Hats Fantastic, a marvelous journey introduction

  

Let me tell you about myself. 

I am John Pierpont.

                              

            My business associates call me Professor Marvel. 

            My friends call me Ponty

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a professor. Well, I do not have a degree in fashion or millenary. But why should that stop me? I have wicked sense of style, and a passion for unusual design. A perfect recipe for an outstanding hat.

With my dearest friends we decided to build a hotel with a small park attached. Little did we know what we would accomplish.

We had a few hiccups to say the least....

Edna May. 

She ran the brothel in the Lumber camp in the canyon. As we expanded the park, the oldest profession in the world had no place in a family setting. Safe to say, she was not happy. I soon found out an incident that was all part of the Edna's plan to inherit back some of the parkland that they lost when the founders started buying up everything and closed down their gramma's brothel...

Young Fishington was quite a rascal in his younger days. The stories of his escapades made for quite the gossip fodder. If Stanley Wolf believed any of it, he kept it to himself. Edna set her sights on him, because everyone knew, Fishington was always trying different things. He loved exploration. He loved exotic foods. He was a patron of the arts. She would appeal to his questioning nature. She would seduce him and produce an heir. An heir to eventually take control of the mounting wealth that he had amassed.

So, she assumed. 

(Personally, I think one of the Edna triplets tried to seduce him with absinthe because he certainly would have had to be unconscious...)   

The deed was planned.

But never carried out.

Why you ask? 

Well, there is a story there too.

And amazingly enough, it involves a hat.

Here's where yours truly comes in to save the day. 

To begin, we were all quite young. Headstrong gentleman trying to make a name and fortune for us. Doc Fishington was trying to raise monies and investors for the park while The Major was appearing in Pirates of Penzance's North American tour. As luck would have it, the costumes had been damaged by an itinerant laborer and the production hats had been soaked wet, when the trunks fell into the Missouri River in Omaha. I had been plucked from obscurity from the Omaha's Fancy Goods & Mercantile to savage what I could. The Major, impressed by my work on his Act 1 hat, insisted I become his personal costumer and travel with the company to finish the tour.

Working for the Major was, well, an experience. What I first chalked up to an eccentric scatterbrain was in fact, a calculated persona of proper British manners and posh Mayfair accent. One evening, after a performance in St Louis, the MG pulled me aside. Ponty, he said, your very talented in the Millenary business, " What other talents do you possess? Any other creative endeavors? Interior design? Architecture? Have you ever thought about the burgeoning Trolley Park industry? 

Well, there is something you don't hear every day. "Well, Sir, Architecture has always been a passion of mine. Designing a hat can be like designing a home. A nice sturdy base with fancy trims to make it stand out. But I have never thought about a Trolley Park." "The tour ends soon", the MG quipped. "Return to Peepsburg with me. I will introduce you to Doc Fishington and his marvelous plan to turn a swampy pond into a Lakeside Resort. We could use a talent like yours. You'll be well compensated, and the exposure would put a nice feather in your cap, so to speak." The MG smiled at his own joke and twirled that signature mustache of his. "By the by, how are you with the ladies? Oh, don't look at me that way, that's not what I mean. What I refer to is, can you design a hat for a lady, well, lady is an exaggeration. " He rolled his eyes in what I learned was an uncontrollable action on his part. She has nefarious plans. You, good Sir, can help to derail them. All it will take is a hat. A special hat. Do you think you're up to the task?" He smiled in a way that was impossible to say no too. 

So off to Peepsburg and Rose Lake we did go....

Many years later, about 1950, after the statute of limitations had expired and no one could be prosecuted, the MG, Fishy and I were lounging by the pool at the Fabulous Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas. We were guests of the mobster Bugsy Segal. The MG asked what ever became of Edna May's "special" hat. Jason suddenly needed a refreshment and hurried to the Casino Lounge, " Stan, it's been years, why ask now?" "Well, Bugsy inquired earlier about a "special" hat. Something about a debt to pay, etc., etc., I have no clue what any of that is all about." The MG sipped his Mai Tai and deftly plucked the paper umbrella out of it and stabbed the pineapple wedge as he gave me a side eye. 

" Everyone knew she passed from a bad heart, not from possible arsenic and lead poisoning from, oh I don't know, something she was wearing every day for weeks, or months. She was buried in it for heavens sakes, so it couldn't have been that. Where in bloody hell did Jason go? This drink isn't going to refresh itself and the poolside waitresses seemed to have vanished in this desert heat." The MG fanned himself with a program from the evening performance he was starring in. He glanced at it. " I do not know how, Greased Lighting Tonight, Songs of Nat King Cole, will go over with this crowd." 

 " How did you?" I stumbled on the words.

"My dear Ponty, I asked you to make something, and you did. I did not ask for details. It gave me plausible deniability. We averted a difficult situation, and my Jason was spared an unfortunate dilemma. If Bugsy wishes to employ your services after all these years, who am I to interfere? " 

" I think I'll pass, I'm retired, we all are. My hat days are long over.", my voice trailed off. 

"Oh, heavens, you think you, Oh, no, no, no," The MG scoffed. "Three words. Edna May Jr. The bad apple didn't fall far from the tree. Your hat was a distraction. Nothing more. Merely corroborative detail intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative."

I sputtered," Stan Wolf, did you just quote the Mikado again?"

   

     

       

Merrily We Rolls Along

 

An excerpt from the Downtownton Diaries....

Reginald Downtownton writes:

Late 1949

I must admit, I have grown quite fond of Cousin Stanley these past few years. His eccentricities and theatrical whims make for an interesting business partner, but he has been most kind to us and is Agnes' favorite of her Rose Lake Uncles (no one tell Fishington!)

He regularly takes the ladies out on the lake and regales them with showtunes, I myself have joined them on occasion and I must say they are the most enjoyable voyages!

So, what to do to show the man my gratitude for his kindness and hospitality?

I noticed his prized motorcar had been in the garage for a while and asked why it was no longer on the road. "The fluffer has sprocketed the kerjigger" he replied, so one can only assume he knows nothing of mechanical engineering... but an idea was born! 

