Monday Afternoon Reading: Family Connections

If you're one of those persons who hate Mondays with a passion, I feel your pain and have something to make it better, in the form of a very interesting link. If you on the contrary happen to love Mondays, oh well, I can't say I really understand you, but I still have a very interesting link for you.

So if you ever wondered who was the inspiration behind some of Margaret Mitchell's characters (I know I did), or just happened to ask yourself "Hmm, what's the connection between Doc Holliday and Scarlett O'Hara?", now you have your answer.

This link is for all of you who find such tidbits interesting, but for one of our readers in particular. We also promise that lady that there will be more on this topic. Now go read the story here: 

http://mymindisongeorgia.blogspot.com/2008/02/hollidays-hamiltons-and-wilkes-real.html

A Place for Scarlett O'Hara's Confessions

The first Catholic Church of Atlanta--what a better topic for a lovely Sunday afternoon? Now, we're well aware that this is one building Scarlett didn't get to see that much, despite what our title might suggest, but this church's history, through all its metamorphoses, ties in so nicely with Atlanta's own history that we figured it deserves a post.

When Atlanta was in its infancy, and still called Marthasville, all of its religious groups were united in the same building.  The settlement's population, though very small, comprised  Methodists, Baptists, Catholics, Episcopalians and Presbyterians, but, since there wasn't enough money to erect five separate churches, pragmatism triumphed over religious differences. They combined their resources and built a simple two-chimney clapboard structure on a triangular lot bounded by Peachtree, Pryor and Houston Streets. 

This  happy ecumenism born out of practicality would be short lived though. One by one, the congregations moved into their own buildings; the Catholic congregation in 1848. Its new church, on the corner of Loyd and Hunter streets, was still a plain wood frame structure, quite representative for the steady developing city's architecture at the time. The church didn't have a name yet and was simply known as "the Catholic Church," pertaining from 1850 to the diocese of Savannah.

The most heroic moment in the existence of this congregation came during Sherman's occupation of Atlanta, when Father Thomas O'Reilly saved the town's churches from being burned to the ground. His strategy? He simply announced that if his church was fired, then all the Roman Catholics in Sherman's army would leave their ranks. Between his popularity as a chaplain even among Federal troops and the fact that the regiment was composed largely of Catholics, the church and all its surroundings were spared.  That is not to say the church escaped the war intact, for its facade had already been affected by a shell during the siege.

As Atlanta rose from its ashes in the years after the war, it seemed that the passion for building, and building big, extended to churches as well. In 1869, the cornerstone was laid for a new building to replace the old simple edifice of the Catholic Church. It was an event altogether, having in attendance the famous Father Ryan, the Poet-Priest of the Confederacy, who even held a speech, much to Atlanta's pride. The commissioned architect was William H. Parkins, who would establish his reputation in Georgia through building this church. 

In 1873, the imposing cathedral-like building was ready for use, though work continued on portions of it till 1880. Unfortunately, by the time the church was inaugurated in 1873 and received its name, the Church of Immaculate Conception,  its hero and savior, Father O'Reilly, had already passed away.

That the edifice was grand you can see for yourselves in the picture above.  Made of painted red brick, it was of Gothic design, with its tall square tower and its three-arched main entrance.  We guess that if Scarlett ever wanted to turn religious after Rhett left her in 1873, she now had a stately enough church to go to. Unless of course you, like my co-blogger, are firm believers in the reconciliation scenario. In that case, I guess this was a good venue for them to renew their vows. Or something like that.

Aside or Astride?

A gnawing question to be sure. Unless of course you live in the 19th century (or are a nice normal person with no interest in antiquated styles of horse riding whatsoever). We can't help you in the latter case, but for the former the answer is fairly simple. With the exception of unusual circumstances and emergencies (remember Melanie Wilkes galloping away astride when the Yankees came to Tara?), Victorian ladies rode aside on their horses, with the aid of a sidesaddle.  Were there women who chose to ride astride? Sure, but the majority continued to use the sidesaddle until the feminist movements at the onset of the 20th century started to vocally oppose the practice.

In some ways, we could say sidesaddles shared the fate of hoop skirts. They would both be ridiculed and demonized by later movements as instruments that kept women in a perpetual state of helplessness, but, at the time they were introduced, they actually represented a step forward to women gaining autonomy. Just like the metallic hoop skirts greatly diminished the weight of the undergarments a woman was supposed to wear and made walking easier, the 19th century sidesaddle made riding and even jumping safe(r) for women.

You see, the first medieval sidesaddles were simply modified seats fastened on a horse, with the passenger facing sideways and having little or no control over the animal's movements. The horses were usually led by someone else. This system solved the issue of modesty quite well, but it offered no middle ground. A woman wanting to ride would have to do it astride, a woman wanting to be ladylike would have to move at a snail's pace or be led.

The modern sidesaddle probably evolved from a regular cross-saddle, on which two pommels were strategically placed to hold into position the rider's right leg while allowing her to face forward. We can actually get a pretty good idea on how the modern position was born from Gone with the Wind itself. Here's Scarlett, having only a man's saddle at her disposal but still wanting to ride in the proper way--with her legs not showing from under her skirts:

Brunch with the Butlers (a Bonus Edition of Southern Cookin')

Because we're already somewhat awash in weekly features here, we decided we would post our Southern Cookin' series on a more intermittent basis, so the blog doesn't start to resemble a soup du jour menu ("Oh, it's Thursday? I'll take the tomato soup Poster of the Week, please.") 

