Jamie Davis Writes

Where Sick Folks Get Well

I have a special place in my heart for The 1886 Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I have started researching a chapter to be included in America’s Most Haunted Hotels. When Norman Baker (who was NOT a doctor) turned the old hotel into a cancer hospital, he allegedly used the “Where Sick Folks Get Well” pamphlet to lure unsuspecting patients to the hospital so he could “reap one million dollars out of the suckers in the state.” The pamphlet is said to be the key piece of evidence of mail fraud that led to his 1941 – 1944 sentence in Leavenworth.

It is a fascinating piece of marketing literature, and I got hold of a copy. It is attached for your reading pleasure.

Where Sick Folks Get Well Pamphlet

April 14, 2014 0

Death Valley National Park

Faced with all that Las Vegas had to offer (insert sarcasm), Bob and I decided we preferred the desert. The morning was spent in the car heading out of Vegas to Death Valley National Park. This is the only park I’ve ever visited where an entire page of the Visitor’s Paper is devoted to a section entitled “Survive!” We were perhaps not exactly equipped for an entire day in Death Valley. We had a nice drive and Bob got some great photos of the park. We walked across Badwater Salt Flat, the lowest place in the western hemisphere, and called it a day.

I knew the famous Amargosa Opera House and Hotel was in nearby Death Valley Junction, and that they had a café that I was looking forward to patronizing.

Amargosa Opera House and Hotel

The café was about what you would expect it to be out in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to go take a peek back in the kitchen to see if I could spot Odd Thomas (who is both my favorite short order cook and Deen Koontz character). Our waitress was an interesting character herself. For one thing, she had her right arm all slinged up because of carpal tunnel that had manifested itself after much griddle cooking. In addition to being a mother of three small children and working at the café, she is also the town’s Fire Chief.

We tried to stay overnight, but the young lady working the front desk assured us that there were no vacancies. An older gentleman passed us on the dirt driveway and inquired about our current state of affairs. We assured him we were doing just fine and posed the question back at him. He said he was “Tolerable. Now, tolerable covers a multitude of sins.” We thought this was just about the best response to a “How are you?” that we had ever heard. Before I could ask him just what sins, exactly, he was guilty of, he was gone.

There has been quite a bit of media attention addressing “Spooky Hollow” over in the old section of the hotel that hasn’t been refurbished. I understand that Pacific Borax built the town for its miners in the early 1920’s, and the hotel housed them. The building also contained a hospital and morgue. Since we weren’t officially investigating or spending the night, I don’t have any paranormal tales of my own to share.

The stop was more interesting to me because of Marta Becket’s story. In 1967, a flat tire brought her here. While the tire was being repaired, she wondered around the complex and peered into the old abandoned theatre. Marta was a dancer from New York City and she was immediately moved by the building and knew she would spend her life here. I am fascinated by her story of being pulled to a place that was so drastically different from the place she knew before as home.

It was her dream. This place, out in the middle of nowhere. She chose her life and by all accounts loved it. Maybe it doesn’t look like a picture of success for you, and that’s okay. It doesn’t have to. Each individual striving to live their life in their own way is what success is. That’s it. To focus on anything else is to be distracted from the purpose and will keep you from staying on the right path.

That’s my thought from the desert. Oh, and Bob said to mention how quiet it was. He was sitting outside the opera house on one of those benches while I strolled around snapping pictures. He said he could hear the gravel crunch under my feet from a hundred yards away. Sweet sounds of isolation.

As always, we log and index our adventures inside our “Play” Journal, by Stealth Journals. “Play” is an indexed book journal that should be used to record all of your good times.

Floating

A quick budget weekend getaway close to our hometown of Savannah, Georgia was in order. We settled on Sapelo Island, one of Georgia’s barrier islands. We knew it would be a peaceful retreat because the island has a population of just seventy.

I had just left my day job when my boyfriend Bob suggested that maybe we should head out of town. My mental state was generally stable, although some moments of sheer panic and a sense of being lost floating around aimlessly in the world were starting to creep in whenever I sat still for too long.

