Robin Schuricht and Jennifer Rounds blend their knowledge of history and their skill as seamstresses to create the 19th century clothing worn by those who volunteer and work in the Ohio Village. Last Saturday, I joined them for the first workshop in the series, an all-day program to learn more about what’s behind the perfect 1860s look.

Before Jennifer and Robin began discussing the history of Civil War-era clothing, Robin told us that we needed to check our modern sensibilities about the comfort, practicality and style of our clothes. So we deposited our modern-day ideas, such as that clothes have to match, in a basket and passed it to our neighbor.

After sharing why we wanted “the look,” we talked about what “look” we wanted to achieve. Would we be portraying a high-fashion lady who would be presiding at soirees, or an ordinary housewife who needed practical clothes for chores?

We discussed that achieving an ensemble of “period-correct” attire, or clothing that would have been found at a specific time or location, is the goal of the dedicated re-enactor. While it’s important to make or buy a reproduction costume in which you feel comfortable, it’s even more critical to make every attempt to be period-perfect. If you’re going to the trouble to create this look, you might as well go all-out to achieve it.

To help us build our own period wardrobe, Robin provided instructions on making an authentic item of clothing that was typical of the time. We studied cartes de visite and examined original Civil War-era garments from the Ohio Historical Society’s Education Collection to see how women of the 1860s dressed.

During that time, women were concerned about maintaining the proper shape, not looking slender, Robin said. What’s more, they dressed for their age. Younger, single ladies were more fashion-forward than their married friends, so they were more inclined to wear trendy items. For example, Garibaldi jackets were a fashionable choice for unmarried women. Made popular by Empress Eugénie of France, they featured black embroidery or braid and military details.

As we studied Civil War-era dresses, we looked at how the V-shaped bodice emphasized the wearer’s narrow waist. We saw how the bodice closed down the front with hooks and eyes. We noticed how the armseye (armhole) sat off the shoulder, with some seams almost horizontal at the armpits. We learned about the pagoda sleeve, a wide, bell-shaped sleeve that was popular at the time and was worn over a false undersleeve, a separate sleeve that extended beyond the pagoda sleeve to keep the dress sleeve from getting dirty. We discovered “kickplates” and “elevators,” ingenious ways to keep skirts above the mud and protected from dirt. We learned that dress linings and piecings don’t have to match, and that the bottom of a hoop skirt should be six inches from the bottom of a dress.

When the discussion turned to undergarments, I discovered that I hadn’t put my modern sensibilities about underwear in the basket. I hadn’t given enough thought to what those lovely dresses were hiding. In fact, the next time I see a re-enactor in hot weather, I’ll have a whole new appreciation for how hot she must be. A chemise and drawers – preferably made of linen rather than cotton, to prevent clinging — provided the first layer. Next came the corset. Complete with stays, a busk that fastened with hooks and eyes, and tied together with laces of ample length, the corset did amazing things, even to the teenaged girl in attendance who modeled one for us over her 21st century camisole and jeans. A chemisette covered the corset, especially when wearing sheer dresses, while several petticoats provided the structure for a dress’s full skirt. If wearing a hoop, two petticoats were worn both under and over the hoop to provide a smoother look and feel. A corded petticoat was best suited for working, offering similar, but much more manageable, structural advantages. 

Slippers or low-heeled leather traveling boots with square toes were worn with black or white over-the-knee socks that were held in place with ties. Paisley or fringed wool shawls, capes, aprons with double casings and detachable white collars completed the look. Short kid gloves, generously sized handkerchiefs, fans, reticules, baskets, brooches, pocket watches and ear fobs were other popular accessories.

Hats were either worn outside or during short visits inside, such as at church or during short social calls in homes. Fancier versions included spoon bonnets, leghorn hats, plumed jockey caps, and glengarries. Shaker bonnets and slat bonnets with neck coverings were work-appropriate headcoverings.

Ladies of the 1860s wore their hair parted in the middle, then bundled at the back. So how do modern-day re-enactors with short hair achieve the styled, controlled, and long hairstyles of the 1860s? Don’t wash your hair, part it in the middle and slick back your bangs with a generous amount of pomade, Robin said. Then, put two combs on the sides and two in the back, place a hairpiece in a net and bundle it in the back, and cover it all up with a bonnet. If you’re working outside, you can also hide short hair under a cap that covers most of your ears.

If you’re a re-enactor who depends on eyeglasses to see, choose octagon-shaped wire frames, but if you can manage it, put your spectacles in your basket. That’s also a good place for cell phones, car keys, and cameras; these modern conveniences can really ruin the 1860s look. As for makeup, it should look very natural; leave the nail polish at home.

To conclude our day, we looked at several lovely examples of period-correct fabrics, such as linsey-woolseys, silks, and pattern-on-pattern cottons. We also paged through several books that are good sources for the 1860s look, such as Godey’s Lady’s Book, a widely circulated magazine during the period. Other books Robin recommends include Who Wore What?: Women’s Wear, 1861-1865, by Juanita Leisch; American Victorian Costume in Early Photographs, by Priscilla Harris Dalrymple; In Style: Celebrating Fifty Years of the Costume Institute, by Jean L. Druesedow; and With Grace & Favour: Victorian & Edwardian Fashion in America, by Otto Charles Thieme. To start sewing bonnets, dresses and underpinnings, check Saundra Ros Altman’s Past Patterns, as well as other patterns available from McCall’s and Simplicity.

Jennifer and Robin will be offering five more sessions on recreating 1860s fashion. On March 17, participants can learn the basics of making an apron. A two-part series on April 21 and May 19 will teach all the steps and techniques needed to make a simple 1860s dress. A simple man’s work shirt will be the focus on the June 16 program. The series concludes on August 18, with the basics of making and decorating bonnets and recreating hairstyles of the 1860s. Participants can register for one or all of the sessions. The Ohio History Center provides pattern recommendations, the work space, power outlets and experience; you bring your fabric, thread, notions and sewing machine. To register or to learn more, call 800-686-1541 or 614-297-2663.

Two Saturdays ago, I arrived at the Ohio History Center to volunteer in the Archives/Library. After a long week, I was ready to focus on something different. I was also a little sad of heart, discouraged by how difficult it is to develop and sustain friendships in this age of instant communication. I was ready to read some old-fashioned letters, composed with care, where feelings and facts alike were expressed in thoughtful ways.

As soon as I opened the first folder of the collection John had chosen for me to work on, and I read the first sentence of the document inside, I knew that the next few hours would cheer me up and restore my spirit. So, for Valentine’s Day, here are some excerpts from the letters that tell the story of this Ohio couple’s courtship and first year of marriage.