Downtownton Estate has survived this ghastly war unscathed and so I asked Jeeves to go to the garages and retrieve a vehicle to send to us post haste, after all, we had so many I couldn't see mother missing one. He found a rather marvelous Rolls and organized for it to be packaged in a crate and sent to us in Peepsburgh. 

After a few words (and a handful of this country's unfathomable currency!) I was able to convince the local lumber company to accept this rather large shipment at their Port Parlusiana docks where I would meet it to drive up the hill and through the Rosebud Tunnel to the park. Why this country can't drive on the correct side of the road is beyond me and it made for an interesting journey back to the park but thankfully myself and the Rolls arrived unscathed.

I parked in the Bruin circle and sent for the Major General. On arrival his eyes lit up, "What a fine automobile you have there Reggie!" he exclaimed "What a fine automobile YOU have there!" I replied. I have never before been kissed by a man, I can only assume it is a local custom or another of his eccentric habits, but I am assured by Marvel this means he liked the gift. I barely had time to ask before he had grabbed an usher from the Bruin and instructed them to chauffeur him around the local area to show off his new motorcar. As they drove away, I noticed him roll down the window, waving to all and sundry. 

What a delightfully strange man I thought to myself, but one I couldn't imagine being without. 

I shortly returned home after a quick inspection of the bakery. Sarah was in the parlor finishing up some embroidery work while Nanny was getting Agnus settled in for the evening. "How did your special delivery go, dearest? Sarah peered over her glasses. "Excellent my love, Cousin Stanley was quite elated at our gift. I peeked at her needlework. "What is that your making? Pardon my asking, but it looks rather odd" It was a silhouette crafted in black thread much like a photograph. The visage was quite unmistakable. "Is that Professor Marvel's head?" I was a bit taken aback." Youve a good eye, Reginald. It's a small gift for all his continues kindnesses." She snipped a small thread with her dainty scissors. "But what is it? A handkerchief? A napkin? A doily? An ascot cravat? I was a bit confused. She giggled, "No silly its head scarf. These cold Plancovanian nights are brutal. You wear it under your hat to keep your head warm. You have a head full of hair to accomplish that task. Poor Julius, well not so much." One couldn't argue with feminine logic.

A rather loud car horn blast interrupted our conversation. I recognized it immediately and glanced out the parlor window. "Come outside with me. The Major has arrived". I grabbed my wife's hand and led her to the porch. Stan was parked at the curb, well to be correct, over the curb, a bit on the lawn. Nothing the gardeners couldn't fix. They had before. Unfortunately for the motoring populace of the town, he was behind the driver's wheel.  He flashed that smile of his, "Once I got used to the steering being on the right side, I stopped veering into oncoming traffic. It was right thrilling it was. Though I am not familiar with this new hand signal all the drivers are using. What exactly does a raised middle finger mean?" I shook my head and said, "Cousin, where is your driver? You left the Bruin with one." " Oh, he isn't my driver. I just borrowed him. All of my previous chauffeurs had been drafted into the army for service. Well, at least the ones that had a license. Once I had keenly observed the mechanical and handling of this magnificent machine, I switched seats with the fellow. We were only going the speed limit, so it wasn't difficult at all. He protested a bit, but I assured him I was certainly capable of driving. I was a bit surprised when he jumped out and abandoned me there in the middle of Rose Lake Blvd, I certainly would have stopped or a least slowed a bit, but he seemed insistent to get out." Stan was very matter of fact about it all.

I would ring the Bruin later to check if the fellow had returned in one piece. He had with only a few minor scratches and a missing suit button. Bully for him.

"Hop into my carriage, cousins. Let's take this beauty for a jaunt around the block." He patted the side of the Rolls Royce like it was a thoroughbred horse.

Sarah piped up," Oh thank you ever so, cousin but we were just sitting down to tea. Would you care to join us?" She was a clever girl, that one.

Maybe some other time Sarah, I am rather enjoying my new motorcar. I wonder if Jason cares for a spin?" Stan then proceeded to execute a U-turn across the corner of the lawn." "So sorry, cousins. Send an invoice for that, if you will" Waving goodbye as he headed straight for Rochelle House. Of course, it was across two lanes of traffic, the trolley tracks, and narrowly avoiding the midtown express. Sarah leaned in, "It's time for tea and I will have Grimsby alert the proper authorities than the Major is at large in a new motorcar. It's not like anyone else in town has a Rolls Royce. He will not be hard to miss." I pondered, "One can only hope he will run out of gas before the Stateline." Sarah scoffed, "When has that ever stopped him?" 

Toche Madam, Toche. 

Rose Lake New Years Eve 1939 or Who dropped the Ball this time?

 "My Glorious Life" The Dirty 30's

I was sitting at my little writing desk paying bills and correspondences. Scribbling away in my horrible cursive, the breeze softly wafted outside of Savoy Terrace, the dressing room house I had built behind the theater. I was not a adept as Jason, who's handwriting was an art form itself. He snuck up behind me not wanting to disturb my train of thought, I had a terrible habit of being distracted quite easily." We should probably start getting ready for tonight, you know how long it takes you" I harrumphed, "Achieving perfection can never be rushed, unless of course, its costing ME money.  Nothing for me to do, but sign my autograph several hundred times. Have you finished your end of the preparations? It seems I am just here paying for them all" I picked up an invoice, "Why are we paying this much for beef? Good Heavens, what does it take to shoot a cow? Chicken would have been sufficient."

Jason looked at me astonished, "Well, Excuse me, Mr Major General Stanley Wolf, it is not I who wanted the best cuts of beef for his guests. I am sure Ponty would have sacrificed a few Water Buffalo from the Zoo instead". 

"Heavens, do not let him hear you say THAT, a few peacocks went missing after last Spring's new chapeau line. Well, I just will not say what I think happened to those poor birds" I was only slightly truthful. I know damn well where they went. "Marvel this chicken tastes off. You best speak to the Chef. We cannot have this kind of thing at the Grand Aubergine." Ponty waved his hand, "I never said it was chicken, I said it was fowl". My eyes widened, "It  certainly is FOWL, Marvel ,what have you done?"

Jason, smirked." We all know what happened ,why are you fussing over feathers. Now put all that way and wash up. I do not care to be late, no need for a grand entrance."

"Oh , and why not?" I only pretended to be miffed for having been called out on such antics I was well know for. "Stuff and Nonsense, I shall get in the tub now." So I tossed off my dressing gown and stepped into the bath, the water already drawn.. "Scrub my back for me?" Subtlety was not my forte.

Jason shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Your back and nothing more. Mind your manners, I can always find another place for this soap."

"My Dear Mr Fishington, Do not threaten me with a good time"

This passage was lifted from Doc Fishington's  account of that night.

We pulled up to the Bruin in the Stutz Bearcat, a bit late, no fault of my own. I blame the soap. I disliked driving the contraption, it was showing its age. The Duesenberg was in the shop, Ponty had driven over a peacock. He had said, "It was an accident." I hardly think so Julius Pierpont, I hardly think so.

Stan just sat there fidgeting. "Do not think for a moment I am opening that door for you. I am NOT your chauffer, your valet or one of your many fans". I caught myself, but Stan snapped back." What in Heavens name? Are you Mad? I was not waiting for you, that is the cause of my trepidation." he pointed across the forecourt of the Bruin. A lone figure leaned on the wall smoking. They approached the car slowly. "In Zeus name , is that ? " I paused. 

"I believe it is, Doctor Fishington" Bart Tete De Tareau was leaning against the fender of the Bearcat. "I see MY car still is in great shape for the age of its owner." Stan through open the door almost knocking Bart to the pavement. "You could of killed me Major, foul play indeed". He chortled.

"YOU Get your filthy hands off MY car and step out of my way. The Doctor and I have things to attend to and you Sir, are not one of them." I jumped out of the car and got to Bart first. For I knew if he threw a punch, Stan with out his spectacles, was  down and out.

"Step away, De Tareau, Your services are not wanted or needed here anymore" I prepared myself for fisticuffs, if the need would arise. I feared it could  be shortly.

"I see you two are still as close as ever, special friends, as it were. Pity if your new investors ever found out. What a shame that would be for Rose Lake, think of the disgrace." Bart puffed on his cigar.

I clenched my teeth and Stan bristled and huffed. "Our relationship in none of YOUR damn business, Bart. What is it you want at so late an hour. Hurry along as I have not the time nor the patience for parlor games."

"All I want is what is due to me" Bart blew his cigar smoke into our faces. Stan coughed violently as he was allergic to smoke at close range, a fact well know to Bart.

"Why you loathsome...." It boiled my blood and I drew back to strike him down. 

"Well, Hello all, my goodness, Bart Titty Tarry Toe, what a pleasant surprise." Ponty arrived out of thin air, in a huge feathered headdress, looking bizarre and spectacular all at the same time.

"Marvel, gay as always aren't you" Bart sneered.

"Why yes, I am quite happy at the moment. Major Wolf and Doc Fishington everyone is waiting for you inside. Go ahead in , Ill park the Bearcat out back. Bart it was lovely to see you. We thought you were incarcerated or on the lamb from the law, you know ,that thing you do so well. Truthfully, I thought you were deceased, the others not so much, but then, you were always dead to me"

Bart reached into his coat ,but Ponty grabbed his arm." Whatever that is you are about to share with us ,I would think twice" from under his hat he pulled a small pistol. "I only need one shot. It should be no surprise to anyone I can pick off a peacock with this, a Stool Pidgeon though, would be a first."

"What do you mean by Stool Pidgeon" Bart was on the defensive now.

"People talk, I listen. Oh look, here they are .The proper authorities are here to take you in. FBI ? I thought so, Welcome to Rose Lake .There is quite the reward, I believe. What will I do with the monies? Hmmm ,I AM to be an Uncle of sorts, maybe the child  will need a new stuffed teddy bear ,a giraffe or a clown?" And with that they handcuffed Bart and led him away.... 

"What in Zeus's named just happened here?" I was baffled. Stan let out a sigh of relief, "Julius Pierpont Marvel ,did you just save our lives?"

Ponty laughed , "Oh god ,NO. Those G men had my back and my front and my... "Ponty !  Again what was happening...and just like that he was off in a flurry of feathers...

I turned to Stan, still unbelieving the events of the past few minutes.

He mustered a smile , "You Sir, were also very brave tonight .I am deeply touched by your regard for me, Jay. Always have been for a long, long time."

"How can you be so calm ,Stan?"

He held up his hand.

"Oh good Heavens , I am quite besides myself, but that would not be a favorable recall of situation now, would it?"

"But how, What? Bart ? Ponty ? The FBI?I was hopelessly confused at this point."

"There's a story to all of this " Stan began, but its merely corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative."

"STANLEY WOLF DID YOU JUST QUOTE THE MIKADO TO ME?"

So it seems New Years Eve would prove to be even memorable....

"Darling you will be late. The "Uncles" will be expecting you, Go along now , I will be perfectly fine". Sarah Leigh was propped up in bed at the Admiral Suite at the Grand Cocotier. "Look there ,I will be able to see the New Years fireworks over the lake from here." Reginald fussed, "I am conflicted about leaving you alone tonight, when things are very close to happening. What if you need a proper doctor?" Sarah sighed, "The staff is on high alert. I just need to ring and the Midwife will appear and the hotel has a staff doctor. Well, I could go to Peepsburgh and have our child at Major General Hospital."  Reginald sneered, " I will not have our child be born in an American hospital, for heavens sake. A midwife has delivered all the Downtownton's for generations . Our child will be no exception.  And why does that questionable English man have a Medical Facility named after him?  That Fishington cave explorer fellow is a Doctor of the ARTS, not a medical professional. Also, I am not not sure what that Marvel is a Professor of. Millinery? Is there such a thing. I have serious questions, my dear serious questions" Reginald grabbed his coat and hat." I will make an appearance nothing more, these fellows are far too friendly for my likening." He kissed her check and blustered out. " You can come out now" Sarah whispered. "Oh thank, Hatters he is gone" JP appeared out of the closet. "I have not been in one of those for years.. Are you ready to go to Major General Hospital in Peepsburgh?"