We arrived at the Meridian Dock on a Friday morning around 7:15 a.m. We were early enough to watch the island schoolchildren disembark from the ferry. I watched a handful of them bounce off the boat and onto the awaiting school bus, laughing at God only knows what but having the best time. Fresh and shiny and hopeful for the new day. It was a priceless peek into what innocent human lives look like. I began to remember who I was. For the longest time, I had defined myself by my job and the income I generated. A friend once asked me who I would be without my job and I couldn’t answer.

The waiting area to board the ferry is a small building with concrete floors and some benches. We passed the time with one other passenger – a farmer from north Georgia whose ties to the island stemmed from his mother being born there. He shared a story about his grandfather quitting his job as Island Manager after a few short weeks of working for Mr. R.J. Reynolds, the great tobacco heir, who had recently purchased the island in 1934 from Mr. Howard Coffin. The grandfather was on board a barge that he claimed R.J. had paid some goons to sink for the insurance company. Unbeknownst to him of course, and he stayed on board that ship for two days with the other two crew members and worked to keep that barge afloat. His reward? R.J. cussed him out for saving the barge, so he quit on the spot. Then my new friend cracked wise with a lawyer joke and further endeared himself to me.

We paid our $5.00 round trip ferry fee and were on our way. We rented realtor Lucy Lea’s upstairs apartment and she had left The Beast for us at the dock. The old hunter green Jeep Cherokee had the key in its ignition and though somewhat muddy and a little rusted, seemed perfectly willing to haul us around. She would later prove her worth when I braced myself in a Spiderman stance inside the car as Bob navigated a very muddy and pothole filled road to Cabretta Beach. We did not tip and we did not get stuck. The Beast never faltered.

Lucy’s apartment had a very handy way of getting luggage upstairs:

I wish I had a pulley system at my apartment.

Cabretta Beach was the wild and out of control cousin. Cabretta was desolate and intriguing, with interesting features, but not exactly what you would call pretty.

Cabretta Beach - Sapelo Island — ***Cabretta Beach – Sapelo Island***

It certainly was the most isolated beach I have ever visited. We did not see a soul and we went on both days we were on the island. We were okay with being alone in the world.

The last time, on our way back, I noticed what appeared to be drawings in the sand of trees. I don’t know what could have made them, but there was a section of beach that was covered with the drawings.

The Hog Hammock community on Sapelo is comprised of many descendants of slaves that stayed on the island after the Civil War to preserve their Gullah-Geechee culture. Today, there are a few old home places still standing, complete with peeling Haint Blue paint. The color was believed to have spiritual properties in many African cultures, such as the ability to ward off evil spirits.

At the end of the first day we caught a sunset by the lighthouse. We had not been so relaxed since last fall when we escaped to the north Georgia mountains for a weekend.

The next day at Nanny Goat Beach, we had to contend with the crowds. We saw a whopping seven more people. I was coming back to life. Full of hope and not worried about much. Freedom was my new favorite drug and I was starting to learn what it felt like to be a person and not a job. I listed off all of the things I was without a job: girlfriend, daughter, friend, sister, aunt, cousin, published author, traveler, and healthy human being. I also decided that sometimes when you are in transition, it is okay to float.

Nanny Goat Beach - Sapelo Island — ***Nanny Goat Beach – Sapelo Island***

As we were leaving, I asked Lucy Lea about her Sapelo story. She came to the island by chance. She had a clothing store in Peachtree City, Georgia and was actually in search of Cumberland Island. Greyfield was booked so she found herself in a grocery store buying a meal for the night when she found a book sitting on top of the green beans. The book was about Georgia’s islands. She visited Sapelo and knew she wanted to live there immediately. Some things are just meant to be I guess.

People have asked her what she does with all her time on the island. “I don’t know,” she said. “I do yoga. I go walking. All I know is I never have enough time.” I know what she means.

The last night of our stay, Lucy’s daughter-in-law rode the ferry at 2:30 a.m. to the mainland and a new baby girl bounced in to our world. I prayed that she would live a good life with enough adversity mixed in to make her strong enough to fight when she has to.