“Considering the nature of your call the other day, I can but regret that our interview could not have been longer, as it was so unexpected to me (you having never before made known your desire) and the brevity of the visit taken into consideration, omitted to ask some questions which judgment prompts me to do so now, although I would have preferred asking you had I thought of them then as it is quite embarrassing to me to write first to a gentleman. I hope you will not consider them impertinent questions for I assure you I respect you as a friend and would not wish to do you or myself injustice by asking improper ones; should they be satisfactorily answered I would be better prepared to respond to your proposal.”

So begins the letter Mary Jane Pond wrote to Carlos Forbes on April 22, 1861. Eager to see how this story developed, I could hardly put down the 245 letters between Carlos and his future wife, Mary, which comprise MSS 1491.

Responding to Mary on May 2, 1861, Carlos said, “My intentions are to provide a home….I should wish my wife (if it is for me to possess such a treasure) to enjoy the privilege of performing the same kind office of familial affection and duty….I cannot give you so good a home as you will have to leave; I have asked you to give me yourself, and in return for your home pleasures, for your free life of happiness, I propose to give you – a welcome to life’s sorrows, a welcome to the toiler’s lot, to a life of cares, of trials, perhaps of hardships, of privations, and mayhap now and then a cruel heartache.” He concluded his letter, “May I always be worthy of your friendship.”

Carlos Forbes was born on February 15, 1837 in Parma, Ohio. Mary Jane Pond was born on November 5, 1837. Carlos wrote first from Parma, then from Oberlin and Sandusky; Mary Jane corresponded first from Fairfield, and later from Olena and Hartland, Ohio.  The couple’s letters document their daily activities and the time in which they lived, their thoughts about marriage, and their feelings about each other.

As I read, I congratulated Mary for the good head she had on her shoulders, and I cheered when I read the answers Carlos gave her.

Writing to Carlos on September 17, 1861, Mary shared that she “would never wed a man that was a slave to tobacco.” In his letter dated September 30, 1861, Carlos responded, “You do not know how much I regret that you should ever have the occasion to speak of the use of tobacco as you did, or rather that I should have allowed the habit of using it to have got so strong a hold on me. I have always had to acknowledge it as a bad practice, but for all that, I kept using it until I had become, well, a confirmed tobacco chewer to make the best of it. Well, I was not going to tell you yet, but as you have said what you have and perhaps will want to know how the ‘coat fits’ I will say that since the Monday that I saw you last, I have not tasted tobacco in any form, and now that my system has recovered from the need or want of it I know of no reason why I should ever take up the use of tobacco again. I thank you, I thank you.”  Anyone who’s ever hoped that their beau would give up a vexing habit can appreciate the effect these words would have had.

As an only daughter who enjoyed the company of her parents, Mary was not convinced that signing up for a life with Carlos would be a prudent decision.  “It seems like asking a good deal for a pledge from a lady of this kind when she has a good home and surrounded by kind friends until she knows whether she is to share in another comfortable home,” Mary wrote on September 17, 1861. “Remember a lady has to make many more sacrifices in every sense in settling for a life than a gentleman.”

Reading what Mary had to say on September 30, 1861 — “I suppose you think that I am an “odd sheep” and I fully agree with you in the belief” — I knew why I liked Mary so well. Again, on November 19, 1861, she wrote, “I imagine I hear you say, “What a queer girl” and I suppose I am differently constituted from other folks.” Carlos won me over when I read his reply on November 24, 1861. “Truly, I have sometimes thought that you were somewhat differently dispositioned from others that I have known. Mary, you do not bear in mind that perhaps this is the very reason why I have sought to gain your love.”

Carlos added to his appeal when he wrote Mary on February 26, 1862, “Shall I tell you that I received a Valentine not long ago, and you must not smile too loud when I tell you that it was the first one that I ever received and that I never sent one away in my life.”

Even though these letters were written long ago, they offer instructive lessons to follow today. Reading the advice Carlos gave Mary on March 29, 1862, I felt like he could have been talking to me.

“Asking you to receive what I may say in the same spirit of kindness in which it is written, and from one whose earnest desire is to be worthy of your confidence. You are unhappy! You allow your mind to become intoxicated as it were with though or in other words you think, but you think to no purpose, and thus you become perplexed. Now, you must allow no more of this sort of thinking. When you find that your mind is busy with any subject merely as an abstract subject, you must instantly banish all thought. Then calmly place your mind on something different and you will soon overcome the habit of immoderate thinking which has given you so much trouble. You can never realize the wonderful power which you possess over your own mind, until you have occasion, and do test it in this very way.”

Poor Carlos got some bad news when Mary wrote the following to him on April 13, 1862.  “I have received and read letters from you with commingled feelings of grief and pleasure….I feel that I must perform the painful duty of saying that I think there is but little use in deferring longer. It is hard for me to write thus. I hope our correspondence and interviews have not been without profit to both of us. I shall ever think of you as a friend while memory is true to her mission, and ask that I may be cherished as such by you. I shall, however, expect to hear from you again and will now bid you farewell.”

However, he handled it like a true gentleman. Responding to her on April 23, 1862, he wrote, “Mary, can you spare me a few moments in writing to me sometimes? I hope you will. I shall ever be glad to hear of your prosperity and happiness. May God bless you and help me!”

Thankfully, the “true and faithful friends” continued to write to each other. Their correspondence seemed to have strengthened their friendship. On April 20, 1862, Carlos wrote to Mary, “I have only to thank you a thousand times for the kindness and regard you have shown me in our intercourse thus far and I ask you to ever remember me as your friend and I will try to deserve the name.”

Their letters continued during Carlos’s Civil War service; he enlisted as a private in the 72nd Regiment of the Ohio Infantry, Company A, on October 24, 1862 and was mustered out on July 30, 1863 at Vicksburg, Mississippi. Writing Mary on August 1, 1863, he said, “In our wonderful preservation from death on the field, I recognize the hand of a ‘Savior caring for us’ and I hope never to be ashamed to own and worship Him.”

Suffering from poor health after his wartime service, Carlos was first employed on the Sandusky, Dayton and Cincinnati Railroad, working on the Wood Train, or the construction train of the road. As part of a crew of 31 men, he kept the different wood houses full along the entire route, to transport building material along the line, and, in case of accident to either mail or freight trains, to help them perform their regular trips and prevent the delay of mail or express matter. His part of the work was to take care of the sleeping car and to see that whatever was necessary for the comfort of his colleagues was obtained. “My place suits my condition of health exactly but I do not like my surroundings. I am not in a pleasant society and often I am almost obliged to start for home,” Carlos confessed to Mary on April 10, 1865.

