Marshall Field and Company

 

The iconic clock on the Marshall Field & Co. flagship store
Corner of State Street and Washington Street, Chicago

Sandwiches for supper turned into a trip down memory lane for me. It wasn’t just any sandwich—it was a classic Marshall Field Turkey Sandwich that actually resembles “classic” sandwiches served in many places. I remember having something similar at Colonial Country Club in Fort Worth. An open-faced sandwich with rye topped by turkey, Swiss cheese, and Thousand Island dressing and decorated with tomato, sliced egg, bacon and olive—shh! don’t tell Christian because I didn’t offer him an olive, which he loves.

Anyway, the sandwich started me thinking about my many ties and trips to the flagship Marshall Field store in downtown Chicago. Those excursions started when I was very young. My father, an osteopathic physician, had an office on the seventeenth floor of the Marshall Field Annex, and Mom would end shopping trips by taking me to the bargain basement where, hidden away in a corner, was a snack bar that far as I can remember only served hot dogs and frozen malts. I loved it. Then, nearby, was a secret door (I just thought it was a secret—it really wasn’t) that opened to a staircase. Go up one floor and through the door and, like magic, we were in the lobby of the annex without having to go out of the building and cross the downtown street. We’d take the elevator to the seventeenth floor. That was in the day when there was a white-gloved, uniformed operator in every elevator.

By the time I was old enough to be turned loose in the store, I knew every inch of every floor.  I could take you to household goods or teen clothes. I knew we came in by the glove counter, and on that pillared first floor were the hosiery and jewelry counters. On the sixth floor you could choose from several restaurants. The Walnut Room, a bit staid and dignified, was the main dining area, but Mom and I always liked The Verandah, decorated as though it were part of a southern mansion. In fact, I bet I had the classic sandwich there. And I know at least once, when Mom was nowhere around, my friend Eleanor Lee and I rode up the down escalator and down the up, to the consternation of store employees no doubt. Today I’m uncertain of my footing on escalators and avoid them when I can, so I look back on that adventure with awe.

Eventually I could go downtown by myself, riding the IC or Illinois Central commuter train. And mostly I went to Marshall Field’s though I did give a bit of business to rival Carson, Pirie & Scott just a block down State Street. I remember once paying twenty dollars for a blouse and thinking I was terribly extravagant. By then, Dad had closed his downtown office and was full time president of the Chicago College of Osteopathy and administrator of the adjacent hospital, so I had no downtown refuge.

The last time I was at Field’s was in the nineties, when I visited with a Texas friend who had grown up in a northwest Chicago suburb. We had lunch in the Walnut Room, and it was a bit shabby. We both felt the magic we remembered from our childhood was gone. But my connection to Field’s doesn’t end there.

I can’t remember which came first—the book I read or the one I wrote. The one I read was What the Lady Wants: A Novel of Marshall Field and the Gilded Age, by Renée Rosen, which perhaps inspired both the title and subject of my The Gilded Cage: A Novel of Chicago. My novel focused on Bertha (Cissy) Palmer, wife of hotelier Potter Palmer who built the Palmer House. Marshall Field played a large part in that story, for he and Potter Palmer were prominent among Chicago’s Robber Barons, along with Gustavus Swift, Philip Armour, George Pullman and others. Cissy Palmer interested me because she was the first (or one of them) woman philanthropist and most probably the first marred to a Robber Baron. The fictionalized version of her life covers Chicago history from the 1840s through the 1893 Columbian Exposition, including the Great Fire, labor troubles, the Civil War, and the Haymarket Riot. You can read a bit more about Cissy and her world here: The Gilded Cage: A Novel of Chicago - Kindle edition by Alter, Judy. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com. (That’s called blatant self promoton or BSP.)

Last night, Christian liked the Marshall Field sandwich so much he voted to keep it on the rotation of dishes we frequently have. I agreed, because not only did I like it, it brought back happy memories. There has never been another store like Field’s—not even Neiman Marcus—and I miss it. At least you can still get their much-praised Frango Mints online.

 

More cooking in the cottage

My kitchen

This is going to turn into a cooking blog if I don’t watch out. Maybe that’s not all bad. Tonight’s dinner was experimental and obviously needs work. But yesterday I asked Amy to buy scallops at Central Market—they came in a bag with ice, and she asked me what to do with it. “Just throw it in the sink? I said, intending to come right back, drain the ice (they tell you not to refrigerate with ice), and put in refrigerator for tonight’s dinner. Six hours later I found the scallops still in the sink, the ice now all melted.

At first I thought I’d go ahead and cook them. I remembered the tables upon tables of raw seafood in the fishermen’s huts at Seaview, sitting out with no refrigeration. But given my stomach problems I decided that wasn’t smart and reluctantly threw them away. Double tragedy because scallops aren’t cheap and I was really looking forward to them, and because it left me with nothing for dinner. I had found a recipe for baked eggs on spinach and decided to try it, though I have no way to bake.

Taste was good, flavors blended well, but I need to work on my cooking technique.

The induction burner cooks hot and quickly, and while I was waiting for the top of my eggs to solidify, the bottom was turning into hard-cooked egg—not the way I pref3er. The recipe called for a toasted English muffin (I tried to saute several baguette slices and burned them), bacon (frozen, so I left it out), and an egg—I used two for good measure. Obviously my limited cooking facilities and ingredients made a huge difference, but I think the recipe has potential.

I need the toaster oven out here but have avoided it for lack of counter space. The Burtons have my wonderful, handmade wooden butcher block in storage, and we’ll measure to see if it will fit in the kitchen area.

This was the kind of day that renews my faith in myself—I got a lot done. Finished reading a book for the Sarton competition and turned in the evaluation (hate that part of it) and did the internet search on the Ferris wheel. I know a lot about it and about Ferris himself from The Gilded Cage but needed to get facts and dates back in mind. I’ll do a guest blog on the wheel later in the month if you want to watch for it. But the whole story, with its impossible outrageousness, intrigues me. One of what I judge the better scenes in The Gilded Cage occurs on the original Ferris wheel.

So now I’m going to treat myself to a cozy mystery.

I gave a party and no one came

With Jordan at The Gilded Cage book signing

It happens to all authors at least once and many more often. It’s not exactly true that no one came—I’d say about twelve non-family members came, but they were all people who are like family to me. Jordan’s good friend David, whom I’ve known since their high school days, wandered in first, and he, Jordan, Jacob and I sat alone, looking forlorn I’m sure, for over an hour. Just before party time we had a heck of a rainstorm—I thought my umbrella and I were going to be blown away in horizontal rain. Jacob was supposed to shepherd me but he abandoned his duty and ran for cover. Jordan came and helped me.

Jordan put this party together, and put her heart and soul into organizing it. It was at the Wine Haus but Chadra next door delivers appetizers, and she ordered a delicious assortment. I sold seven copies of my novel, The Gilded Cage, and two copies of the children’s book that started me investigating the life of Bertha Honoré Cissy Palmer—the children’s copies were a bonus and last minute thought.

Jordan, Chandry and Marj--good friends at the signing

There are several ways to look at this: some authors have parties and don’t sell any books. Seven is not great, but it’s okay. And I got lots of emails from people who were put off by the weather, by illness, travel, work, etc. So the word was out and some who wrote to me had already bought the book.

This book is, as I’ve said, a major effort on my part, my “big” book, the result of probably ten years of writing, putting it aside, writing and revising, changing the voice of the narrator. It represents hours and hours of work on my part, and I desperately want it to do well. I also hope that it gathers a national audience, not just Texas. It’s set in my hometown of Chicago, unlike my Texas-based mysteries. So I’m hoping some other measures that I’ve taken will bring it the attention I think it deserves—I’ll be on a blog tour in late May and early June arranged by the Historical Fiction Blog Tours—they know the sites for readers of historical fiction—and I’ve hired a publicist every other month for three months. We’ll see if these investments pan out—or prove to be, like tonight, a big bust.

So tonight I’m neither elated nor disappointed. It is what it was. I enjoyed the evening with friends--most of whom were Jordan’s friends who are like other children to me—and I was glad to see the close friends who went to dinner with us afterward.

A bonus to the day: this morning a lovely woman who has a used-book stall in a local antique mall came to go through my books and bought 134 books. Nope, it didn’t by any means wipe out my bookshelves but it was a start. My friend Carol Roark arranged it, was here to help, and has ideas for the rest of the books. A step forward in the long downsizing process, and it’s reassuring to know she found my books interesting.

All in all, progress and a lovely day.

