortably, just like a man can, without worrying about her clothes any more than a man does. The simple and sober outfit, though, is also a proclamation that she is a serious woman doing important work.
In 1899, it’s still a very big deal for women to be in traditionally male professions, like journalism, and Hetty’s well aware of the statement she’s making with that suit. She doesn’t want people to look at her and see a woman. She wants them to see a journalist.
Toward the end of A FATAL FINALE, Hetty comes over to Ella’s house for tea with an interview subject (a male – any more is a potential spoiler!) and she’s wearing the usual suit, with a nicer-than-usual shirtwaist in honor of the event. Hetty is every inch the professional and not much the woman.
Ella, on the other hand, being the hostess, is in a dress. A pretty afternoon frock, as it happens. It may be the fact that she sings male roles, or spends so much time in fencing practice, but Ella has a wide and deep girly streak, and whenever possible, she will choose a frilly dress. Usually in her favorite shades of lavender and lilac, as it is on this occasion.
That pretty dress is every bit as much an announcement for Ella as Hetty’s suit is for her. Ella is proclaiming that she is the lady at home, and has no need to wear anything resembling work clothes. The dress is Ella’s way of saying that for her, the afternoon is more of a social engagement.
More than that, though, it’s also a way of putting her guests, both Hetty and the gentleman, at ease. A lady in a pretty dress pouring tea is exactly who and what one might expect in a comfortable parlor in Washington Square, perhaps taking a bit of the edge off what may turn out to be a rather uncomfortable interview.
And so, just like our modern example, a lady in a suit may well be working, and a lady in a pretty dress likely is not. Which leads to a very simple observation: clothes do not necessarily make the woman, but a wise reader always pays attention to what the female characters are wearing – and why!
Have an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Drop it in the comments!
July 2, 2020
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
A lady’s name appears in the paper three times: when she’s born, when she marries, and when she dies. Even in 1899, that was an old saw, but there was still a certain amount of currency to the idea that any female with pretentions to ladyhood had best keep herself out of the yellow sheets. Unless she was the Princess of Something, or her name was the by-line – which was still a bit suspect -- a lady simply did not make a public matter of herself.
Singers, though, are by necessity a different art form (pun fully intended!), and a certain amount of respectful attention is required if one is an artist. And so, Ella Shane finds herself posing for the occasional carte de visite.
In the days before glossy celebrity magazines, cartes de visite were the way people got to see their famous favorites. Slightly larger than our modern baseball cards, they would feature a picture of anyone from a revered writer – to a “professional beauty” – to, yes, a singer. Usually, because photography was still serious business, the subject was sitting there trying to look important and soulful. It’s no wonder Ella hates the things.
But they were madly popular, and people collected them like baseball cards. There are hundreds in the NYPL Digital Collections, mostly extremely dull shots of people whose names we no longer recognize attempting to impress posterity. If only they knew.
Cartes de visite figure several times in A FATAL FINALE. Ella’s unfortunate Juliet, who dies onstage after drinking real poison (Accident – or murder? You’ll have to read it to find out!) has a collection. The young woman’s cards, kept in a box that is an important clue of its own, tell us about her aspirations: beauties, actresses and famous singers – including one of Ella as Romeo. Plus, more than once, Ella and her singing partner Marie grouse about having to pose for new pictures for their coming production.
Despite her complaints, Ella does have an advantage. Her cartes de visite feature her in costume as Romeo, or another heroic male character, so she has little need to worry about anyone recognizing her as her offstage self. She doesn’t anyway, really, because in 1899, we’re still well before the age of celebrities. People might look twice at her in the street if they recognized her, and perhaps offer an opinion on a recent show if they were very bold, but she doesn’t have to contend with screaming followers – not that most opera singers inspire such adulation, anyway.
The few people who do recognize her generally let her be, unless they’re very young and starstruck. In A FATAL FINALE, little Betsy Martin recognizes Ella from the Romeo carte de visite she uses as a bookmark and asks for an autograph, which our diva is happy to give, even if she has to borrow a pencil from her reporter friend Hetty. It would never occur to Ella to travel prepared for autograph-signing, because it’s a rare event.
And yes, while Ella truly HATES the way she looks in these cards, she’s still well ahead of most of the world…especially poor Marie Aimee in that card you saw earlier, who may be quite the singer, but sure doesn’t quite have the look. Ella, in case you need to push that out of your mind’s eye, is tall, strawberry-blonde, a bit slimmer than fashionable in 1899…and her costumer Anna would never put her in that awful satin suit! Just sayin’!
Got an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Tell me in the comments!
Singers, though, are by necessity a different art form (pun fully intended!), and a certain amount of respectful attention is required if one is an artist. And so, Ella Shane finds herself posing for the occasional carte de visite.
In the days before glossy celebrity magazines, cartes de visite were the way people got to see their famous favorites. Slightly larger than our modern baseball cards, they would feature a picture of anyone from a revered writer – to a “professional beauty” – to, yes, a singer. Usually, because photography was still serious business, the subject was sitting there trying to look important and soulful. It’s no wonder Ella hates the things.
But they were madly popular, and people collected them like baseball cards. There are hundreds in the NYPL Digital Collections, mostly extremely dull shots of people whose names we no longer recognize attempting to impress posterity. If only they knew.
Cartes de visite figure several times in A FATAL FINALE. Ella’s unfortunate Juliet, who dies onstage after drinking real poison (Accident – or murder? You’ll have to read it to find out!) has a collection. The young woman’s cards, kept in a box that is an important clue of its own, tell us about her aspirations: beauties, actresses and famous singers – including one of Ella as Romeo. Plus, more than once, Ella and her singing partner Marie grouse about having to pose for new pictures for their coming production.
Despite her complaints, Ella does have an advantage. Her cartes de visite feature her in costume as Romeo, or another heroic male character, so she has little need to worry about anyone recognizing her as her offstage self. She doesn’t anyway, really, because in 1899, we’re still well before the age of celebrities. People might look twice at her in the street if they recognized her, and perhaps offer an opinion on a recent show if they were very bold, but she doesn’t have to contend with screaming followers – not that most opera singers inspire such adulation, anyway.
The few people who do recognize her generally let her be, unless they’re very young and starstruck. In A FATAL FINALE, little Betsy Martin recognizes Ella from the Romeo carte de visite she uses as a bookmark and asks for an autograph, which our diva is happy to give, even if she has to borrow a pencil from her reporter friend Hetty. It would never occur to Ella to travel prepared for autograph-signing, because it’s a rare event.
And yes, while Ella truly HATES the way she looks in these cards, she’s still well ahead of most of the world…especially poor Marie Aimee in that card you saw earlier, who may be quite the singer, but sure doesn’t quite have the look. Ella, in case you need to push that out of your mind’s eye, is tall, strawberry-blonde, a bit slimmer than fashionable in 1899…and her costumer Anna would never put her in that awful satin suit! Just sayin’!
Got an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Tell me in the comments!
June 25, 2020
...And Ladies in the Stands
Never mind if a diva can love a Duke, there’s a much more immediate question in A FATAL FINALE: can a diva really love baseball? If the diva is Ella Shane, the answer is a resounding yes. But Ella’s fondness for the game is actually a lot less unusual than you might think.
Even in the early 1880s, some baseball teams were offering Ladies’ Days to encourage their distaff supporters, and by the late 1880s, First Lady Frances Cleveland was known to be a fancier, so attending the game was unimpeachably ladylike. Well, of course, as long as one obeyed all the other rules of feminine behavior. Which meant showing up properly chaperoned and dressed, and minding one’s p’s and q’s whilst cheering on the home team.
That doesn’t mean the gents were all that happy about it. Men famously groused about the ladies’ big hats…but one suspects their real complaint was the fact that they had to watch their language. Even at a baseball game, a man with even the most minimal pretentions to decency could not use profanity in the presence of a female – whatever provocation his team might give him.
By 1899, New York is well-supplied with professional baseball, and it’s not surprising that Ella and her soprano friend Marie de l’Artois are both fans, though of different teams. Marie, known at home in Brooklyn as Mrs. Winslow, gets a much better deal. Her team, the Brooklyn Superbas, is in the midst of a pennant season. Ella’s beloved Giants, though, are still far from the coming glory days at the Polo Grounds, with a wretched season in the basement, only finishing ahead of the Washington Senators and Cleveland Spiders.
And no, the Spiders aren’t just a convenient target; they really were the joke of the National League. In 1899, they won just 20 games and lost 134. When Ella snipes, as she’s been known to do, that the Spiders’ own fans have stopped going to games, she’s not kidding. They really did trail the League in attendance too.
For Ella, the trip uptown to the Polo Grounds with her cousin Tommy and his sportswriter friends is a pleasant and relaxing day out, but it’s far more for her reporter friend Hetty. One of two women on the staff of the Beacon, she’s hoping for a chance to show her sportswriting chops with a feature on lady fans. But she quickly runs into one major problem: to sit in the press box, one must be a member of the Baseball Writers…and to be a Baseball Writer, one must be a man.
That, unfortunately, is not historical fiction. Sportswriting was, and would be, a male preserve for a very long time. As much as Ella enjoys reading her beloved mentor Preston Dare’s columns – and as much as I love the works of Preston’s real-life heirs Frank Deford and Roger Kahn – it’s impossible to ignore the fact that women writers just didn’t get the same opportunities as men. Even though Hetty repeatedly proves her mettle, her editor tells her: somebody has to write about hats, and that somebody’s going to be a woman.
Still, Ella and her friends in the stands at the Polo Grounds are early signs of a very big change. It’s not lost on some of the crankier male fans that if women want to come to the ball game today, they might want to come to the polls tomorrow…and then Heaven only knows what!
Got an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Tell me in the comments!
Even in the early 1880s, some baseball teams were offering Ladies’ Days to encourage their distaff supporters, and by the late 1880s, First Lady Frances Cleveland was known to be a fancier, so attending the game was unimpeachably ladylike. Well, of course, as long as one obeyed all the other rules of feminine behavior. Which meant showing up properly chaperoned and dressed, and minding one’s p’s and q’s whilst cheering on the home team.
That doesn’t mean the gents were all that happy about it. Men famously groused about the ladies’ big hats…but one suspects their real complaint was the fact that they had to watch their language. Even at a baseball game, a man with even the most minimal pretentions to decency could not use profanity in the presence of a female – whatever provocation his team might give him.
By 1899, New York is well-supplied with professional baseball, and it’s not surprising that Ella and her soprano friend Marie de l’Artois are both fans, though of different teams. Marie, known at home in Brooklyn as Mrs. Winslow, gets a much better deal. Her team, the Brooklyn Superbas, is in the midst of a pennant season. Ella’s beloved Giants, though, are still far from the coming glory days at the Polo Grounds, with a wretched season in the basement, only finishing ahead of the Washington Senators and Cleveland Spiders.
And no, the Spiders aren’t just a convenient target; they really were the joke of the National League. In 1899, they won just 20 games and lost 134. When Ella snipes, as she’s been known to do, that the Spiders’ own fans have stopped going to games, she’s not kidding. They really did trail the League in attendance too.
For Ella, the trip uptown to the Polo Grounds with her cousin Tommy and his sportswriter friends is a pleasant and relaxing day out, but it’s far more for her reporter friend Hetty. One of two women on the staff of the Beacon, she’s hoping for a chance to show her sportswriting chops with a feature on lady fans. But she quickly runs into one major problem: to sit in the press box, one must be a member of the Baseball Writers…and to be a Baseball Writer, one must be a man.
That, unfortunately, is not historical fiction. Sportswriting was, and would be, a male preserve for a very long time. As much as Ella enjoys reading her beloved mentor Preston Dare’s columns – and as much as I love the works of Preston’s real-life heirs Frank Deford and Roger Kahn – it’s impossible to ignore the fact that women writers just didn’t get the same opportunities as men. Even though Hetty repeatedly proves her mettle, her editor tells her: somebody has to write about hats, and that somebody’s going to be a woman.
Still, Ella and her friends in the stands at the Polo Grounds are early signs of a very big change. It’s not lost on some of the crankier male fans that if women want to come to the ball game today, they might want to come to the polls tomorrow…and then Heaven only knows what!
Got an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Tell me in the comments!
June 18, 2020
SHARE A RHYME?
Reciting was what people did before binge-watching. Way before binge-watching. At least you’d think so, if -- like me -- you grew up on Anne of Green Gables, and the Little House on the Prairie books.
Take Little House: seems like every time the Ingalls clan is stuck at home, Mary and Laura are reeling off Bible verses, usually in some kind of edgy little competition that Mary always wins because she’s the good one. And then you want to smack Mary and you feel bad, and…Anyway, reciting isn’t nearly as fraught, or as religious, in Avonlea. There, giving poetry and other literary pieces starts as a form of recreation, and eventually becomes a performance art at which our girl Anne is quite skilled – of course!
Whatever the emotional baggage, recitation makes good sense as nineteenth-century entertainment, because it’s the perfect hybrid of the old oral tradition and the new reading culture. And people apparently did quite a lot of it.
That also makes sense, because while people had access to books, they were still very expensive for many families, so you only bought the books you really prized, and you got as much as you could out of them. Hence memorizing the Bible. Or poems, if you were of a literary bent. If you were lucky enough to have a library in your town, you might well memorize verses or passages from books that were special to you…or perhaps write them out in your journal so you could remember them.
Recitations as performance are also entirely consistent with late-nineteenth century culture. Most people didn’t have the luxury of living in New York, where on any given night, you could see a really good show in a great theatre…or at least a decent one, if you had the money. Even with a strong vaudeville circuit, in many towns, professional theatre was a rare treat. So if you wanted entertainment, it was often: “Hey, kids, let’s put on a show!”