Carlos also participated in an historical event, and shared the experience with Mary through a letter. Writing her on May 4, 1865, Carlos provided a detailed description of the funeral demonstration for Abraham Lincoln in Columbus. He was part of the procession which marched, four abreast, from the Depot to the Statehouse. “It was not until nearly eleven that I could get into the Capitol to view the corpse,” he wrote. “His face was a good deal discolored, but the features and expression was perfect — the sweetest and the saddest expression I ever beheld. I shall never forget that face – may its memory inspire the many thousands who have lately witnessed it to deeds of honor and acts of virtue, in imitation of him whom ‘our nation mourns’ as a Father slain, a Preserver torn from our embrace by the hand of violence.”

Carlos’s letters make it obvious that he was trying to deserve the friendship that Mary extended to him. When he found that he was unable to visit her because of his responsibilities to his employer, he wrote on May 18, 1865 “to explain the circumstances which compel me to disappoint you” and to express how disappointed he is after anticipating “such a pleasant visit at home with parents, brothers, sisters and you and other friends.” Three days later, he wrote to apologize again, saying, “I am sorry to have disappointed you so, but it was unavoidable and I hope you will accept my previous explanation as a sufficient apology for my conduct.”

On May 24, 1865, Mary thoughtfully responded, “Certainly I accept your explanation in regard to the contemplated visit which you are necessarily detained from making at present. Of course I was disappointed but perhaps no more so than others…. To be sure the future is uncertain yet as circumstances have shaped I deem it best to defer my visit & trust the future.” Carlos responded on June 10, 1865, “I thank you for the consideration shown me in this matter and if you can make it just as convenient to make your visit so much later in the season, I shall be very glad that the necessity of changing the program occurred as it did.”

That visit did take place, and the correspondence that follows resumes an earlier theme. On August 9, 1865, Carlos wrote to Mary, “We don’t feel satisfied with your visit here at all and are in hopes that you can make it convenient to come again next week. I will call for you at any place you can appoint. I must see you again. Dear Mary, if there is any change in your feelings, in my favor, oh, be generous enough to tell me so!”

Responding that she needed “direction from on high to guide me aright,” Mary wrote on August 26, 1865 that “the future has presented rather a gloomy picture to gaze upon….You have been brought very near the grave and your constitution undoubtedly impaired for life, which I fear will unfit you for securing and providing a good home, that is unless you obtain a situation that will be light employment and yet a paying one.” Although she was concerned about having to leave her parents, she concluded that “if it is the will of God that such a union take place, He is able to prosper you henceforth, both as to health and in temporal things” in a letter dated September 10, 1865. Carlos responded on October 6, 1865, “If indeed God favors our union, I do hope that it may be as soon as February or March.”

But it wasn’t that soon. In April 1866, Carlos wrote, “Many miles of distance intervenes to separate us, and our circumstances are such that we may not hope to enjoy each other’s society very often, but since you have bid me ‘hope’ I shall no longer repine at my lot but trust in an overruling and favoring providence that ere many months we may have acquired a competency and position sufficient to justify us in our future union….Dear Girl, I am so glad that I have been able to win the affections of one so noble and so lovely as your own dear self.”

The couple postponed their wedding until Carlos’s health and financial prospects improved. Deciding to forgo new outfits and a party, they anticipated setting a day “as early as seems expedient.” “Just think of it — our correspondence seems to be nearly to a close; aren’t you sorry? I am. Well, let’s enjoy it fast and often while it lasts!,” Mary wrote on February 24, 1867.

Carlos and Mary Jane were married on April 2, 1867. After their marriage, Carlos and Mary were separated while he performed joiner work on a church in Cleveland. “I would like to see you of course but it appears to be our fortune to be separated a good deal and maybe it is for the best. Hope it as such as is our lot,” Mary Jane wrote on September 23, 1867.

The couple’s letters of this period provides insight into what must have been a trying time for the newlyweds. On October 13, 1867, Mary wrote, “It will be five weeks Tues. next since you left here, and you remarked then ‘that you should be out again in a week or two.’ I did not expect you would, but I begin to feel as though I am placed in a trying situation and need all the sympathy and encouragement that I am entitled to feel in a husband. If you are not able to come, of course I do not ask it, but if you are unable to work, and do feel able to take the journey, why not spend some of the weeks with your wife, who has the best claim to your attention? I cannot help feeling rather gloomy when I think of your decline in health, and my own prospects and of our limited means.”

The collection also includes a poem that Mary wrote Carlos on their first anniversary, dated April 2, 1868. It includes the following lines: “…And we hail with our anniversary day/A ten weeks old baby, a bright little lad/To cheer up the heart when o’erburdened and sad/The ‘pet’ of his father, his own ‘darling boy’/The pride of his mother, her hope and her joy.”

The couple had three children: Edwin Carlos (“Eddie”) (January 18, 1868-November 12, 1941), Benjamin Platt (March 13, 1873-April 21, 1976) and Emeline Asenath (April 19, 1876-August 10, 1936).

Carlos supported his family by working as a farmer and a carpenter. He died on January 6, 1915; Mary Jane died August 30, 1924. Both are buried in North Royalton, Ohio.

Carlos and Mary Jane’s great-granddaughter, Anne Bartlett Hines, donated the letters to the Ohio Historical Society. If you’re interested in reading them, visit the Ohio History Center’s Archives/Library and request the finding aid that fellow volunteer Jim Edge and I prepared for MSS 1491. Unfortunately, the collection does not include any photographs of Carlos and Mary Jane. How I’d like to see them dressed for their wedding, with Carlos in his black suit and Mary Jane in her merino wedding dress with slate-colored gloves and silk bonnet.

Tina fosters, and shares, my fondness for tea, so it was my pleasure to treat my aunt today to something we’ve both wanted to experience — one of the Kelton House’s Victorian Teas.

Throughout the year, the Kelton House offers Victorian teas in the best 19th century tradition.  First, you enjoy Earl Grey tea and a generous sampling of savories and sweets; then, you listen to a short educational program that reflects the season, an object from the Kelton House’s collection, or a topic of historical interest.  As Museum Director Georgeanne Reuter remarked to us, the teas offer Kelton House guests the opportunity to socialize, to enjoy delicious food, and to learn new things.

For today’s Valentine Tea, we joined an almost-full house of ladies for a buffet of Crab Rangoon Canapes, Sweet Currant & Cranberry Tea Sandwiches, Baked Chicken Salad Crescent Rolls, Artichoke & Potato Frittata Bites, Pea Blini with Golden Caviar & Creme Fraiche, Blood Orange Sugared Scones, Chocolate Raspberry Creams, White Chocolate & Cherry Hearts, Sparkling Champagne Cake Truffles, Brownie & Raspberry Buttercream Hearts, and Red Velvet & Strawberry Trifle.  Then, several lucky raffle winners took home lovely treats from the Kelton House’s gift shop, such as a teapot, a handmade apron, a tulip-decorated tray, napkins, candles and a Kelton House ornament.

Today’s educational program featured the history of the Ohio Statehouse.  Gregg Dodd, Deputy Director for Communications, Marketing and Events for the Capitol Square Review and Advisory Board, showed a video he created for the Statehouse’s Sesquicentennial that was filled with wonderful historic photographs.  After enthusiastically imparting his knowledge of many interesting facts about the building’s history, “The Butler of the Statehouse” turned the program over to his colleague, Mike Rupert.  The communications specialist was dressed as a Civil War Union Army surgeon from the 1st Ohio Light Artillery Battery A, the Statehouse’s own group of Civil War re-enactors.  Mike described how ladies convened at the Statehouse to roll bandages, sew shirts, and send canned food for soldiers during the Civil War.  As he showed a surgical saw that would have been used for amputations during the Civil War, he talked about “sanitary” practices involving a tongue depressor, “laudable pus,” and “blue mass,” a  pill containing mercury and licorice that was commonly used during the day.  In fact, Abraham Lincoln took blue mass to improve his mental state.

For more information on the Kelton House’s Victorian teas, click here.  If you can’t wait until the St. Patrick’s Day Tea on March 14 (I’ll be there), visit the Kelton House this Sunday, February 12, at 3:00 p.m. for “Kids, Courage & the Civil War.” This child-friendly theatrical presentation by the Imaginating Dramatics Company is based on Civil War diaries and dramatizes the effect of war on children.

For me, Lazarus meant going to the Colonial Room and the Chintz Room, where five menu items became some of my most favorite dishes. I still hanker for Lazarus’s celery dressing, broccoli and mushroom chowder, chicken salad, “Mexican beef” sandwiches on toasted cheese bread, and vanilla ice cream balls rolled in pecans and covered in hot fudge.

Lazarus was also home to the decorated Christmas windows my family went to see every year (these pictures show Uncle Steve, my cousin Mary, and me looking at them on Thanksgiving in 1977). I steered clear of the Talking Tree on the sixth floor, but I loved shopping in the Liberty of London department on the Front Street Level. Thirty years later, I still have most of the special English imports that I bought there. Lazarus was also the place where I went to buy the Bonne Bell Lip Smackers that my third-grade classmates and I wore around our necks (I chose “Sugar Plum”) and Lancome’s “Helsinki Pink” nail polish, my first real cosmetics purchase.

Last night, David and Beverly Meyers and their daughter, Elise Meyers Walker, came to the Grandview Heights Public Library to share details about the history of Lazarus that they uncovered while writing their recently published book, Look to Lazarus: The Big Store.

Mr. Meyers began with an interesting description of the development of the ready-to-wear garment industry. It started in 1800, when Napoleon needed uniforms for his army and found women willing to sew them. Next, he described “slop shops,” where sailors bought clothes when they came into port. Although the garments were made out of “shoddy cloth,” were of poor quality, and didn’t fit well, merchants didn’t care because they didn’t expect these customers to return. In fact, Elise added, Charles Dickens had his character, David Copperfield, visit a slop shop. By the 1830s, the ready-to-wear industry took a revolutionary turn, when a Rochester, New York merchant created his own menswear patterns, made to sizes that he established. The arrival of Singer sewing machines in the 1840s helped the industry grow, but the Civil War made it flourish. The United States government published soldiers’ measurements, so manufacturers had access to them. This gave the garment industry something to work from in creating standardized sizes for men.

Setting the scene with this helpful background, Mr. Meyers shared how Rabbi Simon Lazarus and his wife, Amelia, arrived in Columbus with $3,000. Lazarus invested in his half-brother’s store, later taking it over when he moved on to other pursuits. In 1851, Lazarus established the store that would become such an important part of Columbus history.

After the Civil War, Lazarus had a spectacular brainstorm. Soldiers returning to civilian life were eager to buy new clothes, so he drove a wagon to Rochester and brought home 200 suits to sell in his store. These ex-servicemen came into the store, bought a new suit, left their old uniform at the store, and walked out wearing their new clothes.

Alas, Simon was a good man, but he was no merchant. Other than his brainstorm, he didn’t do much to advance the store. When Fred and Ralph Lazarus took over the family business — still a men’s store — they added a department that featured shoes for the entire family. Fred Lazarus, Jr. introduced a number of things that contributed to the store’s development. In 1891, the Niagara Soda Fountain allowed customers to take a break from shopping and enjoy refreshments. 1895 saw the construction of a power plant to provide electricity for the store. The accounts receivable concept was introduced at Lazarus in 1904. In 1905, Jessie Ross became the first woman to work at Lazarus. Starting as a switchboard operator, she later became an officer in the company.

In 1909, Lazarus built a six-story building at Town and High Streets. Although there was only enough merchandise to fill the first three floors, the store had room for growth. The construction of this new building signaled that Lazarus wanted to be competitive in everything. The modern era of retailing had arrived in Columbus.

Lazarus initiated other noteworthy developments. Mirrors were set up so that store management could monitor salespeople and ensure that they were delivering good customer service. A former Harvey Girl managed the Lazarus tea room. An escalator arrived at Lazarus in 1913, but customers were too scared to ride it at first.

The Lazarus family believed that a department store should be like a big circus, with 50 to 100 special events going on in the store each day. Therefore, going to Lazarus was an event, and shoppers could participate in the excitement. Entertainers performed throughout the store. Puppet shows and a resident alligator in the basement kept children amused while their mothers shopped. A Peruvian art exhibit educated customers. A Lazarus associate even modeled Miss America’s robe for shoppers to see. During the Christmas season, Lazarus enticed shoppers with memorable window decorations, a train display on the sixth floor, the collectible Lazzie Bear and Lazzie Dog, the Talking Tree, and, of course, Santa. In fact, Santa arrived toward the end of last night’s program, dressed in an original Lazarus Santa suit.

In 1929, Fred Lazarus, Jr. and other retailers like Boston’s William Filene, the Bloomingdale brothers of New York City, and Abraham and Strauss in Brooklyn pooled their resources so they could purchase goods at a greater discount and offset the country’s troubled economy. That led to the creation of Federated Department Stores.

Celebrating its centennial in 1951, Lazarus started the “Look to Lazarus” television show and created dioramas that illustrated famous incidents in the history of Columbus and Ohio.

Throughout its history, Lazarus provided for its associates, helping to improve their quality of life and building the sense of family for which the store was so well-known, Mr. Meyers said. For example, the Lazarus bowling league was established in 1902. In the 1940s, Lazarus established an in-house clinic for its associates, opened a cafeteria that served nutritious food at reasonable prices, and even designated a room where associates could take a nap during breaks. Red “apples” to wear on name badges were awarded to employees who received positive comments from customers about their customer service.

During the program at the library, several people in the audience shared personal stories about Lazarus. One lady shared that her father had designed the lights that cascaded from the Lazarus water tower to form a Christmas tree. Another woman talked about how she liked to visit Lazarus at Eastertime to see the new spring fashion colors and admire the cages of canaries throughout the store. A man who was a Lazarus buyer shared a story about how a 3,000-pound wheel of Wisconsin cheese fulfilled the Lazarus wish to create excitement among shoppers. Another Lazarus associate shared how she had to learn to play the piano and the organ in order to sell those instruments in the store.

Although Lazarus’ main store closed on August 14, 2004, its building was saved and renovated. As part of its revitalization, a team of local business leaders, developers, contractors and architects incorporated many sustainable enhancements into the building’s renovation, such as energy and water efficiency, improvements in indoor environmental quality, and the use of sustainable, recycled and reused materials. Today, the Lazarus building not only is recognized as an outstanding example of energy-efficient and environmentally sensitive design, but also houses over 2,500 employees.

As he concluded the program, Mr. Meyers observed that Lazarus was the store that everyone else admired because it controlled the Columbus market in such a memorable way.

Look to Lazarus: The Big Store is the Meyers team’s fourth book. Other titles they’ve written include Columbus: The Musical Crossroads; Central Ohio’s Historic Prisons; and Historic Columbus Crimes: Mama’s in the Furnace, The Thing & More. Their next book will cover historic jazz in Ohio.

Marla Williams, the Fraternity’s director of education and training, gave me a wonderful tour of the three rooms on the main floor that constitute The Heritage Museum.

The house was built from 1852 to 1854 by Philip Snowden, a dry goods merchant, and his wife, Abigail, a milliner. The Snowdens paid $9,500 for the house. Unfortunately, bankruptcy led them to sell it in 1860 at a sheriff’s sale to satisfy the collection of back taxes, and David Tod became the new owner. When Tod served as Ohio Governor from 1862 to 1864, the home was the official gubernatorial residence. U.S. Senator Andrew Johnson from Tennessee (who later became Vice President and President after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln) was a guest at the home during this period.

From 1865 until 1922, railroad executive David S. Gray, his wife, Eugenia Doolittle Gray, and their family occupied the house. Damage from an 1872 fire led the house to be rebuilt by George Bellows, Sr., a prominent Columbus architect of the day. After Gray’s death, his heirs sold the property to the Columbus Women’s Club. Remodeling undertaken by the theatrical organization included an addition that connected the former stable at the rear of the property to the back of the former residence. This new space became the second largest auditorium in Columbus at the time.

By 1941, financial difficulties led the group to sell its clubhouse, and the beautiful mansion eventually became a run-down rooming house. At the suggestion of its executive secretary, a Columbus resident, Kappa Kappa Gamma purchased the property in 1951 — for $1.00 — with the intent of it becoming the fraternity’s international headquarters. Two years of renovation followed. In 1975, the building was listed on the National Register of Historic Places as the Snowden-Gray Mansion. The original downstairs rooms were returned to their 19th century style in 1981.

Period furnishings and decorative objects depict daily life and culture in the Victorian culture, with an emphasis on the lives and roles of women in the home. Fashionable and prized possessions on display in the Grand Parlor include an 1887 Weber piano that visitors are invited to play; a tussie-mussie, or bouquet of flowers that had symbolic meanings to Victorians; and a golden key badge, dating from 1870, which initiated Kappa Kappa Gamma members wear as an emblem of membership.

The pier mirror in the Grand Parlor is the only object that is original to the home. During renovation, it was discovered not only that one wire held up this floor-to-ceiling mirror, but also that layers of original wallpaper were hiding behind the mirror. Those fragments informed the choice of the reproduction wallpaper that now hangs in the room.

Marla pointed out the reproduction floral carpet that was woven in England and asked me if I could spot the seams in it. Carpets of the period were woven in 27” strips, so a Cleveland man sewed the strips together by hand, she said.

She also called my attention to the window treatments in the room.

“Victorian homes took a layered approach to windows,” she said. “Layers of shutters, lace curtains, and heavy draperies created a haven that protected the residents of the home and kept the outside world out.”

As we walked across the hall to the Morning Room, Marla showed me some spectacular examples of faux painting techniques that imitate wood and marble. Malcolm Robson and his son, Paul, are master grainers that have worked on projects at Buckingham Palace, the White House, Mount Vernon, and the Kelton House.  The Robsons created wood graining on interior doors on the first floor and faux marble walls that extend from the ground floor to the upper floors of the original home.

The Morning Room is decorated to reflect the appearance of the room where the lady of the home spent much of her time. Surrounded by marbled paper walls and opulent drapes, I was in my element admiring the many examples of artistic pursuits that ladies engaged in during this period. A arrangement of flowers made of wax hangs above a melodeon that was made in Akron. An embroidered floral wreath dating from 1852 was reminiscent of the cushion cover worked in zephyr or Berlin wool that I saw at Winterthur. An elegant 19th century fleur-de-lis beadwork firescreen is mounted on the mantel; the fleur-de-lis is the Fraternity’s flower, representing dignity, stateliness and grace.

After pointing out a lover’s knot hairwork armband and talking about its significance in Victorian courtship, Marla called my attention to the collection of birds displayed underneath a glass cloche sitting on top of the mantel. Although Victorians preferred to keep the outside world firmly out of their homes, they welcomed bringing nature inside, Marla said. This arrangement, dating from 1870, illustrated a very curious pursuit of the period. Women would order dead birds from catalogs, stuff them and arrange them in lifelike poses to decorate their homes. Not long after, the National Audubon Society was founded, Marla observed.