Sarah sighed, "Yes, I think it s near time"

"Reggie will be very angry with you", JP pulled Sarah's suitcase from under the bed.

Pish- Tush, Not as angry as I will be if I don not get this baby out of me toot-sweet. Julius , being a woman is not for the faint of heart". Sarah rolled herself out of bed.

JP helped he with her wrap. "So I have heard, my dear ,so I have heard"

Fishingtons account continued.....

"Major General Wolf , Doctor Fishington, greetings on this wonderful New Years Eve Celebration. Wish I could say the same for Europe." Reginald was quite disturbed by the onset of war. "Yes, its quite disturbing to say the least. If there is any way we can assist you and your family , please do not hesitate to ask." The Major shook his hand firmly. I did the same ,Downtownton was not an ally we could afford to lose. We retired to one of the balconies of the Bruin and ordered refreshments. Per usual , The Major wandered of to entertain the guests with Song and Story and I was stuck to entertain a very grumpy Englishman. I should say ANOTHER grumpy Englishman, as the Major could be a handful at any given moment...Sir Reginald seemed distracted, but It was not my place to ask. The impending birth of his heir I am sure was weighing heavy on his mind. "Sir Reginald , I hope your stay so far has been comfortable. We here at Rose Lake appreciate you contributions so far. Your engineering designs are flawless and I do hope you hope you will continue to bless us with your fine work". He gave me a Non-committal nod and quietly sipped his beverage. I found out later , British folks are most uncomfortable with complements ,so my conversation was backfiring, at best. 

Out of the corner of my eye ,I see Stan waving frantically in our direction. Dear Zeus ,what now? I excuse myself and met Stan downstairs. "What is with all the frantic waving of hands? More than usual ,I mean." This is not a parade, Stanley Wolf ,what is going on?" Stan gave me the stink-eye, "Oh are we not the humorous one tonight, best to grab Sir Reginald and head over to Peepsburgh and Major General Hospital. Seems his dear wife is having a baby"

"NOW" Of all the times....

" Hmmm, well... yes, possibly, I know nothing of birthing babies? Now be a dear and  go fetch Sir Reginald ,without too much fuss, of course. Meet me out back, I'll have the Bearcat waiting." Stan turned abruptly to leave.

"Stanley Wolf, YOU are not driving without your spectacles."

"Oh, dash it all then, you drive, I will navigate. I know all the shortcuts." 

"I do not need to be told where to go."

" I will bloody hell tell you where to go"

"Stanley Wolf , you give me grey hair."

"Better grey hair than no hair, I always say" He turned and disappeared into the crowd ... 

Happy New Year! The crowd shouted to us as we made our way to the Bearcat. "Wolf blast it all, where is your chauffeur?" Reginald was shocked to see the Major behind the wheel. "It's his night off, hop in everyone." I began to object, but Stan was having none of it. "Oh, just ride shotgun. You can yell if we are close to hitting anything important." We took off in a cloud of dust. Stan missed most things and I only had to grab the wheel once, alright maybe twice that night. Poor Reginald looked absolutely frightened, but that was the usual reaction from any of Stan's passengers.

"Where in the blazes are you taking me? Sarah is at the Hotel. I demand an answer!" He banged his fist on the seat.

"To Major General Hospital in Peepsburg" Stan shouted over his shoulder , trying to avoid a jackalope in the road. There was a bump.

" I do not think you missed ,it Stan" I shouted.

"Well, here's a howdy do..."

Another bump, "Did you just quote Mikado, AGAIN!"  Reginald grabbed my shoulder and shouted," Why does he have a hospital named after him? How much money does he have?"

"Its only a wing and its along story involving a chorus of nurses...Dear Zues, Hang on Sir Reginald this can be  a tight turn at slow speeds." I braced myself.

"BLODDY HELL , WOLF. Who taught you to drive? I cannot believe this country gave YOU a license!" Reginald grabbed the sides of the car, hanging on for dear life.

"Oh no, my good man".  Stan began, "They took that away years ago. Hang on we're almost there. Quick question, Jason. Are you still required to stop at a red light or is it only a suggestion?" 

SHE arrived at 2:00am Plancovania Central Time. "Agnes Rose Downtownton meet your father and of course, your uncles. " We stood around Sarah beaming. "My dear", Reginald began," You named our daughter after and Amusement Park?" He seemed overwhelmed at best, with all of this. "SHE could have named her after the song" JP piped up and sang under his breath, "Waltzing Mathilda, Waltzing Mathilda, you'll go a waltzing Matilda with me. And she sat as he sang, and he touched her with his billabong..."I elbowed him to stop that nonsense. Stan put in his oar, "Julius, that is not the lyrics to the song. I once did a show in Brisbane..."Dear Zeus, these two...  Sir Reginald seemed nonplussed. "Marvel" he said calmly. "We Downtowntons  are not and never been Australian. Heaven bless me she is a beautiful child."

"She favors her mother, I dare say" Stan fussed with his mustache nervously.

"A worthy heir to the Downtownton name." I added

"She looks Australian to me" This time I kicked Julius in the ankle.

"Owww..Well, come on gentlemen I think its time to leave the new mother and her child to rest. A celebratory drink and cigars are required post haste. I have some fine whiskey hidden in the Saloon for such an occasion." Julius grabbed my arm.

"Its an Ice Cream Shoppe now" I reminded him.

"You say poTATEo, I say PoTAtoe" JP rolled his eyes

"Wait a bit. Is that Moonshine Still actually working?" I couldnt be could it?

"I had no idea, I knew nothing about it. I wasn't there" Stan  wandered off noncommittal.

"Stanley Wolf, Stop quoting the Mikado"

The Hot Crossed Buns of Downtownton or and baby make three

 Dear Diary,

There wasn't a good scone to be found. Not here in Plancovania anyway. The cravings were strange at best. This pregnancy had already surprised Reginald, "My god dearest, how did this happen?" What do you mean , how did this happen? YOU were there! The night on the HMS Perambutalor ,the stars were out as we strolled the promenade deck. You told me, I quite fancy you. You said, "I'm off to Bedfordshire." THAT'S how it happened! You my dear, are a knob.  You best pull yourself together if you want to be a good father to this child. Traveling back to Waxbaxford is out of the question, till our child is born, so just add another string to your bow. NOW find me a buttered scone with clotted cream! ". I have never seen Reggie move that  fast... 