Which meant that plenty of people were at least competent at memorization and recitation…and that it was an expected accomplishment for many a young lady. Or a gentleman who hoped to court a young lady.
For Ella Shane, of course, used to memorizing opera scores in several different languages, it’s no great achievement to know the moving final lines of Walt Whitman’s “When Lilac Last by the Dooryard Bloom’d.” But it certainly comes as a surprise to her that the Duke knows them too. When they find themselves reciting them together at dinner with her family one night in A FATAL FINALE, it feels like something very special has happened -- and it has.
Reading poetry together was another of those entirely respectable activities for courting couples that could feel very romantic indeed in an age when one spent a lot of time exploring a person’s mind and soul because their body was strictly off-limits. So even though they’re just reciting a mournful tribute to a man they both revere, Abraham Lincoln, Ella and her new friend come away feeling like they’ve just touched each other’s spirits. Hard not to with these lines from Whitman:
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.
And we’ll leave it there for this week. Have an idea for the next Throwback Thursday? Tell me in the comments!
Take Little House: seems like every time the Ingalls clan is stuck at home, Mary and Laura are reeling off Bible verses, usually in some kind of edgy little competition that Mary always wins because she’s the good one. And then you want to smack Mary and you feel bad, and…Anyway, reciting isn’t nearly as fraught, or as religious, in Avonlea. There, giving poetry and other literary pieces starts as a form of recreation, and eventually becomes a performance art at which our girl Anne is quite skilled – of course!
Whatever the emotional baggage, recitation makes good sense as nineteenth-century entertainment, because it’s the perfect hybrid of the old oral tradition and the new reading culture. And people apparently did quite a lot of it.
That also makes sense, because while people had access to books, they were still very expensive for many families, so you only bought the books you really prized, and you got as much as you could out of them. Hence memorizing the Bible. Or poems, if you were of a literary bent. If you were lucky enough to have a library in your town, you might well memorize verses or passages from books that were special to you…or perhaps write them out in your journal so you could remember them.
Recitations as performance are also entirely consistent with late-nineteenth century culture. Most people didn’t have the luxury of living in New York, where on any given night, you could see a really good show in a great theatre…or at least a decent one, if you had the money. Even with a strong vaudeville circuit, in many towns, professional theatre was a rare treat. So if you wanted entertainment, it was often: “Hey, kids, let’s put on a show!”
Which meant that plenty of people were at least competent at memorization and recitation…and that it was an expected accomplishment for many a young lady. Or a gentleman who hoped to court a young lady.
For Ella Shane, of course, used to memorizing opera scores in several different languages, it’s no great achievement to know the moving final lines of Walt Whitman’s “When Lilac Last by the Dooryard Bloom’d.” But it certainly comes as a surprise to her that the Duke knows them too. When they find themselves reciting them together at dinner with her family one night in A FATAL FINALE, it feels like something very special has happened -- and it has.
Reading poetry together was another of those entirely respectable activities for courting couples that could feel very romantic indeed in an age when one spent a lot of time exploring a person’s mind and soul because their body was strictly off-limits. So even though they’re just reciting a mournful tribute to a man they both revere, Abraham Lincoln, Ella and her new friend come away feeling like they’ve just touched each other’s spirits. Hard not to with these lines from Whitman:
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.
And we’ll leave it there for this week. Have an idea for the next Throwback Thursday? Tell me in the comments!
June 11, 2020
Why Aren't You Up Yet?
Sleeping in was not a Victorian thing. A respectable lady was awake at respectable hour to tend to her home and family. Oh, yes, those decadent aristocrats who stay out into the wee hours dancing at their nasty parties no doubt need to sleep deep into the midday, but, as Ella Shane’s upright and rather terrifying Aunt MaryKat would happily point out at any opportunity, “decent people keep decent hours.”
And really, while most folks didn’t express it with the asperity of Aunt MaryKat, people outside the highest upper-class circles generally followed the old advice usually attributed to Ben Franklin about early to bed and early to rise. For women, much of the “early to bed” part was sheer exhaustion. Even if you had servants (and most even minimally comfortable people had at least one), you still had to tell them what to do, and usually work alongside them to accomplish the most basic tasks. Just getting breakfast on the table could be a multi-hour production, never mind cleaning up after it. More, blacking the stove and scouring skillets was a treat compared to the dreaded laundry day. That meant every female in the house was awake before the birds, and hard at the weekly boiling, scrubbing, and ironing required to keep everyone clean and next to godliness.
