Showing posts with label Galveston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Galveston. Show all posts

Saturday, July 20, 2019

Legendary Texas Hotels & New Western Romance Series



A few months back I conceived an idea to write a western romance series revolving around historic Texas hotels, some no longer in existence, others still welcoming guests today. Due to life events such as having to tear apart my office before installing new carpeting, then unpacking and re-shelving my collection of books, I haven't gotten very far with the first book in this new series.
Bookshelves on one side of my office

However, I thought I'd share a little about the story and other settings I'm considering for future books. The working title for book one is Pirate's Bride. Set in Galveston a few years before the catastrophic 1900 hurricane, it's about a time traveling Spanish pirate (he calls himself a privateer) who is whisked two hundred years ahead in time to atone for a wicked deed he was forced to commit. He lands unceremoniously in the lobby of the posh Tremont House Hotel, practically at the feet of the heroine. I blogged about the Tremont a few months ago, so I won't repeat myself, but if you like, you can check out its dramatic history here: http://tiny.cc/bamv9y
Tremont House, 2nd incarnation; courtesy of Rosenberg Library

The heroine of this tale is the widowed daughter of a wealthy Texas businessman, and she has a young daughter who enchants the pirate hero. As you might imagine he's in for some mighty shocking sights in this world of the future, and he faces obstacles on his quest for redemption, greatest of all his growing affection for the beautiful heroine and her precocious daughter.

Two other hotels I plan to feature in this series are the Menger Hotel in San Antonio and the Paso Del Norte Hotel in El Paso. The Menger is the oldest continuously operating hotel west of the Mississippi River. Opened in February 1859, the hotel featured wrought iron balconies and a stained-glass-roofed lobby. It was a huge success, bringing a touch of sophistication to the Texas frontier. It is also said to be one of the most haunted places in the Lone Star State. Hmm, maybe a ghost or two will appear in my book staged at the Menger. LOL
2005 photos by Ted Ernst; the 1865 historical photo hangs in the Cavalier Room of the Menger Hotel.
The Paso Del Norte Hotel opened in El Paso on Thanksgiving Day 1912. Standing one mile from the Mexican border, it allowed guests to watch skirmishes in Juarez, its sister city, between government troops and rebels during the Mexican Revolution. Revolutionary Poncho Villa took refuge in El Paso, another historical tidbit that could play into a fictional plot.
Paso Del Norte Hotel ca. 1913; illustration in public domain

So, what do you think of my idea for a series of hotel romances? And can you suggest other historic Texas hotels I might like to use as a setting?

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Late Victorian Men's Clothing


As I indicated last month, my current book is set in Galveston, c. 1895. So far, I have researched settings, trolleys (streetcars), a Valentine's Day blizzard, and women's Victorian fashions. No, not cowgirls. Julia, my heroine is a big city gal, the daughter of a wealthy Houston businessman, so she dresses like a lady. Well, most of the time. She might end up riding a horse or sailing the ocean, not sure yet.
Corsario (Privateer) painting and photo by Mauricio GarcĂ­a Vega; wikipedia

Now I'm researching men's clothing in the late Victorian era. My hero, Raphael, is a time traveling privateer (a pirate commissioned by his country) from 200 years earlier. He's used to wearing knee breeches and loose shirts that tied at the throat. Seeing the strange attire worn in 1895 is shock enough; being stuffed into such a monkey suit threatens his masculinity, but he will have to get used to his new duds, like 'em or not.

So, what did Raphael end up wearing? A question I finally found the answer to today on a wonderful site, the Historical Emporium. This is a retail site selling authentic Victorian and Old West apparel, but it also offers terrific descriptions of individual articles of clothing. I would love to copy and paste what I found in the men's Victorian section, but I'd rather not be sued for plagiarism. So I'll summarize.
For more details, go here: https://www.historicalemporium.com/

First, by the late Victorian era, clothing was being manufactured in factories and sold in stores and via mail-order catalogues. Men’s attire no longer had to be expensively tailored or sewn at home, although wealthy gentlemen still preferred custom tailored garments for better fit and exclusivity.
During Queen Victoria’s long reign, her son and heir Prince Edward, nicknamed “Bertie” and known as a playboy, was in modern terms a fashion icon. He traveled the world and popularized new styles. The newly rich middle classes, wishing to climb the social ladder, followed these styles, displaying wealth through clothing and possessions.
Frock coat, Victorian ers; public domain
Coats: Although the old-style frock coat gave way to the sack coat for informal day wear, the cutaway was revived in the 1880s, again becoming the choice for businessmen and gentlemen. For formal events, the tailcoat still dominated. The daring Tuxedo Coat was introduced in 1886, causing a shakeup in high society. (Raphael will likely wear a tailcoat to a formal ball.)
Cutaway coat, waistcoat, trousers & top hat; public domain
Vests: Usually called waistcoats, vests remained a staple for all classes. Shirts were basically considered undergarments and a man should not be seen in "bare shirtsleeves" by anyone other than his wife or close family.
Shirts: Since ready-to-wear clothes had become available to the public, a new shirt was quite affordable, but frequent laundering could be difficult. Detachable white collars and cuffs were vital. A proper gentleman stocked at least six collars and sets of cuffs to last a full year. They were the only part of a shirt that showed, thus hiding a dirty shirt from view. I keep thinking how nasty the man might smell. Eeuw!
Trousers: Black was the basic color for trousers, although other colors did appear. The zipper wasn't yet invented; pants featured button flies and suspender rivets. Belts did not become popular until the 1920s. For activities such as hunting, woolen breeches were worn, and knickers for sporting events. And as you western lovers know, Levi Strauss introduced denim jeans in 1873.
Hats: Tall black hats still prevailed for evening wear, but many different hat styles were available for other occasions. Derby hats remained popular; the stiff Homburg found favor during the 1880s among gentlemen and businessmen. Straw boaters might be worn during warm weather months.
Ties: Bow ties were popular during the late Victorian era, but the four-in-hand and ascot also gained popularity. Other types of ties were also mentioned in the article. Neckwear was a way to express individual style.
The article concludes: “As Victoria's reign ended and Edward ascended to the throne, men's fashion began to reflect his style even more. His preference for tweedy Norfolk jackets and Homburg hats figure prominently in men's fashion at the turn of the century.”