My favorite-- Scones with clotted cream

Dear Diary,

As much as I was missing my family terribly, the gentlemen at Rose Lake were bend over backward to assist me. It was terribly flattering and Reggie was having none of it. " What do they know about birthing a child?" He went off one day. " Nothing, I am sure of it, but they at least are trying to make me as feel comfortable as possible. Now go to your rubbish trucks and do what ever it is you do." I was only slightly out of sorts that day. He stopped a moment, "Sarah Leigh,  are sure this is what you want, to have our child born in America?"  I pursed my lips "I want a healthy child. THAT is all I want." Reginald nodded. "Right-o then, we'll stay and make the best of things. The Sanitation Company is taking off and monies are coming in to support this little nugget." As for your scones, I have commissioned a fellow to build us a bakery to supply Rose Lake with the Best British Baked Goods to be had this side of the pond. Since I am the Master of Waxbaxford , I shall call it Master Bakers and the scones named after you, my Sarah Leigh"

Some of the Master Bakers

Dear Diary,

JP Marvel was such the gallant gentleman. The new hats he had gifted to me were beyond description.  Even in my gravitas state, I felt beautiful. He is my closet confidant having no female friends here as of yet. My social calendar was quite limited these days. But he assured me once the child was born, I would be the toast of Peepsburgh. Staying in hotel had became tiresome, but the Major insisted as help would always be available from the women folk employed there.  He graciously offered rooms in his home Savoy Hall, once the child was born. Our own home, Watership Downs, was taking longer to finish with the war beginning and able bodied men in short supply. Mr. Fishington was himself painting a mural for the baby's room in the classic style I enjoyed . So all is well

In one of Marvel's amazing hats

Dear Diary,

This time in America has changed Reggie, He has become more soft spoken and understanding. The constraints of his privileged life were slowly fading away. It was a new start and I was glad of it. The babe was due any day ,according to the midwife, So I prepared best I could with what we had. The Rose Lake 'Uncles" as I called them would send lavish gifts daily, most inappropriate for such a young infant of either gender... The latest was a phonograph with 14 records of all the Major's Gilbert and Sullivan Operettas. That the child might appreciate the works of his or her fellow Englishman. Reggie was only slightly annoyed ,as I played my favorite of Pirates and sang along with the ensemble. "Must I hear the man rattle on even when he is NOT in the room", he blustered one day. "And that accent, just were is he from? He is quite evasive about it and I cannot seems to place it. Its all muddled, he uses the excuse of living here for many years.  AND how old is he? I have Questions, Sarah Leigh , I have questions!" 

Sketch of Watership Downs 

Sir Reginald's First Visit or Where were you when the British came through

 Let me introduce myself... 

Sir Reginald Downtownton

I am Sir Reginald Matthew Downtownton. 12th Baronet of WaxBaxford, and seems I am in a sticky-wicket. That Major General Wolf character, whose regional accent is quite peculiar, had charmed myself  into writing a check. The complimentary box seats for the premier revival of Pirates of Penzance at the Savoy, did not hurt either. That rogue of a Major,( I  use rogue in place of a more appropriate curse), was now off touring Europe in Pirates. He had nary sent word if the monies had been spend on a new trolley or something else entirely.  So it looked like a trip to Rose Lake was in order. 

Downtownton Manor, Basingstoke, WaxBaxford

The Basingstoke Railway and Sanitation company could do without my guidance for the interim.  My new wife, Lady Leigh will accompany  me on the New Steamer HMS. Perambulator, as its modern constructions and speed makes the long journey passably tolerable. So off we will go to the wilds of Plancovania to confront the Rose Lake Improvement Co. and Professor Fishington.

HMS Perambulator

The steamship travel was uneventful,  thankfully. We arrived in New York and promptly boarded the Plancovania Central Railroad to Peesburgh. A car would be waiting to transport us to the Grand Cocotier Hotel, where a Dr Fishington would greet us and ensconce us in the Admiral Suite.

Grand Cocotier Hotel

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

In true American fashion, something went wrong. Numerous times. I can vouch for the sincerest of apologies all round ,but good gracious, what a bungle it was. I will spare you the gross details of our endeavor as they are too many and of topsy-turvy in their nature. Finally in the Suite, which had a faint lingering smell in odd corners we could not identify, we chalked it up to the age of the establishment. 

Tomorrow would be an interesting day, as Dr Fishington said, he had an important discovery he wished to share with us. Little did I know how interesting it would be.

After a bit of confusion and meeting another co founder, (How many were there?) JP Marvel drove us in his Bearcat Coupe to Dr Fishington . An especially chatty and possibly daft hatter ,as he seemed to think we were from Australia. We met the Dr. at the front of his charming little park. The friendly attitude of everyone we met and the cleanliness of the public areas was impressive. I began to change my perception of this being a backwater. He introduced himself and offered an apology that the Major General himself was not here to greet us. He had been delayed in Florida with transporting a new animal for the Rose Lake Zoo. "You have a Zoo  I was shocked, but not truly surprised ." Well Sir, its still in its infancy ,not ready to open to public scrutiny just yet."

Mr Fishington seemed a bit evasive about the project, when I queried several other questions. He said the Major would dispel any doubts I had. I immediately knew to be wary...He gestured in to what seemed to be a gift shop. " The first stop on our tour" He smiled. I was not amused. "It seems trinkets and inexpensive fluff wont pay the bills, Good Sir" " Oh Sir Reginald , its not this shop, its what is underneath it" Leigh looked at me a bit alarmed, like she might have to crawl on her belly like a reptile, to get wherever we were going . She had already suffered Seasickness terribly, on the trip over.

" Good Sir, If you think for the moment a Downtownton  would crawl upon the ground,  you are very well mistaken" Mr Fishington looked at me and burst out laughing. I was incensed. As I turned to go he stopped my with these words. "We discovered a Cavern of the most amazing size and grandeur. A Tour will be given for a modest fee , so people may experience a new wonder of the modern world. This in itself will save Rose Lake from the debt of the Great Depression, I have no doubt." I want to give you and your Lady a personal tour.

