Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Irish (Page 79 of 112)

March of the Orange Barrels

As Granny Mamie would say: Ya canna keep Troubles from comin’ round, but ya needn’t offer ‘em a chair.

That pretty well sums up my feelings as the Rose District construction approaches the front door of the bookshop. As you can see in the image, the orange barrel invasion has swallowed all but the doorstep of my neighbor Jason’s – Main Street Tavern. The block just to the north is next.

That’s this place.

Probably next week, I’m thinking. A little bit of trouble, convenience wise, and comin’ round. But I’ve already brought the sidewalk bench indoors. Needn’t offer a chair. Speed things along.

Giving credit where due, the contractors have gone out of their way to accommodate the merchants as the construction progresses. When the last segment of sidewalk was all that was left down the street, workers kept at it all night so the chips & salsa, margaritas, and enchiladas could be served as usual when Fiesta Mambo opened the following day.

The most-asked question lately? Is the construction bothering your business? Well… I don’t think barricades, front-end loaders, jackhammers, and road-closed-signs are GOOD for business. There are some once-regular customers who had just found the shop at its new location whom I haven’t seen for a time.

The other side of that is – with a stop sign at every intersection – some folks are slowing down (and stopping hopefully) long enough to look around and notice the businesses in the area. The Main Street Expressway, where speeds regularly hit 45 to 55 mph (not an exaggeration), was not conducive to business. Too risky to take your eyes off the road or cell phone when a pesky pedestrian might step out to cross the street.

That’s my primary hope: that – once the construction troubles pick up and move along – the Rose District will be a little friendlier (traffic-wise) to shoppers and side-walkers. It would be great to have people cruise the business district like we used to do, styling and profiling, circling the loop between the Sonic and the A&W. (Different town, different era.)

There will be plenty of new things to see once the street-scaping project winds up. A couple of new buildings. Several new restaurants. There are already new shops settling in with the long-term residents. Half of one block is complete with newly-painted parking space lines. It’s going to be great, I just know it. The sooner they move in front of the bookstore, the quicker it will be finished. No sense fussing about it.

As Granny Mamie would say: You can’t drown your sorrows. They know how to swim.

Make some waves. Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main, Broken Arrow OK!

And That’s the Truth!

To tell the truth, Carlo Collodi didn’t know what he’d come up with. Carlo was responsible for a little boy who grew up to live a separate life from the poor man who raised him. The poor man was named Geppetto. The little boy was called Pinocchio.

The story that Carlo Collodi began writing in 1880 was Le Aventure di Pinocchio (The Adventures of Pinocchio, or Pinocchio’s Adventure). A new chapter was published in each new issue of an Italian newspaper designed for children’s reading. It was popular then and later the story took on a life of its own.

But it all happened after the author’s death.

From that late-1800s version followed countless variations and retellings. Of course, Carlo Collodi could never have known about Jiminy Cricket and the Disney classic.

I’ve always been fond of the pop-up books, and there have been quite a good number of various editions over the years.

The trouble with pop-ups is – they usually wind up popping-out. Energetic and enthusiastic young readers can rid a book of its usually-fragile pop-ups in a few readings. So, I was surprised when a 45-year-old kid’s book came into the shop with all the major pop-ups intact.

I had to try them out, of course. They are the videogames of my toddler-hood: no batteries required but plenty of on-page action. The best ones usually went first. They were the big, big pop-ups that could knock an unsuspecting kid’s head back, even if it was just from surprise.

My head snapped back a little when the whale popped-up, chasing down little Pinocchio. The story gets a little murky for me at that point. I think the hee-hawing donkey-boys on Lost Island always gave me such a fright that I developed an inability to lie.

Hee-haw!

Click on the image for a bigger whale bearing down on the marionette turned Live-boy, a story that took on a life of its own after the death of Carlo Collodi in 1890.

You can drop around $8-thousand for the 1892 First Edition in English. Or spend $6.95 for a handsome little 1968 model, pop-up.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 S Main St, Broken Arrow OK!

Alice Walton and the Preacher.

When the Lord called Sherman Merrill, it was usually Long Distance. And the first call came early. As a newly-married 22-year-old Sherman was already in His service, leading a congregation at Whitehall, New York, the same town where a fleet of vessels was built to confront the British during the Revolution.

As a result of that latter fact, Whitehall is said to be the birthplace of the US Navy. It certainly was the starting point of a long career for Sherman Merrill, son of Elam, son of Benjamin, son of the immigrant Nathaniel Merrill, who had come to America during colonial times. It was a small town, Whitehall, and still is – located across the state line from Vermont, where the twins Willie and Alice would later be born.

The son of a long line of farmers, Sherman took up the cloth and found his first flock and a home with his young wife Cordelia around 1850. Things were looking up.

But the Lord kept calling.

Baby Adalaide was just two when a church in Massachusetts needed a pastor, and it was a short two years later when an invitation came from a congregation in Vermont. By the time his mission brought him back to New York state and the birth of baby John, Sherman headed a family of seven. In 1860, the family resettled in Greenwich, New York, already an important – if secret – stop on the Underground Railroad that carried slaves to freedom from the American South.

Then came the war.

Pastor Merrill was older than some of his comrades-in-arms, but he again offered his services when volunteers were sought for a troop of up-staters. The 177th New York Infantry marched down from New York to New Orleans, Louisiana to join the 3rd Brigade serving under General Sherman.

They took part in skirmishes at McGill’s ferry and Pontchtoula. 23 of Chaplain Merrill’s fellow volunteers lost their lives during the siege at Port Hudson. 149 others died of disease. Still, he never lost his faith.

When the war ended, Merrill rejoined his family and relocated them to Wisconsin, a move that was little more than a layover on their way to Gallatin, Tennessee. The Major was invited by a congregation in that city to head their Methodist Episcopal church. Cordelia Merrill, who spent her life raising children and keeping house for Pastor Merrill, left the family behind when she was buried in the Gallatin Cemetery.

Remarriage was common, particularly when there were young children in the home. And that brings us to the point of this little story.

Sherman Merrill married John Walton’s daughter, Susan, a girl half his age. Together they had three daughters – one of whom they named Alice – who grew into an artist who loved to read. Alice signed her name in a book that landed in the bookshop yesterday. You may recall there is an Alice Walton who is the tenth richest American. The daughter of Sam the Walmart man. I wondered if there was a connection.

There wasn’t.

Which presented the question: How did a copy of The Methods of Lady Walderhurst by Frances Hodgson Burnett (she also wrote The Secret Garden, from which a movie was made) – how did the book get to Broken Arrow from Gallatin, