Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: bookstores (Page 95 of 107)

The women and Jessie’s Girl.

Wow.

It’s something when just reading a headline can make your face turn hot from embarrassment. The article was on the Tulsa World website and reads:

Rick Springfield Sets Return Tulsa Trip

It could be that you’re in that group that has never heard of Rick Springfield. After all, it was about thirty years ago that he starred on the television soap opera General Hospital. In truth, he was a seasoned musician and fairly well known in his home country before he came to the US.

His song Jessie’s Girl hit #1 in 1981 at the same time he was playing the television role, and he found himself working TV scripts and touring concert arenas at the same time. I found myself in a concert arena in Tulsa sitting next to my wife, who was an avid General Hospital viewer and fan of Jessie’s Girl.

I had no idea what I was in for.

There had to have been plenty of other males there, but I sure felt like the only one. Maybe we were all shrinking back into seat cushion invisibility. On the other hand, the women all seemed to be leaping, shouting, and generally drawing attention to themselves. At least, that’s the way I remember it.

The song still gets played on occasion, but I haven’t heard it in some time. According to Jennifer Chancellor’s account in the World, the song enjoyed a revival in popularity when it was featured on Glee. I missed that one, too, but I’m happy for any 80’s-era rocker who can still sell tickets for casino performances and entertain crowds at age 63. Springfield played the River Spirit Event Center last year, probably boosted by the Glee promotion.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think Rick Springfield’s concert was horrible, necessarily. It was a matter of being in the midst of so many vocal fans and feeling out of place. There is sort of concert karma, though.

I got out of taking my daughter to the Backstreet Boys concert when they made a Tulsa appearance. I’m pretty sure I’d have felt a lot more out of place there.

In the meantime, any of you new or veteran Rick Springfield fans might enjoy his recently published memoir – Late, Late at Night – which came out in paperback last year and is ready for some reading, late, late at night.

Recorded History.

It is of questionable value and in its current condition it has little worth as a reference, but if this old tome could talk, what a story it could tell!

Jane Hall owned it. She inscribed her name and date just inside the front cover on October 19th, 1817. Likely she used a dip pen with a calligraphic-type nib to write:

Jane Hall Her Prayer Book

The volume is The Book of Common Prayer (although the complete title lists much more than those five words). Originally written in 1549, it contains a collection of prayers and rites used in the Anglican Church and was the first book written in English to contain daily and Sunday worship services. The black and charred appearance of the cover is the result of years of fireplace smoke rolling up over the mantle, where the book apparently rested when not in praying hands. Heat and smoke dries out book leather to the point that it eventually looks like it has gone through a house fire.

It is clear from the variance in the old ink that Ms Jane later made additional notes throughout the first three pages of the book. Regrettably, she did not record how those bearing the names were related to her, or where those listed actually lived. You can click on the image to see a larger version of her handwriting, penned with enough care that there are no cross-outs or do-overs.

I’m guessing the book was passed down through the family of Ms Hall, making its way across the Atlantic to the American frontier and eventually becoming orphaned somewhere near Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, where it is today. How it managed that expedition is the story I would love to hear.

Since the book is for the Anglican faith and was published at Leeds, England – my guess is that Ms Hall resided in the Old World at the time she acquired the prayer book. In addition, the names she wrote within the pages are surnames and spellings relatively uncommon in America. The first three notations recorded the birth dates of William, John, Jane, and Isabella Ovington, whose last name originated in the area of Northumberland, England. There is an English census record of the birth of an Isabella Ovington in Durham England in 1832, the name and matching date that Ms Hall noted in her prayer book. They could be the same person… who knows? In the 1840 US Census, there were only about five families named Ovington who made it into the official registry, residing in the states of NY and OH. By 1920, there weren’t very many more.

The other pages mark the births and deaths of individuals named Haigh, Hartley, Kyle, Bell, Holgate, and Baseter. There were about 25 Baseter families in the US by 1880 – again, a pretty scarce name with that spelling. Of course, Ms Hall could have been an atrocious speller, but she has a legible handwriting and must have spent some time at her book-larnin’.

The last recorded date marks a death in 1878.

Here is my best guess. Ms Jane was unmarried when she acquired the prayer book and inscribed her name inside. She probably married a Mr Ovington – most likely the John Ovington that is listed on the second page as having been born in 1798. The four other Ovingtons were in all likelihood their children, with births recorded between 1826 and 1832. The remainder of the names might well have been those of the spouses of her children – who knows?

The book might: if it could only tell its story.

The Season.

Someone confessed to me this morning that they knew well the story of A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens – but in fact, had never read it. The admission made me realize that nearly everyone surrounded by Western Culture would have been exposed to the tale since the earliest days of their childhood. Book-lover that I am, even I will admit that it is tougher to commit to reading a book when the outcome is already known, much less a story that can almost be recited from memory without ever having the book in hand.

In fact, A Christmas Carol is hardly a book, it is so short in length. It was one of Mr. Dickens holiday gifts to his readers, those who subscribed to the several newspapers he owned and edited during his lifetime. He published a number of seasonal stories, of which A Christmas Carol is the best known. Generally, the short-in-length Christmas tales are gathered together and published in a single volume.

Books that I have re-read over the years are very select, but I’ve gone back to dip into the Dickens’ well numerous times. It may be because he has so many characters in most of his books that it is easy to be re-introduced to them. Even those that might eventually become forgettable are distinctive as presented by Charles Dickens. I re-read A Christmas Carol last week, and enjoyed it just as much as the first go-through.

Most of the television, stage, and film versions that I’ve seen are faithful to the original. In all likelihood, it must be difficult to wander too far off the Dickens path where the story is concerned. It is told in very concise language, with little of the wandering that he allowed himself in his longer works.

Because of the brevity of the writing, each word carries a lot of power and significance. When I reached the part describing Mr. Scrooge’s discovery that he had completed his ghostly travels in a single night, I allowed myself to backtrack and re-read the passage, thoroughly enjoying the description of the old miser throwing open the windows on his first new glimpse of Christmas morning:

“Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!”

Reading the lines, I could almost feel the crisp, chill air on my own face.

Charles Dickens wrote the tale 169 years ago this Christmas, and it has been credited by some as changing the holiday itself from one of somberness and sobriety as it was observed in his day, to one of festivities and merriment with family and acquaintances as it is still proposed, for the most part.

It may be more difficult than ever to keep the sentiment of the Cratchit family in the face of the seemingly relentless and increasing-in-number Ebenezer Scrooges of our day.

And this is where all the modern-time scribes revert to Dickens to close out the article, essay, or blog, during the Christmas season:

“And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!”

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