September 18, 2014 § 1 Comment
In a post entitled “Classics in a Classy House” that I wrote in June, 2012, I noted that both Susan and Frank Lloyd Wright followed the popular trend of their day by displaying replicas of classic statuary in their homes. These statues demonstrated that the home owner was cultured and appreciated fine art. In Susan’s case, they undoubtedly were also an indication that she had seen the originals on her trips to Europe.
I just returned from Europe and was fortunate enough to visit the Louvre in Paris for the first time. There I saw “Winged Victory” and “Venus de Milo.” I was overwhelmed. My first thought was that the statues in the Dana-Thomas House cannot begin to convey the scale, majesty, or beauty of either figure. Yet Susan tried to capture her memories and share them with her American friends through the replicas.
Then I did a very twenty-first century thing. I had my friend take a picture of me with “Venus de Milo.” Now that I am home and looking at the photos from the trip, I realize that despite the technology of today, we still can’t convey through images the experience of seeing great masterpieces in person. Nevertheless, like Susan, I am going to try to share my memories with you. I hope that if you have not already done so, you too will get the opportunity to see these original magnificent masterpieces. Meanwhile, enjoy the reflections of the memories of Susan and me.
August 5, 2014 § 2 Comments
In a post I wrote last December, I referred to Susan’s belief that ties with the deceased were not severed at death, and she could communicate with them through spiritualism (Click here to read the post). I elaborate in Chapter 8 of Susan Lawrence: The Enigma in the Wright House:
[Susan] was not alone. The supernatural permeated America at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries, and women at the top of the social and economic ladders were the most active participants. At its peak at the turn of the century, spiritualism had over 10 million followers. The National spiritualist Association of America (NSAA) defines spiritualism as “the science, philosophy and religion of continuous life, based upon the demonstrated fact of communication, by means of mediumship, with those who live in the Spirit World.” The mediums intervene in a variety of ways either through verbal or physical manifestations.
Not everyone of that era accepted spiritualism. Most notably, Harry Houdini, the great illusionist, spent the last years of his life vehemently debunking the work of psychics and mediums. He unveiled hoaxes time and again.
Since my husband Carl passed away last October, I have given this phenomenon a lot of thought and have come to the conclusion that both Susan and Houdini were right. I believe as Susan did that ties with the deceased are not severed at death, but like Houdini, I do not believe that we can initiate communications with our loved ones even with the aid of a medium. Rather, our loved ones come to us when they choose.
I base my conclusion on some personal experiences I’ve had these past months, stories friends have shared, and Houdini’s last “show.” Houdini’s widow Bess held a séance each year on the anniversary of his death in an attempt to connect with him. On the tenth death anniversary, the séance was broadcast on the radio world-wide. A medium attempted to get a message from Houdini for over an hour, and finally Bess proclaimed that she was finished trying to reach him. She bid him good-by. As the program went off the air, a violent but extremely localized thunderstorm broke out. It only occurred over the building that housed the radio station. There was no rain, thunder, or lightning in any other part of town. (Click here for Houdini’s story)
June 22, 2014 § 1 Comment
Recently I was fortunate to see the stage production “War Horse” based on the novel of the same name by Michael Morpurgo. I had seen Steven Spielberg’s film interpretation of the story earlier, but the stage drama brought the realities of the First World War closer to me than anything else I have experienced. Although the drama personalizes the effects of the War on British, French, and German citizens, I found myself recalling Susan’s reactions to America’s participation in that conflict.
In Chapter 14 of Susan Lawrence: The Enigma in the Wright House I quote from a letter which Susan sent to Anna Lloyd Jones Wright, Frank Lloyd Wright’s mother in 1917:
I am so wrought up over this dreadful war I can hardly settle myself to do anything. I am helping in every way that I possibly can, but it does not seem right for us to lend ourselves to wholesale murder. What good can possibly come to us in the sacrifice of the flower of the young manhood of the world? I can see none that will ever compensate for the loss.