The ingenuity of Americans never ceased to amaze me.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that

Well, dear readers, Wolf the 4th here. Buried under papers and pictures of the grand re-opening weekend of Rose Lake Park circa 1911. Yes, yes, yes, Its practically been a year. I have a real job which takes far too much of my time. 

I do have a few pictures to share with some of my Grandfather's notes scribble on the back. He never cared for reviews, "Merely corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative" What? Only then did I realize the MG would quote dialogue from his operettas, claiming it as his own. Most folks were none the wiser. He was really the sly dog...

 I believe this was the opening show at the Swan. Miss Edna Mae Sr's  All American boys Glee Club backing the famous Rose Lake Barbershop Quartet the " Firehouse Four". 

What's that you say? The Major did not open the show himself? What could have prevented that from happening... Possibly this?

 An all new production was being mounted and D'Oyly Carte's Lead patterman was out of commission. The Major sailed to London on the next boat to save the day, well, at least the show, as an understudy was certainly out of the question. He was only to be gone a relatively short time, to return the next Spring. On the maiden voyage of a brand new luxury steam liner called Titanic... 

That tale will be for another time, as I have so many photos to get through.

Now, where was I...

An aerial view of the park from a hired hot air balloon. The note pasted on the back says," The Founders enjoyed a lovely flight high above Rose Lake" and a scribble underneath says, "NO, I DID NOT" ...MG.... 

Ah ,as always, Grandad had to get the last word in...

Here is one of the infamous "Flip the Wig" a new looping coaster. Seems it created more injuries than excitement.

 And why is it called that ,I wondered..

Well, it seems Professor Marvel was hiding something under all those hats.. his lack of hair!

This photo was uncovered in the back room of the original saloon. His signature was on the reverse but, not sure what happen to the lower half.. A question for the ages, I suppose.

Jackalope Two

A better ride than the original, so the first riders raved about in the various newspaper accounts. Contrary to popular belief, no one was paid to say that.. 

At least that's what the court transcripts say from the allegation trial of Bart Tete De Taureau. Why that is included in with all of this stuff, I am not sure. 

A official portrait I found. Not taken by a police or federal agents for a line up...

The Haunted Swing

Another new ride invented and built by Amariah Lake. One of the first in the country.  The illusion of turning upside down was so great, many got ill to their stomachs. Which it seems, the janitorial staff did not appreciate too kindly. 

Two months of mayhem

Well, dear readers, you may think, "what the heck has happened". In a nutshell, with the sudden but not unexpected, demise of Mabel, Mabel the trunks, boxes, cartons and rooms filled with Rose Lake Park history and memorabilia have remained untouched.

 "What horror", you say, yes indeed it is. Let me explain.

My name is Stanley Stephen Wolf  IV. I am the great grandson of the Major himself. "But how?" you exclaim. "Wasn't the Major a confirmed old bachelor and certainly not a family man in the grand scheme of things?" "Were there not rumors for years about his various dalliance's with questionable gentleman ?" "And certainly his long relationship with Professor Fishington merited some  scrutiny?" "How can you be his relative by blood?"

Yes ,Yes, Yes ,to all of this.

Let's go back to my great grandfathers well spent youth. Certainly to maintain  a career as one of the, if not THE  greatest Gilbert and Sullivan Pattermen in a long line of greats, was an accomplishment indeed. Along with that , designing with his partner Fishington and several other gentleman of dubious heritage and connections, Rose Lake Park. Fishy. as my grandfather affectionately called him, was the rock to my grandfathers zany schemes and outlandish plans. Often putting the brakes on plans for show extravaganzas to be performed in the park and starring himself.(I have in my possession a  rough draft of a show call "Mikado On Ice". Which involved an frozen artificial indoor lake, a snow making machine and a entire chorus ensemble of ice skating samurai)

BUT, I digress...

There was one woman in the Major's life that he was very fond of.

Her name was Alice Dixie. She was Josephine in a HMS Pinafore to his Sir Joseph Porter. A romance was cooked up by the producers to boost tickets sales. But, there was much more to the story. How do I know this? The Major's private journals. Much of which was used for his autobiography.

There was some judicious editing of course, to make the work suitable for the unenlightened masses. No mention is made in it's pages of a child. But there was, born out of wedlock and hidden way from society. A son, born to Alice Dixie. Stanley Stephen Wolf  II. My fraternal grandfather. That one night encounter produced an heir to the Wolf name and the Wolf fortune. Something my great grandfather never was privy too until much later in his life.

But dear readers, that is a story for another time. I have the only complete copy of his book, plus the journals ,of course. So next time, we'll backtrack to about 1910 after the great Rose Lake Fire and show you some of the amazing things the Major and Fishington were able to accomplish in a short 10 years.

Ashes to ashes.

Strange that there were more pictures of the actual fire than of the aftermath, but we did find a couple.

Obviously the great fire of 1910 was not the end of the Rose Lake Park story, by far.  On one hand, how could the park still be standing today?   And on the other hand, why would I have wasted the last 5 months of my life documenting something that went up in smoke 110 years ago?  Remarkably, photos show that the park grew more between the years of 1910 and 1919 than in the two decades prior, combined.   While each of the founders have been demonstrated to have amassed significant wealth in their young careers, this particular article is noteworthy for possibly explaining such a quick recovery.

Looking back into our file on Bartholomew Tete de Taureau, none of this is surprising.  Although now we must wonder the degree to which co-founders Jason Fishington and Stanley Wolf were involved in the nefarious dealings of Taureau's seedy mafia undertakings.  Further, what else were these men willing to do to create their little lakeside empire as the years went on?   Were the other co-founders involved as well?  I mean, one of them even looks like a bear.

And certainly beloved Professor JP Marvel knew nothing of any of this, what between designing his hats, eating Edna Mae Jr's delicious pies, and "excercising" regularly in the cloak room of the Grand Cocotier, how could he have found the time?

The Founders aren't the only things that are 'flaming'!

We now come to a real turning point for Rose Lake Park (and not just the end of the catwalk for one of Prof. Marvel's infamous headwear collection fashion shows...).  Will this be the end of Rose Lake Park?   (Insert appropriate musical "dim-dum-DUUUUUM!" here)  

 Inquiring minds will want to know!

 We found some old photos of the fire, had them restored and colorized...

 Nothing like sitting with your sweetie watching the flames with a jug of wine...or two.  I swear these two were there the day before and haven't moved...

 Stay tuned for the next exciting chapter of "Rose Lake - As The Stomach Turns"...

A Most Magnificent Millinerist

At long last today is the day that all 8 of you, or perhaps none of you, have been waiting for.  I sent Bob on an errand into town to find me a new corkscrew (and I'm hoping it's one of those newfangled electronic ones, I'm quite sure we have money in the budget for that.  And if not I think we can use one of Mabel Mabel's Gofundme accounts as we never did get around to getting her that birthday cake or paying for her hospital bills.)

But it really wasn't about the corkscrew at all, I just needed to get Bob out of the way so that I could finally post some scans pertaining to legendary Professor JP Marvel, who as they say popped out of the womb and before the midwife could slap his ass, he promptly slapped her first and then proceeded to criticize her choice in headwear.  

Bob likes to call my interest in Professor Marvel as "an unhealthy obsession bordering on deeply psychotic behavior," however I prefer to refer to it as "great minds thinking alike."  The professor and I both seem to share a desire for beauty in all shapes in sizes, and all corners of the world.  Starting with one's own head.

Worth noting that many of the items used in the construction of Marvel's creations were bore of necessity, as he was a master of using the limited resources about him at Rose Lake to incorporate them into his fantastic hattery.

A couple of those pages came from my Professor Marvel's 1902 Catalog, which Mabel Mabel herself showed up with just the other day.  (She looks good, and has even lost some noticeable weight, can't be an ounce over 60 lbs.)  She apologized for removing the catalog from the archive, as apparently her new "beau" as she calls him does enjoy it when she re-creates the fashions and dances about the room singing "Zou Zou Bisou" and at this point I interrupted her and changed the subject.

TMI, Mabel.  TMI.

A Couple of Clippings

Probably mostly inconsequential to the story of Rose Lake Park, but at least the park is mentioned in these items, and the bottom article makes reference to our favorite full sized figure, Ms. Edna Mae Sr.  Much like her daughters' obsession with pie and unlike much of her clientele, we just can't get enough of her.

Who knew miss Edna Mae was such the humanitarian?  I love that we keep learning so much more about her and her ginormous generosity, as it has become quite clear that Rose Lake could have never arisen to such a capacious success without her.  I do hope she remains firmly impregnated into this story for many years to come.

The Telling Tale of Francis Lloyd Tradesman

I'm very excited today, as after a great deal of backstory on Professor JP Marvel we are now ready to showcase some pages from  his actual biography, which I've had sitting off to the side for the entirety of this adventure.

"No," said Bob.  "I think we've spent enough time on Professor Marvel.  There are six other founders whom you've practically ignored.  Let's do this one," and with that handed me an entirely different publication altogether.

"Francis Lloyd Tradesman?  Who's that?  We haven't heard from him at all so far,"

"He's one of the seven founders, and he contributed greatly to the park.  He's the reason they called this place the Plancovania Coney Island."

"I've never heard it called that before," said me, at which point Bob shoved me aside from the keyboard and started scanning the pages.

The "Jerkin Hymoff nuptials?"   Now I'm quite certain that Bob is making most of this up.

The Un-petite Fairy.

No, the title of this entry is not a reference to Professor Marvel and his peculiar penchant for pie.  I do hope that as we move along with this story we learn that he eventually kicked that disgusting habit and slimmed down to the svelte build we saw earlier, but obviously that would require me to skip ahead in the research and I have no intentions of doing so.

Speaking of pie, Bob had the great idea of painting the main level of the Historical Society in a color that he felt was quite symbolic for the area in which we live, "Boobieberry Burgundy."  It's really more of a purple than a burgundy, but not really a shade of purple I can say as I've ever seen before... in fact it's somewhat nauseating.  Between that and the paint fumes, I really haven't felt well enough to enter the premises for the last few days so Bob has volunteered to start writing some of these entries based on his most recent perusals of Mabel Mabel's briefs.   I'd like to make a naughty joke there but the headache from these paint fumes has rendered me quite humorless.

"But what was your excuse before we started painting?" asked Bob.   "Pfft," said me.

----------------------------------------------------

A great event is to take place! The famous Professor Baldwin is visiting Rose Lake Park and will not only rise to record-breaking heights in his balloon, but he will then plummet to Earth with a parachute (and hopefully remember to open it on the way down...)

There's even a popular song written about the daring Baldwin!

As part of the festivities Rose Lake Park's Prof. Jason Fishington and Major-General Stanley Wolf recreate their historic aerial exploration and discovery of Rose Lake (they actually discovered an unnamed lake with seasonal fishing cabins and cheap real estate prices, but that's besides the point - they DID name the lake...) In the photo Prof. Fishington steers the balloon while the Major General clings to the sides of the basket, desperately looking for an open area where he can be sick without coating the spectators below. He failed to do so...

At the photography studio on the Midway one could pose in a stationary basket and appear to be flying high above the clouds just like Fishington and Wolf. For only $1.00 your handsome 8X10 black and white portrait will be available for pickup in two weeks, framing extra. What a splendid souvenir! Show all your friends, family and co-workers what a daredevil you really are!

If even the thought of posing in a stationary balloon basket on Terra Firma makes your nose bleed, then be sure to view the Amazing Miss Nellie DeVaughn, "The Flexible Marvel", assisted by La Petite fairy, who does something or other while all eyes are focused on how many toes Miss Nellie can cram into her mouth with her foot over her shoulder...maybe she's there to keep the kids quiet or to pick pockets, I'm not really sure, but I heard Maj-Gen Wolf asking is he could borrow her Fairy costume later...his was in the wash.
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Rather seems that Bob had a little fun with this write-up, even going so far as to make it sound like he was actually there when these photos were taken.  He claimed that all of the text was found in accompanying documents with the photos, but honestly I think he's been googling for period-appropriate photos on the internet and then making everything up.  It almost makes me wonder if he's been doing this all along?