In the dining room, one of David Gray’s renovations after the 1872 fire, I tried hard to contain my amazement when Marla lifted up a table pad and revealed a portion of the magnificent Duncan Phyfe mahogany table taking up the majority of the room. I wasn’t as successful at keeping my enthusiasm in check when she pointed out that the portraits in the room were of Celinda Hatton and her brother, who both taught art at Columbus School for Girls. On the sideboard, we admired a charming hot chocolate set that would have belonged to a young girl of the Victorian era. Beautiful sterling silver objects given as prizes to Fraternity chapters were right at home in an elegant example of built-in shelving in the corner of the room.

During the 19th century, the hallway provided guests with an initial glimpse into a family’s wealth and style. Just as the Victorians intended, I admired the delicate craftsmanship of the étagère that held knick-knacks and cherished possessions. After Marla showed me a beautifully carved cradle, she asked me whether I thought the small cupboard and bed were doll furniture. Education dollars continued to be at work when I correctly identified them as furniture samples. Marla also told me a great story about the life-size portrait of Tade Hartsuff Kuhns, the Fraternity’s first Grand President. Mrs. Kuhns wore a white dress for the sitting, but thought she needed more color, so she elegantly draped a table runner around her shoulders.

Finally, we climbed the home’s several flights of stairs, stopping to admire the many guest bedrooms that the Fraternity still uses to house members in town to attend meetings and other events. At the top of the last, very narrow, staircase, I found myself at the very top of the house, in a structure surrounded by windows that provides a scenic view of the neighborhood. While a widow’s walk is the common term for this structure on the coast, Marla taught me that in land-locked environments like ours, the enclosed cupola is referred to as a “Belvedere.” Marla said that David Tod’s wife, Maria, liked to rush up here before parties and see what her female guests were wearing as they emerged from their carriages. If anyone was wearing something more elegant than what she had chosen, she rushed downstairs to change into something else, so that she would be the best-dressed lady at the party.

The Heritage Museum is an educational outreach program of the Kappa Kappa Gamma Foundation. Guided tours are available by appointment. For information, call 614-228-6515 or click here.

That’s what this breakfast-loving morning person said last evening at the Grandview Heights Public Library, when Nick talked about blogging, writing Breakfast With Nick: Columbus: Your Guide to the Morning Meal in Ohio’s Capitol City, and the great things that have been happening to him ever since he started documenting his breakfast dining experiences.

Speaking to an almost-full house, Nick began by answering the question most people want to know: why he decided to write about breakfast. 

“Breakfast is a communal meal,” Nick said. “It’s rare that you go out to have it by yourself. Instead, it’s a tradition to go out for breakfast with family or friends.”

Nick grew up in Grand Rapids, Michigan, which he says is a breakfasting city. In Columbus, breakfast is a weekend thing, but in Grand Rapids, Nick shared, people are looking for an excuse to go out to breakfast. When he was in college, some of his classes even met for breakfast at the Boston House, one of his favorite breakfast hangouts. Now, it’s a tradition for Nick and his young family to have breakfast with his parents at the Real Food Café at least once whenever they visit Grand Rapids.

After finishing his dissertation on theatre history, Nick wanted to keep writing about something. As a frequent family blogger, Nick recognized his impulse to record things. Since he enjoys finding unique breakfast joints when he travels, blogging about breakfast was a natural conclusion.

“Theatre productions are a passing experience,” Nick said. “The performance is done and you move on.  As a theatre historian, your job is to recreate events for people.  The blog came out of my instinct to record my experiences and encourage people to try something new.”

So, in June 2007, Nick started a blog called “Breakfast with Nick.” Before long, he had established a following. People e-mailed him asking for good places to have breakfast on first visits to Columbus and on first dates. (614) Magazine invited him to contribute breakfast-related articles. PCWorld contacted him to share which food-related websites he turns to first when he’s looking for a place to grab a bite to eat. Perhaps best of all, Nick appeared in Breakfast Special, a July 2010 documentary by Rick Sebak, producer for WQED Pittsburgh, which chronicled breakfast across America and how it changes by region. Click here to see part of Nick’s appearance in the film.

One of the best parts of the evening was when Nick shared the clip from the documentary that recorded his visit, first to Skillet in German Village, then to The Best Breakfast & Sandwiches in Westerville. Nick said he chose these two restaurants for his appearance in Breakfast Special because they represent Columbus so well. Skillet’s creative, changing menu is based on what owners Patrick and Kevin Caskey can get from their local food suppliers, while Jan and Tom Spangler serve excellent traditional diner classics at The Best Breakfast & Sandwiches. I laughed out loud when I heard Patrick Caskey saying “I’ve got kitchen grease running through my veins.” I gasped when Tom Spangler pronounced that brushing potatoes with bacon grease is what makes them so good. And when I heard Tom say, “Once you’ve had our bread, we’ve got you hooked,” I vowed to visit 5916 Westerville Road soon.

Then, Nick described the story behind writing his book. He wanted it to be a complete guidebook for unique breakfast places in Columbus, but he knew that a book about food also had to look good. Teaming with his wife, Beth, and their friend Robin Oatts, designer and photographer at Genre Creative, Nick started the project in March 2011. Although there are close to 200 unique, locally owned establishments that serve breakfast in Columbus, Nick chose to feature 30 that were exemplary, but also represented the city’s diverse population. Visiting two places each week on Friday mornings through July 2011, the team learned how to style food and take appetizing pictures of it. But what made the greatest impression was the story of Jimmy Barouxis, owner of Buckeye Donuts. How this family of Greek immigrants made their business model so successful is what pulled the book into focus for Nick. 

Although Nick finished writing the text last September, he and Robin worked on the book until the last minute. A true historian who documents things correctly, Nick double-checked and corrected facts until the proof had to be sent to Old Trail Printing for the first printing of 1,000 copies. The book was released on November 5, 2011, the easy-to-remember date of Guy Fawkes Day. It’s now in its second printing.

Nick said that he tried to write the book so it was interesting to both a lifelong Columbus resident and an out-of-town visitor. While it’s exciting and rewarding for him to see people discovering new things, what he likes best is being able to showcase local businesses that rely on regular customers and word of mouth to grow their business.

As I watched the video that Nick and Robin created to pitch funding the first printing of the book to Kickstarter.com, I realized what a good friend to local business this creative, engaging, and enthusiastic go-getter is. This 1997 Columbus Business First Forty Under 40 honoree has found the person she’ll be nominating for this year’s award.

Their marriage also united two families who were parishioners of St. Leo Catholic Church. My favorite photo of their wedding day is one showing my grandparents leaving St. Leo’s after the ceremony. My elegant grandmother wore a black velvet suit trimmed with a silver fox collar and a corsage of gardenias and lilies of the valley, while my debonair grandfather accessorized his suit and overcoat with a long, fringed silk scarf. The photo captures how fun that day must have been, even for my grandfather’s two youngest brothers, who are the two boys in knickers at the right of the photo.

Located at 221 Hanford Street in Merion Village, on the South Side of Columbus, St. Leo’s was organized in 1902 by Father Charles F. Kessler. On December 13, 1903, the Church of St. Leo the Great was dedicated. September 1904 saw the opening of the parochial grade school where my grandparents and their siblings attended. To accommodate a growing parish, a new St. Leo Church was dedicated by Bishop Hartley on May 16, 1917.

St. Leo’s was an important part of my ancestors’ lives. Card-playing with the friendly and likeable Father Kessler resulted in my great-great-grandfather’s conversion to Catholicism. My great-grandfather led the parish’s group of the Catholic Order of Foresters’ Boy Rangers. Besides being married at St. Leo’s, my grandparents made their First Communion and were confirmed there.

St. Leo’s interior reflects the parish’s German heritage. It features a “German Romantic” pipe organ. The two angels on either side of the altar were gifts of Father Kessler. Its stained glass windows were donated by various members of the congregation and their friends. One of the windows was donated by the “Hanford Club,” a card club to which my great-grandparents, together with the parents of several school friends of my grandmother’s, belonged.

St. Leo’s was closed on July 1, 1999. However, efforts are being made to restore the church and maintain its community. Caretaker Mike Wolf raised funds to undertake a large amount of restoration work. Outside, Mr. Wolf oversaw the installation of a new roof, new gutters, brick tuckpointing, and replacement of the old limestone steps. Inside, water damage from masonry leaks was repaired; plaster was redone; damaged mouldings were rebuilt; walls were painted and given a new decorative stencil finish; the wood floor was sanded and refinished; pews were scraped, sanded, cleaned and revarnished; all marble was cleaned and polished; and the Stations of the Cross were repainted.

On December 29, 2011, the feast day of St. Thomas Becket, St. Leo’s was open for a special Family Mass. Cindy and Ken joined us for the Mass, which was celebrated by Rev. Tyron Tomson, parochial vicar at our parish, St. Andrew Church. Father Tomson was ordained to the Catholic priesthood last May, but he has been a friend of St. Leo’s since he was a student at St. Charles Preparatory High School, when he played St. Leo’s organ both for special occasions and to “exercise” it. After celebrating Mass, Father Tomson treated us to a spectacular organ concert, which concluded with Gustav Holst’s “Thaxted,” one of my most-loved hymn tunes. 

We were also happy to see and catch up with Marty, my uncle Tom’s high school classmate who became one of our favorite friends.  It’s always a treat to see this friendly, funny and kind man who works tirelessly on behalf of St. Leo’s, Moeller Park, and Merion Village.

On the way home, we passed the home at 84 East Moler Street where my grandmother grew up and the persimmon tree that still stands in Uncle Henry’s back yard.  Like Cindy observed, we felt the presence not only of our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents, but also of our heritage.  “I could almost hear my father singing ‘Adeste Fideles’ again,” she said.

If you’d like to help save St. Leo, you can make a donation to The St. Leo Preservation Society, a 501.c.3 organization that helps to fund additional restoration work. You can also purchase special St. Leo keepsakes, including notecards with full color reproductions of details from St. Leo stained glass windows and a CD of music played on the St. Leo organ.  St. Leo’s will be open next for an organ concert on January 29, 2012.

Located at 4408 Indianola Avenue, in the Columbus neighborhood of Beechwold, the Beechwold Diner is a find. Its friendly, welcoming atmosphere is just as great as the food it serves.

While Andy’s been a regular at the diner since it opened two years ago today, I’m a new fan of this restaurant that serves breakfast and lunch.

Ever since I got wind of the fact that the diner serves an excellent corned beef hash, I’ve been hankering to give its version a try. I acquired a taste for corned beef hash when I was a little girl, on Sunday-morning visits to the Stouffer’s on Olentangy River Road with my parents and grandparents. The diner’s is better than the Stouffer’s version that I remember. Paired with a perfectly poached egg – in a cup, I might add, not marring the beauty of the hash – and a neatly stacked pile of buttery wheat toast, my breakfast plate was tidy and tantalizing, just how I like. Andy opted for the Greek omelet, a tasty-looking concoction of gyro meat, spinach, feta cheese, green pepper and tomato, with a generous helping of home fries and more buttery wheat toast to keep it company.

A special guest even joined us for part of our visit.

Andy and I are devotees of Nick Dekker, a blogger and author of Breakfast With Nick: Columbus, a guidebook to Nick’s favorite breakfast hangouts in Columbus. Nick visited the Beechwold Diner on January 9, 2010 and blogged about his visit.  Thanks to Andy’s quick thinking and his smartphone, he let Nick know that he was introducing me to the diner. Nick answered right back, sending a few real-time greetings to us, which made the visit even more fun.

When we left, I made a little new year’s resolution. I could easily eat my way through the Beechwold Diner’s menu, which I hope to attempt throughout this new year.

If you’re interested in learning more about other Columbus breakfast finds, stop by the Grandview Heights Public Library on Tuesday, January 10, 2012 at 7:00 p.m. Nick will be talking about his new book.  Guess who’ll be in the audience?

One is listening to the Vienna’s Philharmonic’s New Year’s concert. Ever since my first visit to Vienna as a nine-year-old in the summer of 1979, I’ve hummed along to the irresistible melodies of the Strauss family’s waltzes and the annual concert that has become a symbol of Viennese culture. Someday, I’d like to return to the Musikverein to experience the concert for myself, but until then, I never miss listening to the live broadcast on WOSU-FM and watching it later in the day on Great Performances.

The other is reading Miss Flora McFlimsey and the Baby New Year, by Mariana. As Vienna sends its New Year’s greeting of hope, peace and friendship to the world, I read the tale of how an unexpected guest visits a little blond doll and an “always perfect” black cat.