While we love our cowboys, it’s helpful to remember not all westerners lived on ranches, prospected for gold and silver or robbed banks and trains. A number lived in towns and cities, and they enjoyed keeping up with fashions just as we do today.
Lyn Horner is a multi-published, award-winning author of western historical romance and paranormal romantic suspense novels, all spiced with sensual romance. She is a former fashion illustrator and art instructor who resides in Fort Worth, Texas – “Where the West Begins” - with her husband and a very spoiled cat. As well as crafting passionate love stories, Lyn enjoys reading, gardening, genealogy, visiting with family and friends, and cuddling her furry, four-legged children.

Amazon Author Page: viewAuthor.at/LynHornerAmazon (universal link)
Newsletter:  Lyn’s Romance Gazette http://eepurl.com/bMYkeX
Website:  Lyn Horner’s Corner 



Wednesday, February 20, 2019

A Legend Reborn, Again and Again



I have begun writing a new book, a western historical time travel romance. Untitled as of yet, the story takes place in the 1890s on Galveston Island, mainly in the fabulous Tremont House Hotel.

The Tremont House has been called the Crown Jewel of Texas. Currently in its third incarnation, the original hotel opened its doors on San Jacinto Day in 1839. Although only a two-story building, it was the largest hotel in Texas. The Tremont attracted guests from around the country and the world. (Keep in mind that Galveston the premier entry point into Texas and much of the South at the time.)

Wealthy Victorians attended grand balls at the Tremont, Sam Houston gave his last public speech there, and cotton merchants discussed deals. Sioux chiefs sampled southern cooking, six American presidents and foreign ministers from France and England visited. During the Civil War, soldiers from the North and South stayed there at different periods.

Tragedy struck in June 1865 when fire raged through the Strand District for days, destroying several city blocks, including the Tremont. The renown landmark lay in ruins for over five years. At that point some of the island's business leaders combined to build a new hotel in the same location. They hired local architect Fred S. Steward to  design the building, but only two floors of the planned four stories were completed before the investors backed out. The structure stood uncompleted until four years later when a new group of owners engaged well known architect Nicholas Clayton to finish the job. It was said that over 2 million bricks were required for the massive, upscale hotel.
color postcard of 2nd Tremont House; courtesy Rosenberg Library Museum

The second Tremont House opened in 1877. Advertised as the city's only first-class hotel, it featured ornate architecture, lavish furnishings and even a steam-powered elevator. Political dignitaries, celebrities, military leaders and business kingpins were among its patrons.
Tremont House main lobby; courtesy Rosenberg Library Museum

The terrible 1900 hurricane that killed over 6,000 souls sent desperate people running for their lives to the top floor of the majestic hotel. Sadly, the second Tremont began to decline by the 1920s. It was outdated; guests desired more modern amenities offered by newer hotels such as the nearby Jean Lafitte. On November 1, 1928, the Tremont closed its doors, and the building was torn down.

Just before it's demolition, the Houston Chronicle wrote: "What was formerly the pride of the South has been content to drowse in the shade, dreaming after the manner of old things." The property sat vacant for many years.
Third Tremont House, a Wyndham Grand Hotel

However, the legendary hotel would be reborn in 1985 in a different location, when visionaries George and Cynthia Mitchell acquired the lavish Leon & H. Blum Building and turned it into the third Tremont House. Once the South's leading wholesale dry goods concern, the 1879 building embodies the spirit and elegance of the hotel's earlier incarnations. It stands in the revitalized Strand National Historic Landmark District, surrounded by shops, galleries, restaurants, lofts, offices and museums illustrating the island's vibrant, tumultuous history.

The next time hubby and I visit Galveston, you can bet we will be staying at the Tremont House! For now, I'm having fun plotting my characters' exploits at the second Tremont.

