Thursday, January 4, 2018

Baby Doe Tabor by Katherine Pym

Buy Here

 

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A new year, a new subject (not 17th century) but still history, about...

Baby Doe Tabor

Elizabeth Bonduel McCourt was born into the wrong family mid 19th century, in Oshkosh Wisconsin USA. She was vivacious and beautiful. She loved adventure whereas her family preferred quiet afternoons.  

Her skin was beautiful, her eyes sparkling, and her lips perfect for kisses. Known as the ‘Belle of Oshkosh’, men flocked around her, wrote poetry and gave her gifts.

A man’s world did not intimidate her. At the age of 22, she entered and won a figure skating contest. Her audacity shocked the town but it also attracted a young man named Harvey Doe, Jr. The two fell in love and married.

Their honeymoon was on a train to Denver, Colorado. From there, they traveled to Central City where Harvey would work in his father’s mine. It did not take long for Elizabeth to realize she’d married a dud. He couldn’t stay put, wandered from one town to another, drank and gambled. He was unfaithful and enjoyed going to brothels. Harvey became debt-ridden. She knew if she didn’t work the mine, she’d starve.

She dressed in men’s clothing and showed up one morning at her father-in-law’s mine. The men were shocked, couldn’t believe what they saw. Elizabeth nodded her pretty head and carried her lunchbox into the shafts.

The Tabor House, Leadville CO
The miners found her to be a hard worker. Every day their admiration grew. They called her Lizzy and as each one fell in love with her, she became Baby Doe. (I wonder if the spunky Elizabeth, now dubbed ‘Baby,’ had anything to do with how the writers of Dirty Dancing named their main character.) Hmmm. Something to think about.

Anyway…

The mine was playing out. Fed up, Baby Doe divorced Harvey. She had visited Leadville Colorado once and liked it. She decided to move there. 
Silver Dollar Tabor

As an aside: Leadville is an interesting town with an interesting history. Some say many of the buildings are haunted. I enjoyed our visit, a one night stopover on our way to California.

My son (age 10) did not like it. Something spooked him to such an extent, he could not sleep and could not wait to leave there. The next morning when we got into the car, we had a flat tire. The serviceman said the nail was ancient, as if from the old mining days. He would not give it to us, and frankly the less my son saw of the place the better. We did not argue, and left right after the fellow fixed the flat.

So Baby Doe found her way to Leadville. Her beauty attracted everyone she met. Women liked her, and her sense of humor. Soon, she found her way into the heart of a wealthy resident named Horace Tabor but he was married. His wife worked hard by his side. They supplied miners with equipment. Their days turned bright when they grubstaked a couple of miners who struck silver.

Young Augusta Tabor
The Tabors became multimillionaires within months. Horace bought up mines and entered politics. He was Leadville’s postmaster, and first mayor. His wife was unhappy. She looked old before her time. Tabor was ready for another woman and Baby Doe fit the bill. They embarked on a romance.

They tried to keep it secret but soon word leaked. Baby Doe became the ‘other woman’. Tabor wanted a divorce. His money allowed him the best lawyers who advised him the best way to do it without his wife knowing. He rode to Durango where he divorced her, then took Baby Doe to St. Louis where they married (only a little bit illegal).

Tabor devastated his first wife. She took what little money he provided and with tail tucked between her skirted legs, she fled Colorado to settle in California. It is said she died not long after of a broken heart. 

An older, unhappy Augusta Tabor
Baby Doe and Horace lived it up big. Notwithstanding his affair and consequent divorce, he became a senator and the couple headed for Washington DC. Their lifestyle made front page news. Their parties were extravagant. The president attended along with everyone on the who’s who list.  

After the DC stint, they moved to Denver, their goal to make Denver into a western Paris. Her husband continued to buy up mines that yielded silver in the millions. The Tabors had 2 daughters, Elizabeth (Lilly) & Rose Mary (nicknamed Silver Dollar). They had a son who was stillborn.

Horace did not diversify his investments. In 1893, the US Treasury lowered the value of silver. Within days, Tabor’s silver holdings were worthless. They were forced to move into a humble cottage. Vicious tongues wagged, stating Baby would leave her husband now he was penniless and find another wealthy man but they were misguided. Baby stayed with Horace until his death in 1899. Several thousand attended his funeral.

Matchless Mine, Leadville CO
Before his death, Horace believed the Matchless Mine in Leadville would come into its own again. He told Baby to hold onto it which she did for another 36 years. She tried to revive it again and again but the mine was spent. Baby Doe fell into poverty, moved into a cabin next to the mine that was more cardboard than wood.

Obsessed, she worked tirelessly to revive a lost cause. Her singlemindedness made her a legend and that same quality caused her daughters to desert her. She scribbled gibberish in her journal how the mine and her wealth would be restored.

During the harsh winter of 1935, Baby Doe Tabor froze to death. She was found on the floor of that flimsy cabin with her hands crossed over her chest. She was 81 years old.

