Postcards from Forrest Hall by Jean Schultz

Chicago heat is so unbearable in the summer.  There is absolutely no air coming through my bedroom window.  But school is over now until September and I do so look forward to this time of year.  Helga, our cook, nanny and mother’s maid is downstairs in the kitchen making lemonade for the day’s refreshment.  She is such a marvelous cook and so much a part of our family.

Mother can’t tolerate the heat and has told father, just yesterday, “If I have to spend one more summer in the city I will just die on the vine weeping.”  At dinner tonight she went on and on about the Hogarth family who are going to rusticate at a lodge on a lake in Wisconsin this year.

“Why can’t the Sargents spend our summer in a place of leisure?  A quiet, cool respite.”

These statements were made at the start of every dinner meal, prior to being served.  Father would peer over the top of his newspaper and just smile.  Tonight he responded with his usual smile but now there was a twinkle in his eye.  It was almost as if he was ready to tell us something.

At bedtime each evening for the past two weeks he would pick me up and carry me to the top of the staircase and drop me onto the foot of my feather bed.  

"Only two more sleepings, Sis,” he said, “til your birthday surprise.”  The countdown was almost over.

Each year during the first nine years of my life I was gifted by my parents with amazing surprises, most of which were my father’s doing.  There was a dollhouse with real glass windows, a wicker doll carriage, a hobby horse made with real horse hair for its mane and tail, a Studebaker wooden wagon, and a sled with a push handle for Helga to take me on winter walks. 

Then there were my pets. Two yellow kittens to keep the mice out of the barn and a beautiful glass bowl aquarium with eight fan tail goldfish.   

Plus one of my prized possessions, a gold, heart shaped locket with a “J” engraved on the front for Jeannie.  I was named for my maternal grandmother as well as Stephen Foster’s song about another Jeannie, with the light brown hair.

But last year’s gift was my favorite of all times.  I remember being blindfolded, sitting on the front porch and hearing the horses and carriages going by.  When father said, “Now don’t peek,” I could hear one horse stop at our post.  Mother helped me stand up and the blindfold was untied.

Old Harrold, our hired man, stepped down from our buggy to release the sweetest Shetland pony tethered to the back.  She was a paint black and white spotted mare with red ribbons braided into her tail and forelock.  I began to cry with happy tears.  I felt that all of my dreams had come true at that very moment.  I hugged my parents and asked, “For me?”  

“Yes,” father replied. “Happy Birthday!”

I raced down the steps, two at a time, to greet my Posie.  Rosie Posie I named her on the spot, as happiness just bubbled up inside of me and spilled out all over the place.

“Now I don’t have to gallop to school on an imaginary horse anymore,” I said to myself.

Harold brought over a small black saddle with white stitching and tacked her up. Before I knew it we were being led around the back yard between the rose beds and the dalais.  I was feeling like a princess for sure.

Now it was 1872 and I was all set to turn 11.  The anticipation of this birthday was monumental.  I would ask mother to give me a clue about this year’s surprise and she would reply, “Sorry, but I am not privileged to know what your birthday gift will be this year.”

Now it is only one more sleeping to go and I hear Helga and her husband Harold clunking and clanking our trunks and valises down from the trunk room in the attic including the ones used on my parents’ honeymoon to London.

“Who’s going on a trip,” I asked them.  

“Your father will tell you at dinner this evening, so don’t ask any more questions.” Helga said. 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise Missy,” Harold added with a wink.

Golly.  Could it be my birthday surprise, I wondered?

The dining room was terribly warm and when the temperature is that high mother tells Helga to prepare a cold meal for dinner.  She brought out cold potato consume, a salad of bib lettuce with vinegar cucumbers, fresh fruit and cold asparagus spears.  Harold hand cranked our vanilla ice cream to have with Helga’s sugar cookies.

“Thems my kind of vitals I like on a hot night,” Helga told me as I helped dry the dishes.  She didn’t want to heat up the kitchen with the ovens on either.  Whenever I wanted to talk about anything important I offer to help her in the kitchen.  But this time she wasn’t about to reveal the secret birthday surprise though no matter how much I helped.