Susan lived through three wars. She was born during the Civil War (1862), did her patriotic part in the First World War (see earlier post “State Fair Chips”), and died just after the close of the Second World War (1946). I was a child during the Second World War and have lived through Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. As I write this, our nation’s leaders are debating renewed involvement in Iraq. To me, Susan’s statement is as valid as it was 100 years ago. I must ask myself the same question she asked, “What good could possibly come to us?”
May 19, 2014 § 3 Comments
Once more I am following in Susan’s footsteps. I have been asked to give a presentation next week at Grace Lutheran Church where I am a member. Coincidentally, I discovered that Susan gave several programs at Grace in the latter years of the 19th century.
The current building at Seventh and Capitol Streets in Springfield was dedicated in 1893. Because of its many modern conveniences, the 400 seat “lecture hall” adjoining the sanctuary was used by many community organizations. Among those was the Woman’s Club of Springfield formed in 1894. Susan (then Mrs. E. W. Dana) was a charter and very active member of the Club. In Chapter Three of Susan Lawrence, The Enigma in the Wright House I describe her involvement:
[She] designed the member pin, chose the organizational colors (pink and green) and flower (rose), and wrote the motto: “There is no knowledge that is not power.” She served in several leadership positions. As chair of the Art Department, she developed programming in which she, other members, or guests delivered papers on various art related topics which ranged from the aesthetic (“Ancient Art”) to the practical (“ How to Hang a Picture”).
Evidently Susan frequently presented lectures at meetings of the entire Club and Departments other than the Art Department. One presentation was documented in the January 3, 1896, Illinois State Register and the Woman’s Club Minutes. The newspaper announced: “The Home and Domestic Department of the Woman’s Club will meet this afternoon at Grace Lutheran Church at 2:30 pm. The church will be heated.” The general topic was “Our Children,” and Susan spoke on “Children in the Home.” The Woman’s Club Minutes recorded this summary of Susan’s remarks:
[Susan] told how often mothers in attempting to show love for their children made slaves of themselves,–and tyrants of the little ones. They should be taught self-control and to respect the rights of others–Every child has a right to a happy childhood and the mother must often sacrifice her personal feeling. She concluded by saying that a truly loving mother, must love all childhood.
Since Susan had no children, one can only imagine the negative reactions of the mothers in her audience. I feel confident that when I speak in the same space where Susan presented, my audience will be more receptive because my topic will be “Susan Lawrence Dana and Grace Lutheran Church.”
April 25, 2014 § 6 Comments
While in New Orleans, I discovered that Susan spent a good deal of time in the Big Easy and was evidently very socially active there. One of her visits was announced in the January 9, 1910, Daily Picayune :
Mrs. Susie Lawrence Dana of Springfield, Il., is spending a short time in New Orleans and after a short stay at the St. Charles Hotel, is the guest of her cousins, Mrs. George Halbert and Mrs. J. M. Latimer, 1511 Polymnia.
I couldn’t resist investigating, and, thanks to the helpful staff of the New Orleans Public Library, I discovered that Susan’s cousin’s home is still standing on a shady New Orleans street. Of course, I got a picture to share with you.
The fate of the St Charles Hotel was not as positive. An urban shopping/office mall looms on the spot where the hotel once stood. However, I did discover that it was an elegant place to stay in 1910. Click here to read the fascinating history of the New Orleans St. Charles Hotel.
The news story that reveals most about Susan’s relationship with New Orleans was in the May 26, 1912, society column of the Daily Picayune. It read:
Cards have been received by friends in New Orleans announcing the marriage of Mrs. Susan Lawrence Dana to Mr. Lawrence Joergen-Dahl, on Tuesday, March 19, in Philadelphia, Pa. [For details, see Chapter 10 of Susan Lawrence: The Enigma in the Wright House] At home after the 1st of December, Lawrence House, 327 East Lawrence Avenue, Springfield, Ill. The bride, who has visited New Orleans a number of times, is the cousin of Mrs. George Halbert, Mrs. J.M. Latimer and Mrs. Elizabeth McAllister White. She is a very charming and cultured woman, and has traveled extensively in this country and abroad. Mr. and Mrs. Joergen-Dahl are traveling in Europe for the summer and will on their return go to Indianapolis, the latter’s home since her childhood. During her different visits to New Orleans the bride made a number of friends who will be greatly interested in the announcement of her marriage.