Feeling lonely because all the other dolls had gone to a New Year’s party, Miss Flora McFlimsey sits by the fire in her little red rocking chair. Pookoo Cat encourages her to make some New Year’s resolutions. Suddenly the door blows open and in comes a tiny creature with a ribbon tied over one shoulder that reads Little New Year. Miss Flora McFlimsey fusses over the “little shivering thing,” dressing him in a little shirt, fixing him warm milk, rocking him and singing a lullaby. When the clock strikes twelve, the Little New Year opens his eyes, smiles, and disappears.

Mariana wrote and illustrated eight other adventures featuring Miss Flora McFlimsey. When Cindy found a copy of Miss Flora McFlimsey’s Valentine the other day, Mariana became one of our research topics.

According to Contemporary Authors Online, Marian Curtis Foster (1909-1978) was a native of Cleveland who wrote and illustrated books for children under the pseudonym Mariana. During the Depression, she worked on the American Index Project of the W.P.A., making drawings of early American objects at museums. Dolls and toys were her favorite. At the New York Historical Society, she discovered an old doll named for the heroine of the 19th century poem, Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square.

While looking through a book called Child Life in Colonial Days, Marian found a picture of a rag doll named Bangwell Putt. The doll belonged to a blind girl named Clarissa Field, who was born in 1765 and lived in Northfield, Massachusetts. Dating from about 1770, the hand-made Bangwell doesn’t have facial features, but she has ten carefully made fingers, suggesting how important the sense of touch was to Clarissa. Bangwell is dressed in 18th century fashion, including a corset. Clarissa kept Bangwell until she died in her eighties. Today, Bangwell is thought to be the oldest surviving rag doll in North America. She lives in the Children’s Room of the Memorial Hall Museum in Deerfield, Massachusetts. You can see a picture of her here.

Marian wrote about Bangwell in The Journey of Bangwell Putt, first published in 1945 in a limited, signed edition of 500 copies, and later published in a larger edition in 1965. Hand-lettered and drawn, the book follows Bangwell on a journey to the Museum of the City of New York, where she is on loan for a Christmas exhibition of old and rare objects. At a Christmas ball, she meets a Hessian soldier, who gives her a comb to put in her hair and some slippers to dance in.

In 1973, we visited Deerfield, and I saw Bangwell Putt. My parents bought a copy of The Journey of Bangwell Putt to remind me of my visit. I had my picture taken with the book outside the museum.

Later in the trip, when we were in Camden, Maine, I was so focused on “B. Putt” that I wrote a story called “Bangwell Putt’s Christmas Party.” Here’s what the book looks like.

Marian also illustrated another New Year-themed book that I like to read at this time of year: Little Bear’s New Year’s Party.

Many of Marian’s original drawings are housed in the special Mariana Room of the Hockessin Elementary School Library in Wilmington, Delaware. Looks like Cindy and I had better plan another trip to Winterthur.

Miss Flora McFlimsey sets a good example with her New Year’s resolutions of trying to do better, to keep her promises, and to be kind. As the Vienna Philharmonic concludes this year’s concert, Prosit Neujahr to you!

Built in 1852 by Columbus merchant Fernando Cortez Kelton and his wife, Sophia, the Greek Revival and Italianate home was a stop on the Underground Railroad. The Keltons’ granddaughter, Grace, a noted interior decorator, lived in the home until her death in 1975. Soon after, it was restored by the Junior League of Columbus and opened to the public as a historic house museum.

Victorian throwbacks like me appreciate the fact that the museum contains the same furnishings, clothing, books and decorative art objects that were owned by the Keltons. Visitors can see a brooch made of woven hair, a lyre card table attributed to Duncan Phyfe, Staffordshire china, and a lithograph depicting President Lincoln’s funeral procession in Columbus. Two special favorites of mine are the needlepoint trompe l’oeil window treatments in the reception room and the drapery cornices in the drawing room that began life as a walnut bedstead.

There’s plenty of interesting historical trivia to learn about the Kelton House. According to Bill Arter’s Columbus Vignettes feature on the Kelton House, when the Kelton boys developed a fondness for billiards, their mother installed a billiard table in the front drawing room so they could improve their game and she could enjoy their company at home. Even the first landing on the stairway is significant. That’s where William Dean Howells proposed to his wife, Mr. Arter wrote.

It had been years since I’d visited the Kelton House during the holidays, so I walked over yesterday to see a display of 19th century Christmas ornaments from the collection of Michael Girard. Feather trees, antique glass ornaments, scenic cardboard villages, various renditions of Santa Claus and Dresden ornaments handcrafted from chromolithograph “scraps” and tinsel adorn each of the downstairs rooms. Upstairs, a cob-web game is under way in one of the bedrooms. In this Victorian Christmas tradition, children follow their own colored ribbon through a maze of many ribbons to find their gifts on which their ribbon ends. Unique Christmas cards drawn and sent by Grace Kelton hang on an upstairs hallway wall. The Kelton House’s holiday decorations are on display through January 6, 2012.

Located at 586 East Town Street, the Kelton House is a wonderful downtown Columbus attraction. While docent-led tours are available on Sunday afternoons at 1:00, 2:00 and 3:00 pm, an audio tour now makes it possible for Downtown workers like me to find refuge here Monday through Friday from 10:00 am to 4:00 pm (the last tour begins at 3:00).

The audio tour is an excellent illustration of the Kelton House’s educational mission. Museum Director Georgeanne Reuter and others provide commentary about each of the rooms, including little-known features of particular objects. You can hear the ticking and chiming of the front-hall clock and the hiss of gas as the technique of lighting a gas chandelier is explained. Given my propensity to fainting, I paid close attention during a description of why the fainting couch was popular during the 19th century. Best of all was a revealing explanation of the Harper’s Weekly covers lining the walls of the Carriage House that’s now used for special events. Edward Penfield, one of the leading artists of the “Golden Age of American Illustration” and the art director of Harper’s Weekly, was a relative of Grace Kelton’s. Take the audio tour to hear why these magazine covers were displayed in shop windows and some interesting trivia about the July cover on the northeast wall.

Besides touring the Keltons’ home, you can enjoy several special features during a visit to the Kelton House Museum. Monthly afternoon Victorian teas offer an array of sweet and savory treats, plus a short educational program about an object from the museum’s collection. A series of Civil War Sesquicentennial programs and “Martha’s Journey,” a living history drama for 3rd and 4th graders about the house’s role on the Underground Railroad, are ways to discover history through the Kelton House. And the museum gift shop is a great source for unique gifts. In addition to carrying items reminiscent of the 19th century, the shop sells two prints of original artwork by Grace Kelton and items handcrafted by local female artists, in keeping with the Junior League’s mission of developing the potential of women.