It was almost bedtime when the doorbell rang.  It was the Western Union messenger delivering a telegram.  Father read the message and smiled a big smile as he read the message to us.  “We are here and settled in!”  It was signed James P. Smith and Homer Corwith.  Father and these two men were supervisors at the Michigan Central Railroad in the Airline division.  That line was a recent addition and provided service between Jackson, Michigan and Chicago.

My younger brothers, William who was five and John Bernard who was three, were running down the hallway and sliding on their knickers, much to mother’s consternation.  

“Come into the parlor with me and sit down,” father told everyone.  I want to reveal Jeannie’s birthday gift which will be shared by the whole Sargent family this summer.  

Helga and Harold stood by the parlor door to see the reaction of my mother, Margaret, and her children.

Father reached into the side pocket of his linen jacket to produce a white piece of paper.  It was a train schedule for the Michigan Central.  He had circled a train time tomorrow, early Tuesday morning, that showed the departure from Union Station all the way to Jackson.

“We’re going to ride a train,” I cried.  I got up from the velvet settee and ran to papa to hug his leg and the boys followed, to hug his other leg.

Mother, in her sweet voice, folded her fan and inquired, “Where are we going and for how long, dear?”

“We will be staying the entire summer at a very special place and Helga and Harold will be going along to assist us.  They have been in on this birthday surprise for a while, he added.  I am telling you now so that you can get prepared but that’s all I want to say about our destination for now.”  Helga smiled and assured mother that this would be the kind of summer she would find quite inviting. 

“Margaret, I have instructed Harold to prepare the livestock for the journey in the baggage car including Goldie and her carriage, the chickens, Rosie Posey, Helga’s kitchen canaries and even the barn cats,” father told her.

Excitement filled the room.  I danced around as Helga began to cover the parlor furniture with sheets.  Harold drew the heavy drapes and closed the fireplace flue.  So even Rosie Posie is going along with us.  No wonder Harold wanted me to groom her the best I could yesterday. 
 

I couldn’t sleep all that night.  I tossed and turned because tomorrow I will be 11 years, old, not a baby anymore, and going on my father’s train to a new summer place.  I kept wondering, what will I do there and who will I meet?  Will mother and the boys like it?  Too much to worry about!  It will all be good, I know.

Tuesday morning came finally and I got up with the last blink of sleep still in my eyes.  I wanted to get started so I ran to the boy’s room to wake them.  I got them dressed in the clothes laid out for travelling.  They wiggled and squirmed while I finally buttoned up their shoes.  

After finishing our pancakes we were allowed to sit on the front steps to watch father as he instructed Old Harold in packing the hack with our trunks and belongings.  Posey and Goldie were tied with their lead ropes to the back railing of the hack wile Helga and Harold rode on the back seat holding a box of kittens and a crate of chickens.  The canaries sang their lungs out from their cage during all the commotion.  

Mother added ten hat boxes and father secured his fish tackle box next to the seat of the hack driver from the local livery stable.  My bicycle and a “built for two” topped off our stack of luggage.  Father drove Goldie and we rode to the station very carefully for fear that something would fall off.

We were told to sit on the depot bench where we could watch the baggage being loaded.  Father always wanted us to see life unfold before our own eyes.  Mother’s parasol protected us from the hot sun.

When father was done orchestrating the loading of our possessions he motioned us to come over to board the train.  The conductor bellowed, “Alllll aboard, to all points east,” as he placed his metal stool at the door of our private car for us to enter.  Our summer journey had finally begun.

Steam was building up in the locomotive’s boiler and soon I could feel the slight movement of the cars.  Removing our hats and gloves, mother and I settled into the soft red velvet seats in our coach.

The whistle alerted all those concerned that this big monster was going to roar down the tracks faster than I have ever moved.  What strength and power.  I thought about this very day that was my birthday and that I was seeing place I have never seen racing by my window.  How could one eleven year old be this happy even though I have no clue where this train is taking us?

Father has his well worn brown grief case that he opens up as the train continues to pick up speed.  He takes from his vest pocket his grandfather’s gold watch, a precious wedding gift from his mother, Nellie, and checks to see if we were actually on time as stated in the printed schedule.