No wonder women hired cooks and sent out the laundry the second they could afford to do so!
With all of that work to start the day, sleeping late was inherently suspect; you’re in bed when you should be up and doing your part. Add in the association with those questionable high society types -- not to mention the fact that the only women who were out late at night were the sort respectable females aren’t supposed to know about…and you have plenty of ladies who are very motivated to get up early and make sure everyone knows it.
Which brings us to Ella, who absolutely must sleep late on occasion. Her mentor, Madame Lentini, following the advice of many health experts of the time, insisted that she should always make sure to get a good night’s sleep (eight hours or so by Victorian standards, just like ours). But if the clock starts at two or three, after a performance, perhaps a small snack, and a relaxing medicinal sherry, you’re still well past any wakeup time that most people would consider decent – especially Aunt MaryKat.
All of that makes Ella more than a little defensive about sleeping in – pointing up one of the very few areas where our rather modern diva is a truly old-fashioned girl. So that’s why, when she comes downstairs around eleven-thirty the morning after a benefit in A FATAL FINALE, she reminds us that she is practicing discipline, not decadence. For a Lower East Side orphan made good, it’s bad enough to be doing something vaguely not respectable – but truly intolerable that anyone might think she was lacking in work ethic.
So if you wonder why on earth Ella feels the need to justify sleeping in, even though she works all night, comes straight home from her show, and tucks herself in like a good maiden lady…it’s because she can almost hear Aunt MaryKat’s sharp voice: “Well, it must be nice to be able to just lie abed!”
She’s too nice to suggest that a little extra sleep might improve Aunt MaryKat’s humor. But I’m not!
Have an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Share it in the comments!
And really, while most folks didn’t express it with the asperity of Aunt MaryKat, people outside the highest upper-class circles generally followed the old advice usually attributed to Ben Franklin about early to bed and early to rise. For women, much of the “early to bed” part was sheer exhaustion. Even if you had servants (and most even minimally comfortable people had at least one), you still had to tell them what to do, and usually work alongside them to accomplish the most basic tasks. Just getting breakfast on the table could be a multi-hour production, never mind cleaning up after it. More, blacking the stove and scouring skillets was a treat compared to the dreaded laundry day. That meant every female in the house was awake before the birds, and hard at the weekly boiling, scrubbing, and ironing required to keep everyone clean and next to godliness.
No wonder women hired cooks and sent out the laundry the second they could afford to do so!
With all of that work to start the day, sleeping late was inherently suspect; you’re in bed when you should be up and doing your part. Add in the association with those questionable high society types -- not to mention the fact that the only women who were out late at night were the sort respectable females aren’t supposed to know about…and you have plenty of ladies who are very motivated to get up early and make sure everyone knows it.
Which brings us to Ella, who absolutely must sleep late on occasion. Her mentor, Madame Lentini, following the advice of many health experts of the time, insisted that she should always make sure to get a good night’s sleep (eight hours or so by Victorian standards, just like ours). But if the clock starts at two or three, after a performance, perhaps a small snack, and a relaxing medicinal sherry, you’re still well past any wakeup time that most people would consider decent – especially Aunt MaryKat.
All of that makes Ella more than a little defensive about sleeping in – pointing up one of the very few areas where our rather modern diva is a truly old-fashioned girl. So that’s why, when she comes downstairs around eleven-thirty the morning after a benefit in A FATAL FINALE, she reminds us that she is practicing discipline, not decadence. For a Lower East Side orphan made good, it’s bad enough to be doing something vaguely not respectable – but truly intolerable that anyone might think she was lacking in work ethic.
So if you wonder why on earth Ella feels the need to justify sleeping in, even though she works all night, comes straight home from her show, and tucks herself in like a good maiden lady…it’s because she can almost hear Aunt MaryKat’s sharp voice: “Well, it must be nice to be able to just lie abed!”
She’s too nice to suggest that a little extra sleep might improve Aunt MaryKat’s humor. But I’m not!
Have an idea for a Throwback Thursday post? Share it in the comments!
June 4, 2020
NO WORDS? FLOWERS!
If you’re not sure what to say, and how to say it (as so many of us have been in the last few weeks) it might just be time to say it with flowers. The Victorians knew that, and for them, a bouquet was far more than a simple expression of esteem…it was often also an elaborate statement.
This goes well beyond the big sheaf of red roses that has become the classic Valentine’s day signature of every hopeful husband or boyfriend. Though, of course, the red rose is indeed the symbol of ardent romantic love. Also, if you are Ella Shane, the symbol of the stage-door Lothario, which is why she absolutely despises red roses!