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Of Texas and Muscadine Wine

http://kathleenriceadams.com/

In the Old West, folks couldn’t just walk into a liquor store and pick up a bottle of their favorite hooch. Some saloons and general stores sold wine and spirits by the bottle or jug, but a goodly number of people — especially those who lived on remote homesteads — fermented or distilled their own. Homemade wine was common all over the South and West, where pulpy fruits and weeds like dandelions grew in profusion.

wild muscadine grapes (photo by Bob Peterson)
Wild muscadine and scuppernong grapes provided the base for many southern home-brews. The two varieties differ primarily in color: Muscadines are dark, from deep cherry-red to almost black; scuppernongs are green to bronze to almost white. Both are highly acidic. Failure to wear gloves while picking or mashing can leave a rash on the skin. However, the high acid content, coupled with prodigious fruit production, makes muscadines and scuppernongs excellent candidates for fermentation.

Although the muscadines and scuppernongs used in contemporary artisanal wines are cultivated like any other crop, the wild foundation stock behaved — and still behaves — much like kudzu, overgrowing everything in its path. To say the grapes are aggressive and abundant would be an understatement. The landscaping around my home can attest to that.

In fact, according to local lore, the people who owned my house in the 1920s made good use of wild muscadine grapes. They had to be sneaky about their “hobby,” though, because during Prohibition revenuers were everywhere. Reportedly, the covert libation operation was discovered when a driver lost control of his car and collided with a hastily erected addition to the house, which dutifully collapsed. Vats and vats of muscadine wine spilled into the street. I’m not sure how that worked out for the brewers, but since they were prominent citizens, I doubt anyone got in too much trouble.

The homeowners rebuilt the addition with a good deal more attention to sturdiness. I use it as an honest-to-goodness living room (as opposed to the formal living room at the front of the house) and call it “the wine cellar.”

Muscadine wine comes to the rescue of the hero in “Making Peace,” one of three short novellas in The Dumont Way, a trilogy included in the five-book boxed set A Kiss to Remember (only 99 cents at Amazon). Heroine Maggie Fannin mixes quinine with her homemade wine to treat the malaria hero Bennett Collier picked up while tramping through swamps during the Civil War.

****

Her back to him, the woman stood at a rough-hewn table against the wall on the opposite side of the hearth. Sunlight leaked through chinks in the mortar between the split logs, gleaming along a russet braid that traced a stiff backbone. A faded calico dress hung loose on a frame without softness or curves.

She turned and caught his stare in eyes the color of warm cognac. A soldier’s eyes: resigned, yet defiant; determined to go down fighting.

Levering up onto stiff arms, he braced his palms on the floor.

The woman knelt and shoved a tin cup forward. “Drink.”

His gaze dropped to the vessel for only a moment before returning to those fascinating eyes.

Her lips and brows pinched. “Drink, or I’ll pour it down your throat. I didn’t nurse you through three days of the ague just to turn around and poison you.”

The rustic music he’d heard earlier underlay the sharp words. Holding her gaze, he shifted his weight, took the cup, and drew it to his lips. The sweet wine almost hid a familiar bitterness. “You found the quinine.”

Quinine—more precious than gold to any soldier who’d spent too much time in the swamps. He’d stolen the near-empty bottle. The righteous Bennett Collier, a common thief. “You went through my saddlebags.”

“I didn’t take nothin’ else. I swear it.”

He hadn’t meant the statement as an accusation. “Nothing in there worth taking.” Except the bundle of letters from his father. I miss you, son. Keep yourself alive and come home. Three years too late. He nearly choked trying to clear his throat.

He tossed back the rest of the wine. The bitter drug sharpened a pain in his chest; the sweet wine, a bitter memory. “Muscadine.”

****

Today, most home-brewers use commercial yeast and add pectic enzyme. The latter clarifies the wine and draws more color from the grapes. Typically, those who ferment wine at home also add Campden tablets (potassium or sodium metabisulfite) to kill bacteria and inhibit the growth of wild yeast.

None of those ingredients would have been available in Maggie’s rundown shack on the the Texas mainland across the bay from Galveston, so her recipe might have looked something like the one below, which I found written in tidy cursive on a yellowed slip of paper tucked into one of my grandmother’s books. I have no idea how old the recipe is or from whence it came. The comments in parentheses are mine.

Muscadine Wine

(makes 5 gallons)
5-gallon bucket very ripe (soft and starting to shrivel) muscadine grapes

12 lbs. white sugar

Spring water (or any water without chlorine)
1. Rinse grapes. (If the grapes have been sprayed with pesticides, wash them. Otherwise just rinse. Wild yeast on the grapes’ skins and in the air, combined with sugar, causes fermentation.)

2. Mash grapes in large (glazed ceramic) crock. (The vessel should be large enough to hold the mashed grapes and the sugar with a couple of inches of “head space” between the top of the liquid and the lip of the crock.)

3. Add sugar. Give mash a good stirring.

4. Cover crock with thick cheesecloth (or use a T-shirt). Tie string around lip (to hold the cheesecloth). Set in warm place.