A rainy launch day

Today is the official launch day for The Gilded Cage, but as so often with such things it feels a bit anti-climactic because I’ve been talking about the book so much. Still it’s been a good day—Amazon helped me boost it. One of my friends got an email from them announcing publication, so I gather others did too. Then they asked if I wanted to promote it to my Amazon friends and I of course said yes. So I presume they sent out another announcement with a blurb.

No launch party today. It will be April 29—Fort Worth folks, mark your calendars (and please note some of you may have gotten an earlier mistaken date—it’s Friday, not Thursday). Five to seven p.m. at The Wine Haus, 1628 Park Place Avenue, Fort Worth, 76110. You’re on your own for wine but I will provide snacks. Let’s party! I’ll for sure be reminding folks again. I’ve already heard from several who say they’ll be there and some who have ordered the book because they can’t come. It’s on Amazon—but do come party. I’d love to see you.

Today I’m worried about my kids and grandkids in Tomball, about 40 miles northwest of Houston. The picture above is a composite of their property looks like—lake high, half-finished swimming pool full of rain water. The last picture is what happened when my grandson put buttermilk on his cereal. Makes me laugh. They tell me they are okay, all stayed home today including my workaholic son. Only problem is a roof leak which he optimistically says is no big deal. Houston has been declared a disaster—much worse there than in Tomball, and even Austin had a two-hour school delay.

Rain is gone for now here but apparently coming back. We had lots of thunder in the night, so I had a dog curled up on my bed. Now it’s just gray and dreary. My day was brightened by lunch with my good friend Melinda—felt like a happy camper after food, wine, and sociability, and came home and unpacked three more boxes of books. Goal for today is five. Many of those I found today were beyond hope.

Miles to go before I sleep. Must unpack two more boxes of books, do my yoga, and write 500 words on the new wip. So I’m signing off.

 

Tidbits from the Day

 

I did diddly squat today. Honest, I don’t think I accomplished one things, except to inquire how to get a mechanical (back cover, spine and front cover) all in one file for The Gilded Cage. The contractors came by, and we talked about the difficulty of dealing with the city over permits for the garage remodel. Then Greg came by and we talked gardening and a thousand other things for a long time. He has suddenly decided he wants to take out a big bushy youpon smack dab in the middle of the front of the house. “All you see is this busy green,” he said. “We’ll find an evergreen that will work there.” Sounds good to me. My house gets strictly northern exposure in front—no sun. So except in early spring it tends to look all green, and I always wish for color to brighten it. By the time they were all gone, it was almost my early lunch time.

I did stuff at the computer which seemed to occupy a lot of time—or maybe I was moving slowly but I was content and under no pressure.

Three nice things: last night I got a terrific email compliment on the excerpt I posted from The Gilded Cage (see the excerpt at http://www.judyalter.com if you missed it) and then a friend and Megan both forwarded Amazon emails which had apparently gone to everyone who ever bought one of my books.  It highlighted The Gilded Cage, now available for pre-order (http://www.amazon.com/Gilded-Cage-Novel-Chicago-ebook/dp/B01C348KTS/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1456968092&sr=1-1&keywords=the+gilded+cage+judy+alter) Please note if you search for it: there are a lot of novels named The Gilded cage (my bad) and you’ll find it if you add my name after the title.

And the third thing: I got my first pre-order, from a bookstore in Wisconsin which cheers me because it’s in the right part of the country. Pretty heady stuff for a newcomer to indie publishing.

My niece came to pick up a set of my mom’s china I had set aside for her. My heart danced when she said, “I’m thrilled to have something that belonged to Grandmother.” I’m sure she was remembering, as I was, Sunday night dinners at Grandmother’s house when we ate off that china. Jenn brought her two beautiful daughters, and I got nice hugs. But the older girl-Emory, in second grade, has been dog bitten twice and was afraid of Sophie. So when the younger one wanted to pet Soph (we’d locked her in the office), I saw the look of alarm in Emory’s eyes. Asked her to sit on the couch by me and assured her I would keep her safe. She snuggled right in. I don’t see much of these girls, so it’s a joy now that they feel they know me well enough to hug.

Tonight weekly dinner with Betty. Since we had Jacob in tow, we went to the Tavern where he likes the mac and cheese. Christian joined us, and we had a jolly dinner.  I now have half a cheeseburger in the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch—love cold cheeseburgers.

All in all, a nice, satisfying day. And I’m sleepy way early.