While red roses are undoubtedly THE symbol of passion, a swain looking to send a more nuanced message to his lady might try for a different sort of offering. Let’s stick with that bouquet of roses, but make it a little more colorful. White roses for a new beginning, lavender for love at first sight, pink for grace, happiness and gentleness, and if our guy is feeling a little saucy, orange for desire and enthusiasm. Or, conversely, you could mark a bad breakup with yellow roses for jealousy and infidelity, and deep dark crimson ones for mourning.
And that’s just with roses. Royal watchers probably remember that Kate Middleton had a number of meaningful plants tucked into her bouquet, including myrtle, which means good luck in a marriage, and sweet William – a reference to the groom. Victorian brides, and many modern ones, don’t feel properly blessed without their orange blossom, which has been the classic floral symbol of marriage and fruitfulness for centuries.
Courtships, of course, offer a multitude of opportunities for floral expressions. A man might send pink and white camellias to a new flame to tell her she’s adorable and he’s longing for her…and have the florist throw in some sweet basil for good luck. Or perhaps a bouquet of daisies to suggest the innocence and hopefulness of his love. When the Duke brings Ella lilacs at the end of A FATAL FINALE, he’s not just calling back to the Walt Whitman poem they recited together…he’s also hinting at the first sign of love.
But you don’t have to have romantic intentions to send a floral message. The language of flowers, then and now, expands to cover any number of situations, from the lilies and gladiolus that are fixtures at funerals, because they signify purity, hope and strength…to the bouquet of colorful zinnias sent to a faraway friend to show you’re thinking of her. Less-friendly messages are also an option, like a flat goodbye with cyclamen…or a few floral slaps with foxglove for insincerity, peonies for shame, or lavender for distrust.
You can also use flowers to send more general messages. Need an infusion of hope and strength? A vase of irises or a sweet little bouquet of snowdrops will get you there. Want to send a friend some joy? Delphiniums or chrysanthemums are a good choice. And if you want to show gratitude, you can’t go wrong with bellflowers…hydrangeas – or the dahlias that I posted on social media today.
Because I have a message too: thank you for reading – the blog, the book, the posts – everything. I can’t tell you how grateful I am…but maybe that dahlia helps show it!
Got an idea for the next Throwback Thursday? Post it in the comments.
This goes well beyond the big sheaf of red roses that has become the classic Valentine’s day signature of every hopeful husband or boyfriend. Though, of course, the red rose is indeed the symbol of ardent romantic love. Also, if you are Ella Shane, the symbol of the stage-door Lothario, which is why she absolutely despises red roses!
While red roses are undoubtedly THE symbol of passion, a swain looking to send a more nuanced message to his lady might try for a different sort of offering. Let’s stick with that bouquet of roses, but make it a little more colorful. White roses for a new beginning, lavender for love at first sight, pink for grace, happiness and gentleness, and if our guy is feeling a little saucy, orange for desire and enthusiasm. Or, conversely, you could mark a bad breakup with yellow roses for jealousy and infidelity, and deep dark crimson ones for mourning.
And that’s just with roses. Royal watchers probably remember that Kate Middleton had a number of meaningful plants tucked into her bouquet, including myrtle, which means good luck in a marriage, and sweet William – a reference to the groom. Victorian brides, and many modern ones, don’t feel properly blessed without their orange blossom, which has been the classic floral symbol of marriage and fruitfulness for centuries.
Courtships, of course, offer a multitude of opportunities for floral expressions. A man might send pink and white camellias to a new flame to tell her she’s adorable and he’s longing for her…and have the florist throw in some sweet basil for good luck. Or perhaps a bouquet of daisies to suggest the innocence and hopefulness of his love. When the Duke brings Ella lilacs at the end of A FATAL FINALE, he’s not just calling back to the Walt Whitman poem they recited together…he’s also hinting at the first sign of love.
But you don’t have to have romantic intentions to send a floral message. The language of flowers, then and now, expands to cover any number of situations, from the lilies and gladiolus that are fixtures at funerals, because they signify purity, hope and strength…to the bouquet of colorful zinnias sent to a faraway friend to show you’re thinking of her. Less-friendly messages are also an option, like a flat goodbye with cyclamen…or a few floral slaps with foxglove for insincerity, peonies for shame, or lavender for distrust.
You can also use flowers to send more general messages. Need an infusion of hope and strength? A vase of irises or a sweet little bouquet of snowdrops will get you there. Want to send a friend some joy? Delphiniums or chrysanthemums are a good choice. And if you want to show gratitude, you can’t go wrong with bellflowers…hydrangeas – or the dahlias that I posted on social media today.