I watched some dolphins playing while I waited on the ferry. And when our time came to go, we floated right on home.

As always, our adventures are logged and indexed inside our “Play” Journal by Stealth Journals. A sample entry page is pictured below:

Ferry Home - Sapelo Island — ***Ferry Home – Sapelo Island***

March 14, 2014 2

Haunted Savannah

In America, the South holds a certain mystique. Whenever I meet someone who has never traveled in my section of the world, they invariably conjure up images in their minds of old plantation homes with Spanish-moss covered oaks lining the drive, gentlemen and ladies who entertain on front porches, the eccentric aunt who lives upstairs, and a slower way of life.

While these stereotypes may be true in many instances, there is another one that carries even more weight when discussing characteristics of the South. Savannah, Georgia has been named One of America’s Most Haunted Cities by U.S. Today. As the city grew, it built upon its dead. Houses and commercial buildings were constructed right over burial grounds, and when people renovate it is routine to find human remains in the ground. The local courts ruled in the 1950’s that having a ghost in your house is a structural defect, and sellers must list paranormal activity in their Disclosure Statements. The below list discuss some of the reasons why Savannah is known for being so haunted.

Colonial Park Cemetery:

Colonial Park dates back to 1750. In 1820, Yellow Fever struck Savannah, and it is estimated that more than 700 victims are buried in this cemetery. Even more disturbing, during the Civil War, Yankee soldiers set up camp within the gates of the cemetery, and even inside the mausoleums. Many graves and headstones were desecrated, and today you can see where random headstones have been placed against the back wall because it is simply impossible to establish where the original gravesites were (Link 1). One of the most popular local legends is that of Rene Asche Rondolier. Rene was born in 1777, and was over seven feet tall. He was known for killing animals around the neighborhood. When this came to light, his parents confined him on the property. However, soon, two mutilated bodies of young girls were found near the family’s property (now the cemetery), and Rene was found hiding in the tunnels below ground. Even after he was killed by the townspeople, two more children and one woman were later found dead. Rene’s ghost was blamed for these deaths (Link 2).

Juliette Gordon Low Birthplace:
Savannah is the birthplace of Juliette Gordon Low, the founder of the Girl Scouts (link 3). The house is open for tours, and staff members have reported hearing piano sounds and have even seen apparitions. As I wrote in one of my personal blog posts, “Margaret Wayt DeBolt wrote Savannah Spectres and Other Strange Tales in 1984, and the tour began because of her and her fantastic book. As an aside, my favorite story in the book (and about haunted Savannah so far) is the one about Nellie and William Washington Gordon, II, who seemed to have a love that even death could not interfere with. As Nellie lay dying, her children who were in attendance were reported to say “when she died, her face took on the radiance of a bride, going to meet her bridegroom.” The family butler was said to report, through a face streaming tears, that he saw the General appear, and that he came to fetch her himself.” (Link 4)

Kehoe House:

William Kehoe’s 1892 Renaissance Revival home looms five stories over Columbia Square in downtown Savannah. Many family members died in the home, and as early as 1937 it was being operated as a mortuary. The home was owned by Goette Funeral Home during the 1950’s and 1970’s. Football great Joe Namath was the last private individual to own the home. There are many stories on the internet and even in some books that tell the tale of two Kehoe girl twins who perished in the home while playing in a chimney (Link 5). There is a commemorative decoration in the chimneys on the main floor that is said to corroborate this story. During my personal overnight stay in the house, I asked a bellman about the stories. His reply? “It’s not haunted. There are two children, and they live here. This is their house.” I interviewed Tara Kehoe Ryan on October 26, 2013, and she confirmed that two of the Kehoe girls passed away in the home at very young ages, but they succumbed to Roseola, and passed within days of each other, not while playing in the chimneys. For more history about the Kehoe family and their historic home, please see Carol Ann Causey’s research paper (Link 6).