5. Give mash good stirring every day until stops bubbling. (The amount of yeast in the environment will determine when the mixture starts bubbling and how long the activity lasts.)

6. Strain juice into clean (glazed ceramic) crock or churn. Add spring water to make five gallons. (Again, leave head space between liquid and rim.)

7. Cover crock. Set in cool cellar or barn. Let sit six weeks. Strain into jars. (Knowing my grandmother, “jars” meant Mason jars. That’s how my grandfather bottled his moonshine. I’d use wine bottles, but what do I know?) Screw on lids, loose, for a few days. Tighten lids, let sit six months in cellar or barn.


muscadine wine
I can’t vouch for the recipe because I’ve never tried it. Use at your own risk.

Home-brewing has become a bona fide trend over the past several years, so recipes and equipment for making beer, wine, and mead are everywhere. If you'd like to attempt a more modern approach to muscadine wine-making, you may want to visit this link (from Louisiana) or this one (from Kentucky).

Be aware: Unlike in 19th-century America, today’s federal government and all U.S. states have laws governing the production of alcoholic beverages for personal consumption. According to the federal Internal Revenue Code, home-brewers may produce 200 gallons of beer or wine per calendar year if there are two or more adults residing in the household; 100 gallons per calendar year if there is only one adult residing in the household. If they produce more, they must pay federal taxes on the overage.

State regulations vary widely. In Texas, for example, the head of a household or an unmarried adult living alone may produce 200 gallons of wine, ale, malt liquor, or beer per year. Those who wish to produce more — or do so “accidentally” — not only owe state taxes in addition to federal tax, but also must acquire a license.


A Texan to the bone, Kathleen Rice Adams spends her days chasing news stories and her nights and weekends shooting it out with Wild West desperadoes. Leave the upstanding, law-abiding heroes to other folks. In Kathleen’s stories, even the good guys wear black hats.

Her short story “The Second-Best Ranger in Texas” won the Peacemaker Award for Best Western Short Fiction. Her novel Prodigal Gun won the EPIC Award for Historical Romance and is the only western historical romance ever to final for a Peacemaker in a book-length category.

Visit her hideout on the web at KathleenRiceAdams.com.



 

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Saturday, June 20, 2015

Galveston, “Yellow Jack” & UT Medical Branch



Back in late February, hubby and I visited Galveston to research the setting for my new release, Decoding Michaela (Romancing the Guardians, Book Two). On our first day there, we took an historical tour of the oldest part of the city and lunched at Fisherman’s Wharf, a wonderful seafood restaurant on the bay side of the island. Seated next to the windows, we admired the tall ship Elissa, a restored 1877 three-masted barque moored close by, outside the Texas Seaport Museum.



Photo 1 taken by sailor in U.S. Navy, in public domain; Photo 2 taken by author's husband


 
The day was cold and windy, so we passed up going aboard the ship, although my ever-helpful mate did snap several shots of her. Then we toured the museum, watched a fascinating video detailing the Elissa’s restoration, and purchased several books in the gift shop. One, Galveston A History by David G. McComb, was recommended by our historical tour guide, and it’s excellent.

While I haven’t yet read the whole book, being occupied with writing, one part caught my attention. (See why below.) In a chapter titled “The Oleander City” I came across several pages devoted to the scourge of “Yellow Jack” (yellow fever) and how the prestigious University of Texas Medical Branch came to be located on the island.

Yellow fever plagued our southern coastal cities in earlier times. New Orleans, Galveston and Houston suffered many terrible epidemics. In 1839, virtually everyone in the city of Galveston took sick with the fever. Symptoms ranged from chills, fever, headache, body aches, nervousness and jaundice to severe vomiting and coma. In the last stages, victims threw up “black vomit” caused by internal bleeding, usually resulting in death. One-fifth to one-forth of victims died. Survivors were henceforth immune to the disease.
 

Aedes aegypti, the yellow fever mosquito; note white
markings on its legs and thorax
Yellow fever is carried by a certain type of mosquito, but this was not discovered until the early 20th century, thanks to experiments conducted in Cuba by U.S. Army physician Major General Walter Reed and colleagues. Prior to then, doctors believed the fever was spread by contact with clothing and bedding soiled by victims.


Major General Walter Reed, ca. 1901; in public domain


Treatments included confinement to bed, mustard baths for the feet and plasters on the stomach, cold compresses on the forehead, moderate food, warm tea and “no busybodies in the room.” Hmm, that last one might make the sufferer feel better for a little while. You think?

“Burning tar fumigated the city, grass filled with small green frogs grew rank on the Strand [a main street], and ringing of church bells for the deceased was so constant that it irritated the sick and living.” One resident “observed the beds of the dying drawn close to open windows—white faces with cracked ice to cool them, moaning, raving, shrieking, vomiting, and a strong, sickle smell of yellow fever mixed with the heavy, sweet odor of oleanders.” ~McComb

 
Red oleander; I have one in my backyard. It's gorgeous!

Eventually, quarantine was recognized as the best way to halt the spread of an outbreak. Mosquitoes spread the disease by ingesting blood from an infected human and passing on the virus to the next person they bite. By quarantining affected people, the spread was stopped. However, harsh measures were often necessary to prevent panicked Galvestonians from fleeing the island when cases of Yellow Jack popped up. Armed militiamen stopped trains carrying terrified citizens across the bay to the mainland. All transport of goods and people between New Orleans and the island was halted, angering merchants but saving lives. The same applied to other cities. Yellow fever deaths in Galveston decreased from hundreds or thousands in earlier epidemics to only seven in 1873. From then on both Texas and Louisiana employed strict quarantines.

 According to McComb, it was Galveston’s comparatively high disease rates “which brought to it the city’s most prestigious institution, the University of Texas Medical Branch.” A key player in this accomplishment was Ashbel Smith. Called “Old Ashbarrel” behind his back, Smith was a small man with strong opinions and a hot temper. He studied medicine at Yale and in Paris, came to Texas shortly after the revolution (Texas’s of course) and became the Republic’s first surgeon general. He served in the Texas legislature, fought in the War with Mexico and was wounded fighting for the Confederacy in the Battle of Shiloh.

Statue of Ashbel smith in Baytown, his home across
 Galveston Bay form the island


A colleague of Smith's, Greensville Dowell, helped start Galveston Medical College in 1865, but the college faltered due to trouble between Dowell and the faculty. Smith helped his friend reorganize the school into the Texas Medical College in 1873. He was a trustee for the University of Texas and president of the Texas State Medical Association. As cities competed for the colleges, he argued before the legislature in favor of Galveston because "the Island City possessed size, wealth, opportunity to study diseases, noble citizens, and a school already in operation." Students needed practical experience as well as theoretical learning, he stressed, and Galveston offered that.

Opponents argued that the island was too vulnerable to hurricanes and the Texas Medical College didn't amount to much. However, the small private college graduated eight newly minted doctors in 1880, and the Galveston Daily News boasted, "No city in the south possesses better hospital accommodations and a greater diversity of diseases than Galveston."

In October 1881 Texans voted to locate the UT Medical campus in Galveston. Construction of the Ashbel Smith Medical Building was begun in 1890. John Sealy Hospital opened that same year, and the medical school -- now affectionately known as "Old Red" because of its exterior of red brick, red Texas granite columns and sandstone embellishments -- began operation in 1891.

Ashbel Smith Medical Building, photo from Wikipedia commons

 Since opening its doors, the medical school has grown from one building with 23 students and 13 faculty members to a modern health science center with more than 70 buildings, over 2,500 students and more than 1,000 faculty members. We were unable to see Old Red for ourselves because it is now completely surrounded by the sprawling complex, and I was not up to walking into the center of the maze. But I found the above photo online. Isn't the architecture magnificent?

So, why was I so interested in the history and of UT Medical Branch? Because the heroine of Decoding Michaela did her residency there and practices her specialty, psychiatry, on the island.



Now let me introduce you to Michaela and her wannabe hero, Dev Medina.


Peterson lived in Galveston’s historic East End, where nineteenth century architecture harked back to the island’s heyday. Some of the Victorian homes – Painted Ladies he’d heard them called because of their many colors – were of average size, others he would call mansions. All were ornate and pricey, meaning the doc must be doing okay, no surprise for a doctor, Dev supposed.
Familiar with the area, it didn’t take him long to find the right house. He parked out front and looked the place over. Raised on stilts or blocks like most buildings on the island after the deadly hurricane of 1900, it was two stories high but not very wide, with only a few yards separating it from neighboring homes.
Dev assumed the house had suffered flood damage in Hurricane Ike, but the owner had obviously seen to its repair. Painted light tan with darker tan and green trim, decked out with fancy Victorian gingerbread, and framed by palm trees and oleanders, the place was picture-perfect.
Striding up the pavestone walk, he climbed a flight of steps to the front door and pressed the buzzer. Nervous because he still didn’t know exactly what he would say to the doctor, he stuffed both hands in his pants pockets and waited. Within seconds, he heard footsteps approach inside. The door opened to reveal a stout woman with tan skin and graying hair combed tightly back from her round face. A dark blue dress outlined her matronly form.
“Can I help you, señor?
“Yes ma’am, I’m here to see Dr. Peterson. I phoned earlier.”
“Ah, sĂ­, I remember. The doctor came home a few minutes ago only. I do not think –”
“Who is it, Bianca?” a woman called from somewhere within. Her voice sounded familiar.
“It is a man who called before, señora.”
Dev heard high heels clicking on a tile floor. The housekeeper – he assumed that’s who she was – stepped aside. A tall woman walked out of the shadows and Dev stopped breathing. It was Mickie, his golden goddess! Instead of a sarong, she now wore a black cocktail dress that hugged her shapely figure then flared out below her hips, ending a few inches above her knees, showing off long, gorgeous legs. She looked sophisticated and every bit as beautiful as on the beach.
“You!” she blurted, halting a few feet away, light eyes wide with surprise. “Did you follow me?”
Dev released his breath. “No ma’am. I’m here to see Dr. Peterson.” He paused to clear his raspy throat. “I had no idea I’d find you here.”
She frowned. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Uh, no, but I need to speak to him, the doctor, I mean.”
Her lips quirked upward and she made a strangled sound, like suppressed laughter. “Oh, you do, do you?”
“Yeah, it’s urgent. Are you his wife?” He sure hoped not. “Can you give him a message for me?”
Her half-smile faded. “No, I am not his wife and I won’t take a message. If you really need to see the doctor, call the office on Monday and make an appointment.” She started to shut the door but Dev grabbed the edge of it and stopped her.
“I said this is urgent. It can’t wait ’til Monday.”
“Let go of the door!” she demanded, angry color flooding her cheeks.
“Un-uh. Is the doc here? Tell him I must speak to him. Now.”
She glared ice-cold daggers at him. “I am the doc!” she said through gritted teeth. “And I demand you let go of my door!”
Stunned, Dev nearly lost his hold. “You’re Dr. Michael Peterson?”
“No, you dunderhead! I’m Dr. Michaela Peterson. Now release this door and leave right now, or I will call the police.”
“Ah, hell!” Feeling like a damn fool, Dev sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I mean Dr. Peterson. I got the code wrong. I missed the ‘A’ at the end of your name.”
She stopped shoving at the door but continued to scowl at him. “Code? What code? What are you talking about?”
“The code Lara Spenser had me decipher. I’m here to deliver a message for her.”
The doc’s fine golden brows lifted. “I don’t know any Lara Spenser,” she said uncertainly.
Dev frowned, wondering if she was playacting because she didn’t trust him. Then it dawned on him that Spenser might be an alias Lara was using to conceal her true identity. “Maybe not, but you do know her uncle,” he replied. “Or you did. His name was Malcolm Flewellen.”
She sucked in her breath audibly. “Did you say was?”
“Yes ma’am. He was killed in a car accident several months ago.”
“Oh no!” Color drained from her face. Releasing the door, she staggered off balance and sagged against the entry wall.
“Hey, easy there!” Alarmed, Dev threw the door wide open, stepped inside and gripped her arms. “Don’t go fainting on me."


 Find Decoding Michaela on
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See all of Lyn Horner's books here:
http://www.amazon.com/Lyn-Horner/e/B004CY506Y

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Wednesday, June 10, 2015



Hi, everyone,
I hope you'll forgive me. I'm reposting an old post today due to limited internet access and my forgetful self. This article is still relevant, however, because every time a new book is thought about, we have to decide where to place the characters. My newest soon-to-be-released book and a blurb will follow at the end.

Finding a location in which to plop our characters has tremendous bearing on the story, but can be a bit of a dilemma for the author. Several elements come into play and must be considered. For instance what is the time period? Is the story a historical, contemporary, or futuristic? Is the story a time travel or paranormal?

I decided early on that all my stories would take place in my native state of Texas. This worked for me because first and foremost I'm comfortable writing about Texas and would need little additional research. Next, the state has any terrain I might need for any time period and with its multiple areas to choose from, each story can be unique unto itself.

When it came time to choose an area in which to base my Texas Code Series, the natural choice for me was right here in North Central Texas. The history of the Bennings and McTiernans started back in 1859 when Ian Benning and Dermot McTiernan came from Ireland with its political unrest to start their lives anew in Texas with the land grant amended in 1850. The Texas Emigration and Land Company offered 160 acres to single men, plus a free cabin, seed, and musket balls.



North Central Texas Land - Peters Colony




The two men received their land located north of Dallas in the originally named Peters Colony. Each generation will have a chance to tell their stories in and around the fictitious town of McTiernan, along with the ever changing landscape that will either be a blessing or a challenge all the way to present day when the first novel, CODE OF HONOR, takes place.

El Pasofar west Texas, a beautiful area of desert and Mountains, is the location of, Book Two, CODE OF CONSCIENCE. CODE OF JUSTICE, Book Three, is set in Dallas, back in North Central Texas, and Book Four, CODE OF LAW, may be in the lush land of The Hill Country.
 El Paso, Texas and the Franklin Mountains
                                                        Dallas, Texas, City Skyline

Two other areas of this great state range from the mountains of Big Bend, to the coast at Galveston. 
 Big Bend National Park

Galveston, Texas













My most recent stories, The Brides of Texas  Code Series, are also set in Texas. Book One, Katie and the Irish Texan and Book Two, Matelyn and the Texas Ranger are set in Dallas (1875) and Galveston (1877).





















Book Three, Angel and the Texan From County Cork, is set in Denison in North Central Texas close to the Texas Panhandle.


Blurb:
Jamey O'Donnell has reached a crossroads in his life. It's time to make his own way and stop living off the charity of others, specifically from his brother-in-law, Ian Benning. Off to find his new life, Jamey stops to help an old friend only to find out the friend has been killed. Can he help the widow restart her life and then walk away? Will he be able to ignore the newly awakened emotions she brings to the surface?