Because I have a message too: thank you for reading – the blog, the book, the posts – everything. I can’t tell you how grateful I am…but maybe that dahlia helps show it!
Got an idea for the next Throwback Thursday? Post it in the comments.
May 28, 2020
FRESH AIR AND SUNSHINE NEVER HURT ANYONE...DID IT?
Yes, the Victorians were obsessed with fresh air (Queen Victoria herself never saw a window she didn’t want to open!) and they were pretty fond of sunshine, too. But they were not at all interested in what a day out in all of that light and air would do to a lady’s skin. In the late 1800s, there were no reliable sunscreens, and no really good ways to deal with the after-effects of a sunburn beyond home remedies like buttermilk to ease the pain or lemon juice for the freckles and discoloration. Not to mention the fact that the idea of a status suntan was still several decades away.
In the Gilded Age, we are still very much in the era of fashionable pallor (and all of that whiteness carries plenty of its own issues). For all of what we’d now consider the wrong reasons, the ladies were absolutely determined to avoid sun damage with any means they had. Problem was, they didn’t have very many.
So it was umbrellas and parasols. Big, serviceable ones for the beach, and cute little ones for the promenade, but always something. Fashion plates always show ladies walking with them, and it seems like a spiffy fashion statement. Indeed it was, but before sunscreen and a fast way home, a lady needed to be prepared for anything.
Not just with the parasol, either. I recently posted some lovely vintage beach postcards on social media, and the first thing one friend said was, “Wow, look at all the clothes!” As in – all of the layers of clothes! Now it’s true that on any given day, a respectable woman would have at least four or five layers on (combinations – that’s underwear to you -- a couple of petticoats, shirtwaist, jacket and possibly coat), but back then the beach required one to add to the ensemble, not delete!
On a very hot day, the layers would be lightweight and white, but they’d still be there. Long sleeves and high necks were modest, of course, and that was important for a respectable lady in daytime…but they were equally helpful in protecting exposed skin from the sun.
Then, come the accessories.
A hat, of course, and even if the current fashion was for a frilly little nod in the direction of millinery, sun protection required a serious hat. Broad-brimmed straw hats never really went out of fashion in the summer; they might be trimmed up differently, depending on the colors and preferences of the moment, but it was hard to argue with a style that did such a good job of covering the face, and often the neck and decollete as well. Veils, too, were often part of the picture, whether full face (popular when driving) or just tied around the hat to be pulled out for more cover as needed. When Ella goes for her first walk in the park with the Duke, she's wearing a great big hat, and she doesn't care at all about the fashion consequences.
Don’t forget the gloves. Almost as important as the face were smooth hands. While the amount of work involved in running any basically clean and decent home was mind-boggling, most ladies weren’t doing that much of it. And they certainly weren’t willing to risk their dainty hands in the sun. So gloves it was. Long with a short-sleeved dress, short for a wrist-length sleeve, often with sweet little buttons at the wrist, and various adorable trimmings.
Pretty, and ready for the sun. Now if we could just find a good book to read on the beach…
In the Gilded Age, we are still very much in the era of fashionable pallor (and all of that whiteness carries plenty of its own issues). For all of what we’d now consider the wrong reasons, the ladies were absolutely determined to avoid sun damage with any means they had. Problem was, they didn’t have very many.
So it was umbrellas and parasols. Big, serviceable ones for the beach, and cute little ones for the promenade, but always something. Fashion plates always show ladies walking with them, and it seems like a spiffy fashion statement. Indeed it was, but before sunscreen and a fast way home, a lady needed to be prepared for anything.
Not just with the parasol, either. I recently posted some lovely vintage beach postcards on social media, and the first thing one friend said was, “Wow, look at all the clothes!” As in – all of the layers of clothes! Now it’s true that on any given day, a respectable woman would have at least four or five layers on (combinations – that’s underwear to you -- a couple of petticoats, shirtwaist, jacket and possibly coat), but back then the beach required one to add to the ensemble, not delete!
On a very hot day, the layers would be lightweight and white, but they’d still be there. Long sleeves and high necks were modest, of course, and that was important for a respectable lady in daytime…but they were equally helpful in protecting exposed skin from the sun.
Then, come the accessories.
A hat, of course, and even if the current fashion was for a frilly little nod in the direction of millinery, sun protection required a serious hat. Broad-brimmed straw hats never really went out of fashion in the summer; they might be trimmed up differently, depending on the colors and preferences of the moment, but it was hard to argue with a style that did such a good job of covering the face, and often the neck and decollete as well. Veils, too, were often part of the picture, whether full face (popular when driving) or just tied around the hat to be pulled out for more cover as needed. When Ella goes for her first walk in the park with the Duke, she's wearing a great big hat, and she doesn't care at all about the fashion consequences.