Oatland Island:
Today, Oatland Island is a wildlife preserve and favorite field trip destination for local schools. While visitors walk the wooded trails, they will come across random abandoned buildings and old towers. In 1927, the main building was a hospital for The Brotherhood of Railroad Conductors. The 1940’s brought a syphilis outbreak, and locals (including children) were brought here. Somewhere along the way, rumors persisted of the government running secret tests on the patients. (Link 7) For more information about the history and hauntings of Oatland Island, please see Shannon Scott’s short film (Link 8).

Old Candler Hospital:
Originally built in 1808 as a poor house and seaman’s hospital, this building claims to have its share of haunts inside. But perhaps the biggest attraction it holds is actually underground. The Oglethorpe Tour Company was the only company in town that held a license to take tours down into the morgue tunnels below the old hospital (tours currently suspended while construction is taking place on the new Savannah Law School) (Link 9). The tunnels are the subject of much speculation by locals. Tour guides tell tales of autopsies being performed underground, as well as claiming that the tunnel was used to carry victims of the Yellow Fever out of the hospital without drawing the attention of the public to the epidemic (Link 10).

The Pirate’s House:

The “Herb House” which adjoins the restaurant is said to be the oldest house in Georgia. The old wooden restaurant is dark and maintains the perfect old seafaring atmosphere. It is not hard to picture a room full of sailors drinking rum after arriving in Savannah’s harbor in the late 1700’s. Captain Flint, the famous pirate in Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island was reported to have died upstairs (Link 11). The tunnels (one of which is prominently displayed – yet roped off) reportedly lead underground to the Savannah River, where many men were shanghaied after a long night of drinking. (Link 12)

Marshall House:

When you check into the luxurious Marshall House you may not have ghosts in mind. But visitors and staff insist that Union soldiers remain from the Civil War days when the property served as a hospital. (Link 13) The Marshall House even topped Fox News’s list of haunted getaways. (Link 14) While on a recent tour, my guide informed us that during renovations, the Marshall House was one of the famous locations that unearthed some of those pesky Civil War human remains that people have been finding all over the historic district.

Old Pink House:

This is the home of Savannah’s best ghost host. James Habersham, Jr. built the home in the late 1700’s and reportedly is still hanging about. Women are advised to avoid the restroom in the tavern downstairs. This is because of so many people experiencing getting locked in! Ghostly children are blamed for these tricks (Link 15). James has been seen and experienced by staff and visitors alike. He will light candles, straighten table linens, and has even shared a toast with a guest (Link 16). A tip for travelers trying to sneak out on the bill by feigning terror in the restroom: the bartenders are on to you. You will surely be caught.

Moon River Brewery:

Most of the ghost stories around Savannah are harmless in nature. Over at Moon River, the experiences tend to run a little darker. The Manager reports being pushed and shoved, has had bottles thrown at him, and has seen silverware thrown from the tables. He has also seen women walking up and down the stairwells (Link 17). One of the most interesting videos I have ever seen is of “Toby,” the entity purportedly captured on video lurking around a pool table in the cellar. A full body female apparition has also been witnessed walking up to the bar by multiple people simultaneously. The Brewery is in the same building as the former 1821 City Hotel. (Link 18)

1790 Inn & Restaurant:

The 1790 prominently advertises the spirit of Anna. They even (in good fun) have a replica of her spirit displayed in an upstairs guest room 204 by the window so passersby can see her. (Link 19) The truth of Anna has turned into nothing but rumor now, but the sad tale is one of heartbreak when the young lady was betrayed by the love of her life, who was a visiting sailor. She either jumped off the roof or was pushed to her death (Link 20). Whatever the origins of the story, guests keep leaving comment cards that reflect a presence is sticking around 1790. The most common guest comments? Well, they are from couples who report that the female has experienced something. Perhaps Anna is still bitter after all this time and is working diligently to prevent other people from being happy in their relationships.