I suppose I could sit at the computer and fact-check but honestly all of this talk about "burgundy" has made me thirsty.  Now where did I leave that corkscrew?

The Forbidden Fruit and a Filthy Fetish

Sifting through several bags of mis-labeled, out of sequence, and uncategorized photos and documents, Bob and I have noticed a disturbing trend in the appearance of Professor JP Marvel.  Well, disturbing to me at least; Bob seems to be unable to stop with the hysterical laughter.

In a series of photos that we're quite certain were taken somewhere in the early 1910 timeframe, it seems that our favorite (ok, MY favorite) historical hat-maker grew somewhat larger than the other founders.  Not exactly Edna-esque in size (although both of our favorite Edna's do tie into this story), but he had certainly become a man with a more rubust silhouette.  And probably a couple of busts themselves.  We followed the trail back in time and it appears this newfound stature of his was first documented in this photo:

"He could stick a four course meal on that hip and still have both hands free to hold a knife and fork," said Bob.   Bob is not wrong in this observation.

I mean, honestly it doesn't even look like him.  I wouldn't have even though it the same person, but Bob was able to remove all the water damage and restore the handwritten caption on the photo's backside:  "Prof. Marvel, Plancovania Fireman's Ball, La Grande Aubergine, 1909."

What's this?  He could sketch photo-realistic scenes, design fabulous headwear, AND fight fires?  Well, no.  As it turns out he was not a fireman at all.  But the story starts much earlier than that, with a tiny shack on the nearby peninsula across from Loggertown where Edna's boarding house conducted "operations."  (Bob asked me to put "operations" into air quotes, so I did.)

And it actually goes back much further than that, to the childhood of Miss Edna Mae Jr. herself, near the turn of the century before the park was even founded.  It seems (and don't ask how we learned this story, we were on a mission) that as a wee lass (her mama said she was never really a wee lass) that Little Edna would spend her days in the fields frolicking amongst some fruity shrubs, staining her clothes and eventually her face, as the berries they bore were quite tasty.  Her mama told her they were called boobieberries.  Little Edna and her purple stained face eventually took to bringing them home with her in the afternoons, and Mother made them into pies that they would have for dinner.  "If it's good enough for dessert, it's good enough for dinner.  And sometimes breakfast," Mama Mae would say, so often in fact that they eventually carved the phrase on her tombstone.

It wasn't long before Little Edna learned to make the pies herself, often taking them to the schoolhouse with her to give to all the boys in the yard.  They liked her pie so much that they begged her to bring more each day, anxiously waiting for her along the path because the pie was so good that they couldn't even wait for lunch.  Allegedly she even had a little song about it as she skipped home each day, to the effect of "My pie brings all the boys to the yard, that's right..." or something like that.

Mother Edna was so impressed by this that she told her daughter she should start charging money for her famous pie.  Little Edna was so excited by the idea of being a real business woman like her ma that she begged to let her sell them in the boarding house.  "There's enough pie floating around in that place already, baby.  We'll see what we can do for you when you're older."

And that's what she did.  On her thirteenth birthday, Mama put a blindfold on Little Edna and led her across the footbridge to the wooded empty peninsula across from the camp, and when the blindfold came off her daughter could not believe her eyes and squealed with delight:  A modest structure to be sure, but the words "Little Edna's Pie Hole" were right there in great big letters.

Not only did Little Edna have her own business, but she no longer had to go to school each day because really, school was just Mama's way of getting her out of the house for a few hours while she went to work.

Well, this brings us to the summer of 1909, when a certain Professor Marvel was out and about on his weekly walk and stumbled upon the shack he had not noticed previously, and he look up to see Little Edna Mae Jr. standing upon the porch with her pie in the breeze, hoping to attract some business.  An excellent business plan, as the professor took one taste of that pie and he was hooked.

(We comissioned an artist to render a drawing of this historic event.  Little Edna was known for her red dresses as they seemed to conceal the boobieberry stains.  And while the professor may appear to have white hair in this portrait, that is actually the sun glaring off of the back of his now balding head.  The professor was said to believe his premature hair loss was caused by the massive weight of the hefty hats that he wore.  This theory does not explain why none of the women who sported his creations suffered any hair loss of their own.  Profound neck and severe back pain, but not hair loss.)

Those weekly walks over the footbridge turned into daily walks, and not just once per day.  Modern day park goers to Rose Lake know that "Little Edna's Big Gaping Pie Hole" obviously survived it's startup status and remains in operations to this day (thankfully not in that same tiny shack), mostly due to the frequent trips made by the Professor during those early days of operation.

But back to the (lengthy!) story.  In the autumn of 1909 the Plancovania Fire Department held their annual ball in the Grand Aubergine Ballroom at the Grand Cocotier Hotel, by which time Professor Marvels' waistline had become rather grand itself.  Before his addiction Professor Marvel had been in training to actually apply as a fire-fighting volunteer, partly because he knew the park would eventually need someone of such a skillset, and partly because he really wanted to wear the shiny hats.  He suited up for the soiree (dress for the job you want, they say) in hopes of impressing the fire chief, Captain BJ Hornblower.

(photo taken from a subsequent ball, as Rose Lake did not have a fire department in 1909 and all attendees were members of the Perseverence Fire Company in Peepsburgh)

(captain Hornblower himself, standing next to a horn.)

The story goes that Hornblower was not at all interested in the advances of Professor Marvel, not so politely shooing him aside as he was rather starstruck by local celebrity Major General Stanley Wolf and followed him around all evening like a lost puppy, continuously offering to demonstrate his impressive hornblowing skills.  The Major General himself was preoccupied with several firemen of a younger variety, and both Captain Hornblower and Professor Marvel went home that evening alone and forlorn.

This experience of course, did nothing to curb the Professor's appetite for Little Edna Mae Jr's. perfectly precarious pie.

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"What's with all the alliteration?" Bob asked me while proofreading this story.
"What?" asked me.