Don’t forget the gloves. Almost as important as the face were smooth hands. While the amount of work involved in running any basically clean and decent home was mind-boggling, most ladies weren’t doing that much of it. And they certainly weren’t willing to risk their dainty hands in the sun. So gloves it was. Long with a short-sleeved dress, short for a wrist-length sleeve, often with sweet little buttons at the wrist, and various adorable trimmings.
Pretty, and ready for the sun. Now if we could just find a good book to read on the beach…
May 21, 2020
NOT JUST A WALK IN THE PARK
Walking in the park, in many places, has become one of those ordinary things that seems to have extraordinary significance, because it’s been one of the few outdoor activities that are safe and permitted – even encouraged – under social distancing rules. And really, a simple walk has never been that simple for a lot of people…for example, courting, or potentially courting, couples in the Gilded Age.
In a world where young men and women, never mind single adults, lead independent and lightly-chaperoned lives, it’s hard to imagine why walking in the park was such a popular courtship option. Yes, walking and talking are fun, and scenery, of the natural and human variety are always good things…but…meh.
Not meh, though, in 1899, when a nice young lady would never have been alone with a man who was not her blood relative. (And even her fiancé would have counted himself lucky to be allowed a chaste kiss in the foyer with a protective parent spying through the pocket door!). For people who had very few chances to get to know each other as humans, never mind potential partners, a walk in the park was a great way to start.
A lady could take her swain’s arm in full propriety and converse about all manner of things without some interfering relative making sure they kept topics to improving books, classical music and recent sermons. Her escort might actually express, and defend, interesting opinions he would not dare offer under watchful eyes in her parlor. Not to mention, she might stumble on an uneven paving stone and require a hand to hold – or even, perhaps, an arm around the waist, though that would not be permitted for more than a fleeting instant.
And all of it without the least danger to her reputation – or her gentleman’s standing with her family – because of course, they were simply walking in a public place.
The very public nature of such an outing also served as a bit of a declaration as well. Consenting to be seen walking-out with someone meant that you considered them at least a potential suitor. And the neighbors would make assumptions if they saw you more than once or twice with the same person, whatever your intent.
In fact, plenty of assumptions are made when Ella goes walking with the Duke in A FATAL FINALE to discuss the search for his cousin’s killer. Ella, if not a celebrity by modern standards, is certainly known in the City, and when she’s seen with this dapper British fellow, the gossips immediately wonder if there’s a courtship underway. That’s not happy news to either Ella’s stage-door admirers or the society mama who wants the Duke for her daughter…but this time, a walk really is just a walk.
At least for now.
Let’s just say that in future visits to Washington Square Park, we may well see some of our favorite characters walking out for more than the view of the Arch.
In a world where young men and women, never mind single adults, lead independent and lightly-chaperoned lives, it’s hard to imagine why walking in the park was such a popular courtship option. Yes, walking and talking are fun, and scenery, of the natural and human variety are always good things…but…meh.
Not meh, though, in 1899, when a nice young lady would never have been alone with a man who was not her blood relative. (And even her fiancé would have counted himself lucky to be allowed a chaste kiss in the foyer with a protective parent spying through the pocket door!). For people who had very few chances to get to know each other as humans, never mind potential partners, a walk in the park was a great way to start.
A lady could take her swain’s arm in full propriety and converse about all manner of things without some interfering relative making sure they kept topics to improving books, classical music and recent sermons. Her escort might actually express, and defend, interesting opinions he would not dare offer under watchful eyes in her parlor. Not to mention, she might stumble on an uneven paving stone and require a hand to hold – or even, perhaps, an arm around the waist, though that would not be permitted for more than a fleeting instant.
And all of it without the least danger to her reputation – or her gentleman’s standing with her family – because of course, they were simply walking in a public place.
The very public nature of such an outing also served as a bit of a declaration as well. Consenting to be seen walking-out with someone meant that you considered them at least a potential suitor. And the neighbors would make assumptions if they saw you more than once or twice with the same person, whatever your intent.
In fact, plenty of assumptions are made when Ella goes walking with the Duke in A FATAL FINALE to discuss the search for his cousin’s killer. Ella, if not a celebrity by modern standards, is certainly known in the City, and when she’s seen with this dapper British fellow, the gossips immediately wonder if there’s a courtship underway. That’s not happy news to either Ella’s stage-door admirers or the society mama who wants the Duke for her daughter…but this time, a walk really is just a walk.
At least for now.
Let’s just say that in future visits to Washington Square Park, we may well see some of our favorite characters walking out for more than the view of the Arch.