Everything is jiggling so much it is hard to stand up now so I decide to sit still for a while.  A man with a mustache, wearing gold rimmed glasses and a uniform, complete with a railroad cap, asks us for our tickets.  Father and he seem to know each other.

“Margaret, I want you to meet Raymond.  And these are my children, William, John Bernard and Jeannie, who is celebrating her birthday today,” he announced with pride.

“Nice to make your acquaintance,” was Raymond’s reply. 
 

Speaking up I asked, “Mr. Raymond, do you know how long our trip will be and what will be our destination?”

“Yes, young lady, your travel will be 110 miles and you should be there in four hours.

He hesitated to answer my other question saying, “Your destination?  May I say Mr. Sargent?”

“Yes, of course you may, father replied.”  

Then nodding, he proceeded to tell me, “You are travelling to one of the most beautiful inland lakes in all of the United States.  And it is found very near to this Michigan Central train line.  It sparkles like diamonds in the sun and there is a fish at the end of every fishhook and the lake breeze is as refreshing as a glass of homemade lemonade.

Father gave Raymond a wink and told him not to reveal anymore, lest he spoil the birthday surprise.

Raymond took out his silver punch and put holes in each of our tickets, dropping tiny circles of paper on the carpet.  Father quietly asked him to join him in the club car for a cigar after he finishes his rounds so that he can show him some architectural drawings.  With a slight nod his is on to the next car.  I wondered what that was all about since I had such a curious nature.

How lucky I am, I thought as we all sat together, rumbling down the tracks.  My head nodded and finally found its place on mother’s lap.  Our mother was the best in the world.  She could do anything and everything it seemed.  She plays the piano and can sing and dance which always makes my father laugh.  And she is like a mother to our live-in help too and treats them like family.  I have lots of homemade doll clothes and clothes that she has made for me too. But most important is that she loves my father who runs our family matters like a business.

I didn’t sleep long before Raymond came by holding a chime and a mallet to strike a dinner tone to announce lunch was being served directly, only two cars from our coach.  Now was the time to try walking in this rocking train.  The boys walked straighter than I could - maybe because they had shorter legs.  We found father waiting at the table reserved just for us. 
 

Helga and Harold were in charge of my brothers at the table set for four so I was invited to sit with my parents.  I was proud to read the menu for myself and order on my own.

Tomato bisque soup, cottage salad and a grilled cheese sandwich with dill pickle slices between the bread and the cheese was my choice.  Everyone had the chocolate mousse with a cherry on top and iced tea with a sprig of mint. 
 

All through lunch I kept looking out the window and dreaming of where I would end up when this train stopped to let us off.  Soon the waiter, a jolly looking gentleman in a high collar and a white button down jacket took our order.  His pearly white teeth stretched from left to right across his face in a smile as he dismissed himself to place our order with the chef.  Imagine cooking in a kitchen on a jiggley train.

Once I glanced back to check on William and John at the end of the dining car only to witness their inexcusable lack of manners.  They were drinking from the finger bowls!  Helga was busy reading her menu while Harold was laughing at their antics.

All of a sudden Raymond called out, “Next stop, Michigan City.”  Then he announced, “Next Stop, New Buffalo.”  I wondered if buffalo really roam there, along the shore of Lake Michigan that we got to glimpse from time to time.  The stops kept coming – Buckman, Niles and Barron Lake and finally Cassopolis and Diamond Lake.

Father had finished his lunch and excused himself a few stops back to accompany Harold to the baggage car to check on the condition of the animals.  Harold was able to report back to Helga that the kitchen canaries were just fine.  

Helga tapped the boys who were slumped down, napping after lunch while mother and I put on our hats, tying them securely under our chins.  We said our goodbyes to Raymond and reassured him that we’d be traveling back to Chicago before school started up again.  

We all stood under the tiny pavilion used as an open-air train stop.  The train had announced its arrival at this stop long before we actually came to a stop.  Its whistle could be heard all the way to town, allowing the local livery to provide a horse drawn dray to arrive just in time to collect our belongings and move them to our new summer lodgings.  The train pulled to a stop at exactly 11:05, as promised by the schedule. 