And while that'll still be the plan going forward, we did have a special request from a reader for another installment of Southern Cookin' this week.  And since we aim to please (and we're in possession of a storehouse of old-time recipes), we're happy to feature another selection from Charleston Recollections and Receipts: Rose P. Ravenel's Cookbook. (If you're just tuning in now, info on the cookbook and its ties to the real Butler clan of Charleston can be found in our inaugural post.)

This week's bonus recipe is a full breakfast/brunch menu.  It's just out of the oven and waiting you on the other side of the jump.   

Ben Bolt: A Song to Sing the Morning After

"Oh she wept with delight when he gave her a smile and trembled with fear at his frown."

--Scarlett O'Hara, movie version of Gone with the Wind

Right up until the point Rhett walks in the door and things go dramatically down hill, one of my favorite scenes from Gone with the Wind the movie is the "morning after" one, with Scarlett finding herself so giddy over the prior night's turn of events that she spontaneously breaks into song. But even after countless viewings, I must say Scarlett's little ditty still strikes me as both an endearing and odd selection. (Maybe it's just me, but I can't envision Scarlett O'Hara trembling with fear at any man's frown, not even the Devil's himself.)

So because it's a point that intrigues me, today the song in question finds itself as the topic of a blog post. In the scene you can watch below (double-click on the picture to watch the video), Scarlett is singing slightly modified lyrics to Ben Bolt (the original lyrics are "Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile/And trembled with fear at your frown?").  Written first as poem in 1843 by Thomas Dunn English, Ben Bolt was  later arranged into song by composer Nelson Kneass in 1848. It was a tremendously popular song in its day--and quite a sad one, too, for in it the narrator nostalgically mourns the passing of days gone and loved ones lost to his friend, Ben Bolt.  A recording of the complete song is available here and original sheet music here, and full lyrics are after the jump at the end.

From GWTW Videos

Edgar Allen Poe himself described Ben Bolt as possessing a "simplicity of diction and touching truthfulness of narrative." Not bad praise, especially considering Poe and English were bitter rivals. (Things got so intense between the two that Poe eventually sued the Evening Mirror for publishing an article with English's claims that Poe committed forgery.) 

And there you have it--the history behind Scarlett's "morning after" song. Looked at in context, it becomes an even more interesting musical choice for Selznick & Co. to have picked. For as Scarlett jubilantly sings some of the few upbeat lyrics from a song about loss, it's a subtle tell that we all won't get our happy ending here either--Rhett's about to walk in that door, kicking off another round of Butler marital dysfunction and moving us one step closer to the inevitable "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" conclusion. 

Poster of the Week

This oversized poster (40x60) from 1939 was developed by MGM using a rare seven-color format.  You'll note that it (oddly) changes Scarlett's green sprigged dress into a red one and also adds more color to Melanie's dress from the scene of Charles and Scarlett's wedding.

MGM was quite proud of their handiwork on this poster and heralded it in their Gone with the Wind Press Book (used to showcase advertising options to theatre companies and other vendors): 

"Heretofore, similar designs on other pictures were printed in only 1 or 2 colors, with the exception of a 40x60 on "The Wizard of Oz" which was reproduced in 5 colors for the first time. It went over so big with exhibitors that we have put out another equally fine and impressive design. Display one in your advance lobby, on your theatre front, in book stores and public libraries. It's 10 times the size shown here! Price $1.50 each regardless of quantity."  

--excerpted from "Frankly My Dear..." by Herb Bridges

 

Image from moviegoods.com.  Poster information cited from Herb Bridges' "Frankly My Dear..." 

Beyond the Chignon, Part 2: Reconstruction Era Hairstyles

"Scarlett dressed with more than usual care that afternoon for her trip to the store and the lumber yard, wearing the new dull-green changeable taffeta frock that looked lilac in some lights and the new pale-green bonnet, circled about with dark-green plumes.  If only Rhett would let her cut bangs and frizzle them on her forehead, how much better this bonnet would look!  But he had declared that he would shave her whole head if she banged her forelocks."  

 --Gone with the Wind, Chapter LIII

So following our look last week at Civil War hairstyles, this week it's time to tackle Reconstruction Era hairstyles in the second (and final) part of our Beyond the Chignon series. 

As the United States rebuilt from the Civil War and moved into what would be fondly known as the Gilded Age, it's no surprise that hairstyles evolved to match the glitz and occasional excesses of this period that brought us the bustle, Scarlett's trashy friends, and  the much-discussed ostentation of the Butler Mansion. 

But instead of me solely summarizing a couple of popular styles like I did last week, this time I'm happy to hand off some of the description duties to an actual coiffure expert from the period, Mark Campbell, the author of 1867's Self-Instructor in the Art of Hair Work, Dressing Hair, Making Curls, Switches, Braids, and Hair Jewelry of Every Description. After the jump, you'll find a slideshow of what Mr. Campbell assures us are "the latest and most fashionable European and American styles... indispensable to every lady's toilet."  As you'd expect from a book titled The Self-Instructor, the styles come complete with  full instructions, so you if you're yearning to try out the Promenade, the Shepherdess  or  any other fancy hairstyle, you can do so.  You'll find that and more Reconstruction Era hairstyle info below.