Angel Rivers buried her first husband on the trail after a short three month marriage. Now, one year later, her second husband, Will, has been shot and killed leaving her to fend for herself, to work a ranch with little to no knowledge. When the stranger shows up in her barn on the coldest day she's ever experienced, can she trust that he's her husband's friend and not a henchman sent by her neighbor? The same one she suspects of the killing? Will she embrace her bad luck in marriage and bury the feelings stirred by the stranger to live a life alone?


Anyway, you see what I mean about the choice of location. My stories could be located anywhere in our beautiful country. The details might change depending which area is chosen and that has the potential to redirect a storyline. My choice was logical for me and I hope resonates well with you the reader.
Thank you for visiting with Sweethearts of the West today. I hope you'll leave a comment to tell me your thoughts on this subject. Love hearing from you!

Thursday, March 26, 2015

GALVESTON'S GREAT HURRICANE OF 1900 AND QUEEN OF THE WAVES


Why I’ve had storms on my mind, I don’t know. I suppose I can blame Carra Copelin and her book MATELYN AND THE TEXAS RANGER, which includes a hurricane. In addition, I have another friend who works for the Sisters of Charity, and the two influences collided. (Yes, pun intended.)

At the end of the 19th century, the city of Galveston, Texas, was a booming town with a population of 36,000 residents. Its position on the natural harbor of Galveston Bay along the Gulf of Mexico made it the center of trade and the biggest city in the state of Texas. Before the Hurricane of 1900, Galveston was considered to be a beautiful and prestigious city and was known as the "Ellis Island of the West" and the "Wall Street of the Southwest".

As Galveston entered the new millennium, it was one of the wealthiest cities per capita in the United States and appeared to be poised for greatness.


Galveston in the 1890s


And then one weekend in September in 1900, the same proximity to the sea that had made the community grow and prosper as a port city, changed Galveston Island forever. On Sept. 8, Galveston became the victim of a powerful hurricane of such destructive force that whole blocks of homes were completely swept away.

WORST NATURAL DISASTER IN NATION’S HISTORY

Striking Galveston on Sept. 8, 1900, the Great Storm is considered the worst natural disaster in the nation's history. In Galveston on the rain-darkened and gusty morning of Saturday, September 8, 1900, newspaper readers saw, on page three of the local Galveston Daily News, an early-morning account of a tropical hurricane prowling the Gulf of Mexico. 

On the previous day Galveston had been placed under a storm warning by the central office of the Weather Bureau (now the National Weather Service) in Washington, D.C. A one-column headline announced, "Storm in the Gulf." Under that, a small subhead proclaimed, "Great Damage Reported on Mississippi and Louisiana Coasts-Wires Down-Details Meagre." The story, only one paragraph long, had been sent out of New Orleans at 12:45 A.M. that same day, but it added nothing to the information presented in the headlines. Additional details were unavailable "owing to the prostration of the wires."

Beginning early on the morning of September 8, the winds began coming in strongly from the north. Despite the opposing winds, the tides of the southern gulf waters also rose, sending large crashing waves upon the beach front. During the afternoon the winds and rain continued to increase. The tides of the gulf rose higher and higher with fierce waves crashing on the beach, sending flood waters into the residential areas.

More than 6,000 (some estimates say as many as 8,000 to 12,000) men, women and children lost their lives. Among the dead were 10 sisters and 90 children from the St. Mary's Orphans Asylum, operated by the Sisters of Charity. The sisters also operated St. Mary's Infirmary in Galveston. It was the first Catholic hospital in the state, established in 1867.

SISTERS OF CHARITY AND ST. MARY’S ORPHANS ASYLUM

The sisters were called to Galveston by Catholic Bishop Claude M. Dubuis in 1866 to care for the many sick and infirm in what was the major port of entry for Texas. They were also charged with caring for orphaned children, most of whom had lost parents during yellow fever epidemics prevalent in coastal areas of the time.

At first the Sisters of Charity opened an orphanage within the hospital, but later moved it three miles to the west on beach-front property on the former estate of Captain Farnifalia Green at what is now 69th and Seawall Boulevard. The location seemed ideal as it was far from town and the threat of yellow fever.

St. Mary's Orphans Asylum
Sister Elizabeth Ryan, one of 10 sisters at St. Mary's Orphanage, had come into town that morning to collect food. Despite pleas from Mother Gabriel, the assistant superior at St. Mary's Infirmary, for her to stay at the hospital until the storm passed, Sister Elizabeth said she had to return to the orphanage. Sister Elizabeth had the provisions in the wagon and said if she did not return, the children would have no supper.

Warning: Get your hankies ready now.

St. Mary's Orphans Asylum circa 1899
St. Mary's Orphanage consisted of two large two-story dormitories just off the beach behind a row of tall sand dunes that were supported by salt cedar trees. The buildings had balconies facing the gulf. According to one of the boys at the orphanage, the rising tides began eroding the sand dunes "as though they were made of flour." Soon the waters of the gulf reached the dormitories.

The Sisters at the orphanage brought all of the children into the girls' dormitory because it was the newer and stronger of the two. In the first floor chapel, they tried to calm the children by having them sing the old French hymn "Queen of the Waves." The waters continued to rise.