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Many thanks to:
Green, Valerie. Gamblers, Gunmen, and Good-Time Gals. Altitude Publishing, Ltd., Alberta, Ca, 2005
And of course, wikicommons, public domain

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Be daring... Be bold... by J. S. Marlo




The holidays are almost over, and for me this is the time of year to reflect on what I accomplished and to set new goals for next year.

Last summer I wanted a new look so I cut my hair short. I had shed a fur coat from my head and it felt amazing, but something went missing. I had a few hidden purple streaks underneath the top layers that could only be seen when I brushed my hair, quickly moved my head, or ran my finger into my hair. Still, the streaks were there and my little three-year-old granddaughter loved playing in my hair and looking at the purple. After it was gone, she kept asking “Where’s the purple, grand-maman?” “When are you going to put more purple in your hair, grand-maman?”

I toyed with the idea for months, I browsed through hair pictures, then one day I stumbled onto a woman with short purple and blue hair. I reminded me of the northern lights. It was gorgeous...and daring. I showed the picture of the woman to my granddaughter. She loved the blue with the purple, so mid-December, I told my hairdresser to work her magic. The pic is me. The new “daring” me.

People’s reactions were across the spectrum. “You’re brave” – “I want hair like yours” –  “Why? But why?” – “You’re bold” – “I love it” – “It’s pretty” – “Wow...” (Many different nuances of wow)  – “Don’t worry, your hair will grow back” (I don't want it to grow back...) – “How long is that going to last?” (Hopefully many many months) – “Don’t let my wife see you or she’ll do it too” – “It’s your hair” – “It looks better than I thought it would”

When I go out, some strangers stare silently while others stop me in the store or the street to say they like my hair then they start talking to me about other things. It’s fascinating because I’m still me but some people’s perception has changed. So how do I feel about this?

Well... I like my hair and so does my little granddaughter.

Do someone people think I’m weird? Probably, but in all fairness, I am weird. I write mystery novels and I kill at least one person per book. It does qualify as weird, but deep down, I’m the same person I have always been. Still, I got to interact with lots of new people because I dared color my hair purple and blue.

The point is you never know what’s waiting for you around that daring corner. You may have written a novel but you’re hesitant to submit it because you’re afraid people won’t like it. It’s true that not everybody likes every book—not everybody likes my novels and I don’t like every novel that was ever written—but if you like your book and it makes one person smile, cry, or stay up late at night to finish a chapter, then it’s worth it. Don’t be afraid to try because you’re afraid of what people might think.

Be daring, be bold, but never forget to be yourself!

Happy 2018!
JS Marlo


Monday, January 1, 2018

On A Stormy Primeval Shore - Canadian Historical Brides Book 9 - Just Released from BWL Publishing Inc.


Available January 1, 2018
Click the cover to purchase from your favorite online retailers.  Available in eBook and print online and in bookstores.

In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, refuses to marry, then meets the handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must protect his mother who was attacked by an English soldier. He fights to hold on to their property, to keep it from the Loyalists who have flooded the colony, desperate men chased from the south after the American Revolution. In a land fraught with hardship, Amelia and Gilbert struggle to overcome prejudice, political upheaval, while forging a life in a remote country where events seek to destroy their love and lives.
 

The Arc of the Story as I see it, by Diane Scott Lewis
 
I adore history and telling stories. I was born in California and published short-stories and poems in school magazines. I wanted to travel the world, so I joined the navy at nineteen, married my navy husband in Greece-and explored the ancient ruins-then had two sons. We traveled to exotic locales, giving me the urge to weave tales involving the past. My first novel was published in 2010, and many historical novels followed. I now live with my husband in Western Pennsylvania.

My current work in progress is in honor of Canada's 150th birthday: On a Stormy Primeval Shore
In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, and refuses to marry him. She is attracted to a handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must fight the incursion of English Loyalists from the American war to hold onto his land and heritage. Will he and Amelia find peace when events seek to destroy their love and lives.


What is a story arc? An agent once asked me if my story followed the three-arc format? I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I took a writing class, which helped—sort of—to explain this issue. I was under the impression I could write my novel any way I wanted to, rambling on and on, throwing in info dumps, but no, you must have an arc, a frame work, highs and lows and a wrapping up at the end.

Since I’m a ‘pantzer’ i. e., I write by the ‘seat of my pants’, I just start writing with a slight idea of who my characters are and what the setting will be. It’s after I’ve written several chapters that I figure out where the story will go.

For this novel, I read up on the history of New Brunswick, decided to start with the ‘break’ of the colony from Nova Scotia in 1784, and tossed my female character, Amelia, a young Englishwoman, into those events. My male character is Acadian. Gilbert grew up with the ebb and flow of changing events, the expulsion of his people when the British came, and so forth. This way I could show the colony from the POV of two different cultures.

As for story arcs, I’m not sure if I follow the framework as I should. I try to intermix action, with gentler scenes, have a big action scene near the end, then wrap up the story. My characters often tell me which way to go once their personalities flesh out and they take over the novel. I try to work in the history in ways that make sense and don’t overwhelm the reader. But I still like those info dumps, darn it!

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