Links:

Link 1: http://www.visit-historic-savannah.com/colonial-park-cemetery.html

Link 2: http://www.hauntedlowcountry.com/index.php?/hauntlow/georgia/the_story_of_rene_asche_rondolier/

Link 3: http://www.juliettegordonlowbirthplace.org/

Link 4: https://jamiedaviswrites.com/2013/09/20/ghost-talk-ghost-walk-savannah-walking-tour/

Link 5: http://www.kehoehouse.com/haunted-savannah.htm

Link 6: http://www.library.armstrong.edu/kehoe.pdf

Link 7: http://www.haunted-places-to-go.com/haunted-places-in-georgia.html

Link 8: http://shannonscotttours.webs.com/apps/videos/videos/show/16961191

Link 9: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SoMeeP53UUM&list=FLJNDOoyWBbQzJ0RXmH0rJFg&index=8

Link 10: http://www.savannahbest.com/savhist/tunnel.htm

Link 11: http://www.thepirateshouse.com/history.html

Link 12: http://ghosttoursinsavannah.com/haunted-savannah/the-pirates-house/

Link 13: http://www.marshallhouse.com/history.htm

Link 14: http://www.foxnews.com/travel/2011/10/11/haunted-hotels-provide-perfect-october-getaway/

Link 15: http://savannahnow.com/accent/2008-10-23/olde-pink-house-james-habershams-real-resting-place#.Uw5r1WeYbIU

Link 16: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/674150.James_Caskey/blog/tag/haunted-pub-crawl-savannah

Link 17: http://www.moonriverbrewing.com/about-us/the-ghosts

Link 18: http://savannahnow.com/accent/2008-10-09/moon-river-watch-out-ghosts-throwing-bottles#.Uw5w2GeYbIU

Link 19: http://17hundred90.com/category/in-the-news/

Link 20: http://savannahnow.com/accent/2008-10-30/17-hundred-90-comment-cards-dont-lie#.Uw5y0meYbIU

March 9, 2014 0

What I Thought of Charleston, SC

Living so close to what is often referred to as Savannah’s twin city, we thought it was downright shameful that we had never spent a weekend in the other fine southern city. So we set out to do just that. On our way, we had to make a pit stop somewhere around SC-17, and I’m going to need you to brace yourself for this one. I preface this by saying I am a full-fledged southerner. For better or worse, more Cracker Queen than Belle. But even I have never seen the likes of this:

This is just priceless and I honestly think I should win some sort of award for capturing this image. This my friends, belongs on a cover of some magazine somewhere. One time, the great Dixie Carter (by way of playing Julia Sugarbaker on Designing Women) had to school a New York Times writer about how southerners don’t eat dirt for vitamins. But then you go in a gas station somewhere and see a pickled parts buffet and then kind of think “Well, damn. No wonder they think we don’t have indoor plumbing down here.”

Oh, I’m just getting warmed up here.

I’m not going to tell you that I saw some jackass get out of this monstrosity and purchase an assortment of pickled items. But I will tell you that after I saw all of the above three things happen in a VERY CLOSE time frame, I coined a new state motto. “South Carolina: Where People are Different.” Feel free to quote me extensively on that. Get the “i” in my name right, okay? It’s J-A-M-I-E Davis.

Alright, I realize we had less than a glamorous start on our Charleston adventure, but I promise you I wasn’t jaded.

Here’s the thing about Charleston. There’s great shopping, restaurants, park walking, and historic architecture. Kind of like Savannah, where we already live and enjoy the amenities daily? We had a nice walk around the Battery Park and waterfront areas.

We even went and checked out Folly Beach, which is a funky little beach town, but you know what I ultimately said? I told Bob that I was so sick of seeing so many people gathered around all these brown oceans we have here. He informed me that the Atlantic is brown because of river sediment, and some more science stuff that I guess makes sense but I don’t care because I just want the ocean to be blue. South Beach, Miami. These people know what an ocean should look like. The entire Caribbean Sea. Also very pleasing. I said, “If we can figure out how to turn the Savannah River green on St. Patrick’s Day, we can figure out how to make the Atlantic blue off Tybee.” Bob said we cannot just make the ocean blue because it will kill all the fish and all this other crap (which I don’t care about, because I don’t even like fish). I don’t want to turn the entire Atlantic Ocean blue, anyway. Just the parts where I visit. My point is, I don’t think anyone is even trying to make it prettier and that makes me just so sad. Why can’t I have a blue ocean where I live and places I occasionally visit? Life sucks.