We got off in time to watch Harold unload the live stock and hitch up Goldie who was still tacked up with her harness which was left on during our ride from Chicago. 

Traveling down a lane about a half mile I could see from the back seat of our buggy an amazing sight.  There it was the body of water I had just learned about this morning.  A thousand acres of sparkling diamonds shimmering in the sun.  Behind me the train was building up steam to move off to the east to another stop. 

The road we were on was bumpy but beautiful.  Maple trees and fruit trees plus rosebushes lined each side as we made our way toward the water.  Through the trees I spotted a very large home on the hill to the right.  It was three stories high with extremely tall windows on the first level, coming up from the floor of the veranda on three sides.  Helga says that veranda is just a fancy name for a porch but I thought that a fancy name was just right for this one. 
  

Father told me that the house sits in a forest of smooth bark beech trees which made me wonder if these were trees that only grew near beaches at a lake.  Two other buggies were already at the post, leaving just enough room for Goldie to be fastened there too.  The dray took everything else to the rear of the house, just north of the kitchen to a big barn to unload.  

The veranda was so inviting, especially after a long train ride.  I longed to swing on the wicker bed swings hanging on chains from the ceiling.  All the furniture had green and white pin striped cushions and were surrounded by plant stands overflowing with ferns. 

Each window was framed by green shutters and the double front doors were painted the same dark color.  The entire building was white painted clapboard.  Above the front door was a hand carved sign that read, Welcome to the Chicago Club House.

The five of us entered the foyer and noticed another group of five heading up the stairs.   Starting to explore a little we wandered into a cool and inviting dining room.  The ten tables were set with damask cloths and topped with silver vases filled with woodland flowers.

Father seated mother and me while Helga took charge of the boys.  Soon two ladies from the kitchen with white aprons and starched caps entered through one of the two swinging doors.  They served us iced lemonade and crisp ginger snaps.
 

Mother was amazed at this lake hotel and wondered how many others would reside along with us for the summer.   Her thoughts were interrupted by father who was rolling out a set of drawings which had the name of this place written at the top of each page.

“You remember when I formed that partnership with Nathan Gorwith and J.P. Smith a few years back?” he stopped to ask mother.  “That was when the Michigan Central began laying rails on the edge of this acreage.  Well the three of us thought we could build something special here, to get our three families out of the Chicago summer heat.  And it took exactly one year to erect  these buildings to be ready for all of us to begin our summer here this year,” he stated. 

 “So the people we saw in the foyer when we came in?” mother started to ask.

“That was Maude and Kathleen and their three girls,” he answered.  “I knew that they had arrived when I received that telegram and that it was time for us to join them.”

As father showed mother more of the plans you could tell he was very proud of The Chicago Club House which was the name we had seen over the front door.  I was glad when he explained that they had left as many trees as possible and used the ones they cut down to make the parquet floors and the big curved staircase out which was black walnut.  But mostly I wanted to run up those stairs to see the bedrooms and find out which would be mine.

Instead we headed back outside to see the rest of the grounds.  The house faced east which father said was so we would see the sun rise over the lake every morning.  When Helga joined us with the boys in tow, father told them that there was a surprise in store for them too.  “There is a big beautiful steamboat being built right now and by the Fourth of July it will be tied up right here at this dock for us to use,” he said.

“And Margaret, each of us have brought our cooks, housekeepers and hired men along so that our three wives would have help with the management of the household during the times that we men are back in the city,” he went on to explain.  “We plan to just hop the train to go into work early  Monday mornings and come back to The Chicago Club for weekends on Friday nights.  I know this will be a challenge but we are all going to get a lot out of this beautiful place and build many fine memories here.”

Mother was getting excited now too.  “I can see wonderful parties inside and family picnics on the lawn,” she said.  

“Let’s go down to the water’s edge to see the lake and the beach,” I begged, pulling on my father’s coat. 
 