Sister Vincent Cottier and two children
Taking the children to the second story of the dormitory, the Sisters had Henry Esquior, a worker, collect clothesline rope. Again they had the boys and girls sing "Queen of the Waves." One of the boys later said that the children were very frightened and the Sisters were very brave.

By 6 p.m. the wind was gusting past 100 miles per hour and the waters of the gulf and bay had met, completely flooding the city. Residents climbed to the second stories, attics and even roofs of their homes. Flying debris struck many who dared venture outside their homes.

Around 7:30 p.m. the main tidal surge struck the south shore. Houses along the beach front were lifted from their foundations and sent like battering rams into other houses. Houses fell upon houses.

Four-block area of town after storm
At St. Mary's Infirmary the flood waters filled the first floor. From the second story balcony, the sisters pulled refugees in as they floated by and brought them into the over-crowded hospital. Almost every window in the facility was broken out, sending the wind and rain whipping through the building.

At the orphanage, the children and sisters heard the crash of the boys’ dormitory as it collapsed and was carried away by the flood waters. The sisters cut the clothesline rope into sections and used it to tie the children to the cinctures which they wore around their waists. Each Sister tied to herself between six to eight children. Some of the older children climbed onto the roof of the orphanage.

One of the sisters with children nearby
Eventually the dormitory building that had been the sanctuary for the children and sisters was lifted from its foundation. The bottom fell out and the roof came crashing down, trapping those inside.

Only three boys from the orphanage survived: William Murney, Frank Madera and Albert Campbell. Miraculously all three ended up together in a tree in the water. After floating for more than a day, they were eventually able to make their way into town where they told the sisters what had happened at the orphanage.

One of the boys remembered a sister tightly holding two small children in her arms, promising not to let go. The sisters were buried wherever they were found, with the children still attached to them. Two of the sisters were found together across the bay on the Mainland. One of them was tightly holding two small children in her arms. Even in death she had kept her promise not to let go.

Storm's damage downtown
Each year on September 8th, the members of the Congregation of the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word sing "Queen of the Waves." The song provides the sisters and all those who co-minister with them an opportunity to pause and remember all who lost their lives in a devastating hurricane almost a century ago.

DEATH AND DESTRUCTION

The death and destruction in Galveston was unbelievable. Thousands were dead and their bodies were littered throughout the city. It would be months before some would be uncovered. A complete list of the dead was never made. Stench from the corpses was detectable for miles. The bodies were piled on barges and towed out for burial at sea, but most washed back up on shores. Funeral pyres were started and burned for days.

Estimates are that the winds reached 150 mph or maybe even 200. The tidal surge has been estimated at from 15 to 20 feet. Whole blocks of homes had been completely destroyed, leaving little more than a brick or two. In all more than 3,600 homes had been destroyed.



Only beach house for miles
A great wall of debris wrapped itself around St. Mary's Infirmary on the eastern end of the city and then zigzagged through the city to the beach. At places the wall was two stories tall. Inside this great wall were destroyed houses, pieces of furniture, pots, pans, cats, dogs and people.

At St. Mary's Infirmary, there was no food or water. While the main hospital building was still standing, the adjacent structures, had been destroyed. The hospital was packed with those who were injured and those who had nowhere else to go.

Two of the Sisters walked about the area until they found crackers and cookies that had been soaked in the water. They brought them back to the hospital. Over a fire they built in the street, they dried the food and served it to those in need at the infirmary.
One year later, the Sisters opened a new orphanage.

Searching debris
On Sept. 8, 1994, a Texas Historical Marker was placed at 69th Street and Seawall Boulevard, marking the site of the former orphanage. The descendants of two of the survivors, Will Murny and Frank Madera, returned to participate in the marker dedication. As part of the ceremony, "Queen of the Waves" was again sung at the same time and place as it was during the Great 1900 Storm. And, as it continues to be each Sept. 8 by the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word.

ENGINEERING MARVEL

To prevent future storms from causing destruction like that of the 1900 hurricane, many improvements to the island were made. The first 3 miles of the Galveston Seawall, 17-foot high, were built beginning in 1902 under the direction of Henry Martyn Robert. An all-weather bridge was constructed to the mainland to replace the ones destroyed in the storm.

The most dramatic effort to protect the city was its raising. Dredged sand was used to raise the city of Galveston by as much as 17 feet above its previous elevation. Over 2,100 buildings were raised in the process, including the 3,000-ton St. Patrick's Church. The seawall and raising of the island were jointly named a National Historical Civil Engineering Landmark by the American Society of Civil Engineers in 2001.

In 1915, a storm similar in strength and track to the 1900 hurricane struck Galveston. The 1915 storm brought a 12-ft storm surge which tested the new seawall. Although 53 people on Galveston Island lost their lives in the 1915 storm, this was a great reduction from the thousands who died in 1900.

If this works, this is a recording of "Queen of the Waves"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzbiq-S8ZDE

Sources: 
Wikipedia
https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/ydg02
http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/galveston.htm
http://www.1900storm.com/orphanage.html (Linda Macdonald, Director of Communications, Congregation of the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word in Houston)