But I digress. I don’t want to slam Charleston, and that’s not what I’m trying to do. We are always glad to go see somewhere new. I like bacon and cheddar cheese on my grits just as much as the next person. Usually, we like to take in the local art museum when we can. We did that over at the Gibbes and here is the best thing I have to say about that:

That light was pretty, though. They closed 1/3 of the museum but still extracted full price admission from us and that was disappointing. Of course we didn’t complain about it, what kind of people do you think we are? We would have been more than happy to pay obviously, I just don’t appreciate the poor customer service. You don’t have to try to pull one over on me at the art museum, okay? We can pay your admission. In case you haven’t heard, I have much bigger problems on my hands to contend with, namely changing the color of the Atlantic Ocean (but only where I live and occasionally visit).

What else? Here’s the difference between Charleston people and Savannah people. Georgia was a penal colony. Charleston was a place where the wealthy English first went to Barbados, and then came here. Where people leave signs like this outside their homes in the Battery Park area.

I’m just not the kind of person who gets all hot and bothered when a dog behaves like a dog. I guess in Charleston, the old blue bloods make even the dogs walk the line.

As always, we log our adventures inside our “Play” Journal, by Stealth Journals. “Play,” is an indexed book journal by Stealth Journals that should be used to record all of your good times.

March 8, 2014 0

Coming Soon: Hotel Waverly Hills Sanatorium

I’m with her. I want to be excited about this news, but a big part of me is just saddened by it. Charles Mattingly has confirmed (http://www.wdrb.com/story/24854652/waverly-hills-the-hotel)that the fourth floor will remain intact, so that is something at least. Still, you can’t blame them for being capitalists.

Postcard from Waverly Hills Sanatorium

Coming Soon: Hotel Waverly Hills Sanatorium

Charlie and Tina Mattingly, current owners of the infamous Waverly Hills Sanatorium, located at 4400 Paralee Lane, Louisville, Kentucky, announced plans to open a 4-star, 120-room hotel catering to the paranormal connoisseur. But would I book a room?

First, a little history:

Major Thomas H. Hays purchased the property in 1883. He built a modest schoolhouse and hired Miss Lizzie Lee Harris to educate his children. Miss Harris christened the schoolhouse “Waverley School” because of her fondness for Sir Walter Scott’s Waverley novels. Major Hays renamed the entire estate Waverley Hills. When the Board of Tuberculosis purchased the land, they kept the name but changed the spelling to “Waverly.”

Tuberculosis (TB) was known as “The White Plague.” It ran rampant in the early 1900s and prompted the opening of a sanatorium. In its heyday, the 2-story Waverley Hills accommodated…

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March 7, 2014 0

Lingering Spirits at The Ellis Hotel in Atlanta, Georgia?

The Ellis Hotel on Peachtree Street in Atlanta, Georgia is a luxury boutique hotel. There is nothing creepy inside, nothing whatsoever that would give a guest any inclination of what happened here on December 7, 1946. In fact, the commemorative plaque is actually hidden away behind a Marta entrance on the side of the hotel. A place where few people would happen upon it, in my opinion.

Winecoff Plaque — ***Winecoff Fire Plaque in Front of The Ellis Hotel***

In The Winecoff Fire: The Untold Story of America’s Deadliest Hotel Fire, Sam Heys and Allen B. Goodwin call the hotel Atlanta’s Titanic. The Winecoff was built in 1913 and had been boasted about as being fireproof (even though it lacked fire alarms, sprinklers, and fire escapes), just as the Titanic was said to be unsinkable. But on December 7, 1946, a mysterious fire broke out on the fifth floor and claimed 119 lives. Technically, the building was fireproof. The people inside the building, however, of course were not.

Within days of the tragedy, building and fire codes were changed all over the country to prevent something like this from ever happening again. So many things went wrong. In addition to the failures mentioned above, the Winecoff only had one central staircase (which essentially turned into a chimney during the fire). The Atlanta Fire Department only had ladders that reached to the eighth floor (of a fifteen story building).

To date, this is the worst hotel fire in North America.