We can draw two conclusions from this story. First, no proof reader at the Daily Picayune checked the reporter’s work. If one had, Susan would not have been moved from Springfield to Indianapolis by the end of the paragraph. Second, Susan certainly made an impression on New Orleans society.
April 12, 2014 § 4 Comments
In Chapter 3 of Susan Lawrence: The Enigma in the Wright House I wrote:
Easy travel was a relatively new concept in the 1890s. At the beginning of the 19th century, rivers, canals, and horse-drawn coaches were the primary modes of transportation in America. The emergence of the train provided speed and the ability to travel regardless of the weather. With the addition of Pullman’s sleeping cars and the new concept of dining cars, those who could afford it moved from one city to another in luxury…The Lawrence/Dana family took advantage of the convenient and comfortable way to travel the country…In February of 1895, Susie, her mother, and [her husband] Edwin attended the Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
This 1895 trip to New Orleans by Susan was the first of several that I found reported in newspaper articles or letters. Her cousin, Mrs. George (Mary) Halbert, lived in the Crescent City. In March of 1900, for example, Susan and her mother escaped to New Orleans from a severe Springfield winter. George Halbert died in June of 1918, and Susan spent a month in her cousin’s New Orleans home before bringing the widow back to Springfield for another month of recovery. Each of the trips was by trains with what were then the modern conveniences of Pullman sleepers and dining cars. I plan to make that same train trip this week. The Amtrak train that I will be riding will follow the route that Susan’s trains took and will also provide sleeping and dining accommodations (with contemporary amenities, I assume). I don’t often get the chance to re-live one of Susan’s life experiences, so I look forward to the 17 hour journey.
One essential thing will be different. When we arrive in New Orleans, sadly I will not disembark into a Louis Sullivan designed train station as Susan did. Completed in 1892, New Orleans Union Station was the only train station Sullivan designed. Historians say that Frank Lloyd Wright, then Sullivan’s head draftsman, was involved in the final work on the building. Sullivan’s New Orleans Union Station was demolished in 1954 and replaced with the New Orleans Passenger Terminal where I will arrive. After re-tracing Susan’s steps for almost a day, I will be thrust back abruptly into my contemporary world in this modern building. I’ll try to adjust.
April 6, 2014 § 4 Comments
It’s been a month since I wrote my last post (see “Moving On”) on this blog, and I’ve missed it. I found that I cannot escape the call of history. Many of you have encouraged me to continue writing, and Susan and her house keep popping up into my life. I have decided that the story of Susan and her house and the current management of that house are two different issues. I have no problems with the former, and I am in no position to change the latter. Consequently, I plan to continue to share with you my discoveries and observations without the inspiration gleaned from leading tours through the house.
An article I read in the March 10, 2014, issue of The New Yorker magazine is an example of how Susan and the house keep intersecting my life. In an earlier post I discussed how 1902 workers might have moved the cottage on Susan’s property across the railroad tracks to its current location (click here). In the same post I wondered how movers were going to transport an entire Frank Lloyd Wright designed house 1,300 miles as reported in the New York Times. I found the answer to that question in the New Yorker article.
Since 1988 Sharon and Lawrence Tarantino owned and restored the Wright designed Bachman Wilson home on the shores of the Millstone River in New Jersey. When frequent flooding threatened the 1954 Usonian home, the couple sought a buyer who would move the house to a new site. The Crystal Bridges Museum of America in Bentonville, Arkansas, agreed to purchase the house and to place it in the beautiful natural surroundings of the museum. To move the house, Sharon, a designer, and her architect husband Lawrence first removed all the furniture, both free standing and built-in. Then they created a dismantling plan. They spent this past winter painstakingly numbering components of the structure. This spring the house will be dismantled, and the components will be bundled, placed on three tractor trailers, and driven from New Jersey to Arkansas. There the house will be reconstructed following the Tarantino’s plan. To read the complete story, click here.
If I can draw one conclusion from all of this, it is that moving on, beyond, across the tracks, and across country are all extremely complicated.