Royal Wedding of Victoria Louise and Ernest Augustus, postcard from One Last Dance
Begin with Chapter One ~ Return to Chapter Forty-Seven
Andrew Stevens, July 1913
“Just hold your horses a minute, Otto,” pleads Sheriff Tobin.
“Hold my horses? Hold my horses?” Mr. K’s head appears poised to explode. “Your men seized 3,600 quarts of beer yesterday.”
“It’s not like we confiscated it from the brewery, Otto,” explains the sheriff. “That was beer you already sold.”
“Probably on account,” grouses Mr. K.
“Otto, you have to understand the pressure I’m under to enforce that damn new law the governor signed.”
John comes to Sheriff Tobin’s defense. “The first week of the 9:30 closing law barely made a dent in our sales, Otto. We’re capping 200,000 bottles of Pearl a day.”
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Forty-Eight”
Above, 1912 Cuero Turkey Trot, Francisco A. Chapa Family papers, UTSA Libraries Special Collections, The Top Shelf
Begin with Chapter One ~ Return to Chapter Thirty-Eight
Andrew Stevens, November 1912
“‘Personal antagonism,’” sputters John. “Bryan Callaghan must be rolling over in his grave. His reasons for renaming the park Waterworks were not petty.”
“Alderman Mauermann stuck to his ground, though,” adds the Colonel. “George Brackenridge’s gift to the city had more strings attached to it than a spider’s web. What good is a park with no way to access it?”
Mr. K’s grumpiness that this topic resurfaced at City Hall is obvious. “As big a proponent of parks as Alderman Lambert is, he sees the gift for what it was—a scheme to line George Brackenridge’s pockets. The city was hamstrung. Forced to buy property on River Avenue from him for an entrance to the parkland.”
John waves a hand dismissively. “A technicality. That’s a mere technicality according to Alderman Boynton. Says it’s poor grace to censure a benevolent donor simply because the city failed to notice the hitch at the time the gift of land was accepted.”
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Thirty-Nine”
Begin with Chapter One ~ Return to Chapter Seventeen
Andrew Stevens, February 1912
The Colonel holds up his folded newspaper. “It appears the so-called green fairy will cease to cast her intoxicating spell over Americans. That hellfire-and-brimstone Secretary of Agriculture is determined to ban the importation of absinthe. Men will no longer be able to seduce young women unaware that absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. The potent French frappé will no longer summon strange, swirling monsters to the bottom of a glass.”
Mr. K emits a snort. “While I have never taken a whiff of that stuff, banning it is wrong. Pros are like rats. A tiny chink in our wall, and in they will swarm, nibbling away at our rights. President Taft should have prevented his secretary from launching this clandestine attack. We send Adolphus Busch princely sums to hire people in Washington so things like this do not slip through the cracks.
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Eighteen”