Above, Dutch soldiers on the frontier with Belgium, George Grantham Bain Collection, Library of Congress
Begin with Chapter One ~ Return to Chapter Sixty-Nine
Andrew Stevens, October 1914
“I understand,” says Sheriff Tobin as he claps Mr. K on the back, “you had a wild adventure in Germany.”
“Much more than he anticipated,” says the Colonel. “Bullets riddling the automobile you’re driving does not fit any description of a relaxing vacation.”
Mr. K shakes his head. “We couldn’t set sail from Bremen, so we needed to cross into the Netherlands. There was a long line of automobiles at the border crossing, with little movement forward. Numerous automobiles were being turned back.”
“And you know how patient Otto is.” The Colonel winks at the Sheriff.
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Seventy”
Above, aftermath of the horrific explosion at the Southern Pacific Railyard. Photograph courtesy of Farrell Tucker, San Antonio Police History Archive.
Begin with Chapter One ~ Return to Chapter Sixty-Seven
Emma Bentzen Koehler, August 1914
A musical at the Casino Club with the Wahrmunds has been marked on their calendars for weeks, but Otto is devastated by the events of the day.
Emma cannot even remember the last time the two of them have eaten alone. The couple always has social engagements or is surrounded by members of their extended family, drawn into the couple’s unspoken conspiracy to avoid this very circumstance.
Otto wheels her out to the back veranda. Brilliant orange and rose streaks paint a gorgeous sunset on the west. But the sky in the east is shrouded by the thick, dark smoke continuing to billow over the spot where the roundhouse stood. Otto stands with his hand on her shoulder, staring at that cloud.
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Sixty-Eight”
There appears no name for it, the architectural jumble of styles combined in every building for several blocks surrounding a plaza with a frog fountain at its center. The Mister’s research unearthed this unexpected neighborhood for us in the upscale Parioli section of Rome.
Entrance into Quartiere Coppede is through a weighty arch, a massive wrought-iron chandelier at its center, linking two distinctive palatial towers. The frog-fountained Piazza Mincio is bounded by a cluster of structures combining elements of Art Nouveau, Art Deco, Baroque, Greco-Roman and Tuscan architecture, to name a view, along with frescos, mosaics, tile and sculptural details based on themes drawn from mythology, views of Florence, fairy tales, the animal kingdom and a fantasy land of gargoyles, again, to name a view.
Florence-born architect Gino Coppede (1866-1927) received a dream commission from a building association to design a planned community with a mixture of palaces and apartments that would appeal to professionals on the eve of World War I. The neighborhood was his architectural playground from 1913 until his death in 1927, and he let his imagination and love of fine craftsmanship intermarry with few defined restrictions.
Which led to his creation of residences earning monikers such as the Palace of the Fairies and the Palace of the Spider. His work must have appeared an outright assault against the stern, stark dictates for design taking root in Italy along with the post-war rise of fascism.
Well respected in his lifetime, Coppede taught architecture at several universities in Italy. The young proteges he influenced must have chafed to work within the fascist confines demanded for construction, rules that would prevent others from copying his work.
Although the “nouveau” Coppede neighborhood still commands high rents in Rome, the impact of his design was minimalized by waves of political storms. The distinctive decorative style appears to have remained his alone, ending with his death.