Before visiting, I thought a place that had seen such tragedy would surely have some lingering effects. I felt nothing here. For the first time in a long time (on a ghost hunt that failed to produce evidence of the other side), I was glad. I told myself that these fire victims were not trapped here re-living that horrible night over and over again. They were finally able to escape the Winecoff. I gave them an internal cheer and paused to reflect upon all of our fleeting lives.

Remembering Chicago

Last May I took a trip for the first time to see Chicago. I previously posted about the art museums, but I was looking back through my journal and having a grand time reflecting on the trip. We took the “L” everywhere, and I was amazed by how close the train came to people’s backyards. Once the train stopped, and if the windows would have opened, I would have been able to reach out and grab food off some guy’s grill (if I was rude like that).

The first afternoon we just meandered around and got our bearings. Wound up walking through Millenium Park and checking out our reflections in Cloud Gate (or what I had previously been calling The Bean). See below shot, it is a sort of Where’s Waldo version of Jamie and Bob in the reflection from Cloud Gate. Anish Kapoor’s sculpture was inspired by liquid mercury and is one of the largest in the world.

Cloud Gate - Chicago — ***Cloud Gate – Chicago***

We also enjoyed watching the changing images on Crown Fountain (or what I had previously been calling Face Fountain). The images displayed are of 1,000 Chicago residents.

Crown Fountain - Chicago — ***Crown Fountain – Chicago***

We even made it to Chinatown twice. Once for first dinner at 5:00 (where I ate an eggroll the size of my head and watched a lovely scene of two employees snapping a whole table full of fresh peas in the back of the restaurant between waiting on us), and then the following night we made it back for second dinner at 8:00. After first dinner, we found ourselves in some sort of general store where we procured a tea that has probably not been actually approved for sale (based on the reactions I got when I tried to take a picture of the shelves), along with some foot detox pads. Now, I can’t prove it. But all I know is that the day after we used those foot pads I had a terrible migraine in the middle of the Art Institute.

To be fair, I had worked myself up into a whirlwind tizzy of excitement over in the contemporary section. By the time we worked our way over to the Arms and Armor exhibit I was losing my vision. We sought refuge in the café and I wolfed down a cheese plate. We took a break and returned after dinner. The museum was open until 8:00 and there is something really magical about being in an art museum at night. We had a much better time after the crowds had thinned out.

I loved exploring on foot and taking in all of the Art Deco Architecture. We even went on a walking tour, but it was not Bob’s thing. At one point, he abandoned me to go to a McDonald’s and buy a coffee. Maybe we got on the wrong tour. He thought we were going to be learning about the massive steel skyscrapers. Come to think of it, so did I.

We took the water taxi from the Field Museum to Navy Pier. This was a great view of the city! We concluded that the best thing about Navy Pier was the fantastic hot dog we procured that came on a poppy seed bun and contained a pepper, tomato, onion, and a pickle spear. What a marvelous creation. Another thing we learned about ourselves was that we are New York pizza people. Sorry, Chicago. You just did it a little too much for our taste.

After our visit to the Museum of Contemporary Art we found ourselves wondering through The Drake. We were adopted by the bellman, and taken up the elevator to see some show piece rooms. He said to us: “And this, this is the Princess Di Suite. All of the windows look out to face Lake Michigan. Can’t you just hear Christopher Walken’s Sailing?” It was truly a precious moment when the bellman made that comment. Let me tell you something else. Princess Di had quite a view from this room. Lake Michigan looks just like the ocean.

I saw a corpse of a rat under the “L” in Greek town. He was just lying in the middle of the street, big as a Yorkie.

While strolling through the North River Galleries, a gallery girl kept asking me “Are you trying to build your collection?”

“No,” I answered. “I’m just educating myself.”

“So you can start a collection,” she insisted, nodding her head vigorously and winking at Bob.

I sighed and gave in to her. “Yeah alright, tell me about the Dali illustrations.”

As always, you can find our travels indexed inside our “Play” Journal, by Stealth Journals. A sample page is pictured below:

February 27, 2014 0

Rainy Day in Georgia

Better take an umbrella.

February 26, 2014 0