Father started to lead the way but I ran ahead down the grassy knoll.  When I reached the beach I unbuttoned my shoes and removed my stockings to wade into my beautiful lake.  My lake!  I could hardly believe it.  My toes were enjoying the cool water when my brothers caught up; followed by the three girls that father had told us about, Mable, Mary and Belle.

Mother and her new lady friends began their acquaintance by resting on the cement benches under a shade tree.  I wanted to get to know Belle.  She was older but I could tell she liked me because she said “I can teach you to swim this summer, if you like,” as we waded around a couple of rocks.  It turns out that Belle is an only child and I always wanted a sister.  

“Are there boats to row too?” I asked my new friend.

Just then we stopped to watch little baby turtles and tiny fish that father called minnows swim by.  What an exciting place to be and to start the whole summer on my birthday made it even more special.

A bell was ringing from the kitchen porch to call us in to dinner.  Mother helped me with my shoes and father was carrying two dripping wet boys to the porch where he stripped off most of their clothes and handed them over to Helga.  

“I’ll take them upstairs to bathe ‘em and feed ‘em their supper in their room, sir,” she said as she moved them along ahead of her.

“Thank you Helga, and have a good evening,” he replied

Dinner was served on dishes that had a horizontal diamond shape with the word LAKE in the center of the diamond.  Kerosene lamps adorned the walls casting a warm glow on each table.  I could tell that Helga had helped cook the meal of ham garnished with cherry sauce, parsley red potatoes and asparagus when I saw her special hollandaise sauce on my plate.

After the meal father invited the kitchen staff and maintenance workers to come out and be introduced to the three families.  Our Helga was to be the head cook with Harriet and Clara as kitchen helpers.  Each of the others had brought along their husbands, Thomas and Peter, to be waiters and take care of maintenance.  Our Harold was to assume the barn chores and the gardening and take us to town in the buggy whenever we wanted.

The other two wives had already decided that mother, with her organizational skills, should be in charge of the help.  But I heard her whisper to my father that it was clear that they would be happy to give her plenty of advice along the way.

Soon Thomas was turning down the wicks of each wall lamp to a tiny flame.  The peace and tranquility was gone when I heard squeals from my brothers tumbling down the staircase in their night shirts, just in time for dessert.  In the corner of the room was a table top RCA Victrola with a large metal horn attached.  Clara was winding up the crank and music came drifting our way.

The kitchen doors swung open and once again The Chicago Club house staff entered, this time with a beautiful three tiered chocolate cake with pink fondant frosting holding up eleven birthday candles for me to make my annual wish upon.  Everyone sang joyously and I just sat there and smiled for the longest time.  Vanilla ice cream was served in footed glass dishes.  What a glorious day I have had. 

It was time for bed and everyone retired early, anticipating all the days ahead of us on our beautiful Diamond Lake – swimming, fishing, paddling and hunting for frogs, minnows and turtles.  A summer of sunshine, cool breezes and then a nap on the veranda with an occasional train whistle in the distance. So much fun was ached of us with our new lake families.  Oh, my!

More to come…

The rest of Jeannie’s eleven year old summer, exploring Diamond Lake.  Her mother sends postcards to friends, bought in village of Cassopolis, about their first years’ experiences which Harold and Helga read before taking them to town to mail.

Next, it is Jeannie’s sixteen year old summer at the lake and she gets involved with a boy from Howe Military School when their group is camping on the island.  Jeannie buys postcards in town to write to this young man throughout the winter. 

Finally, it is Jeannie’s eighteen year old summer, just after the downfall of the Chicago Club which disbanded due to squabbles between the families, the help and the partners. This led to the property turning into a hotel.  Jeannie returns as an eighteen year old as a hotel guest with Helga along as a chaperone.  

During this summer, Jeannie finds out more about the problems that led to the split between the three families, mostly through Helga and in talking to neighbors.  She also finds all the postcards that she had written to the boy from Howe somewhere in the hotel and she realizes they were never mailed when she gave them to her father to take to the post office in Chicago. 

Jeannie buys more postcards, now depicting the hotel called Forest Hall (the new name of the old Chicago Club House) to send to the girls from the other two original family owners to invite them back to the hotel that summer as well as the boy from Howe to rekindle all of these relationships.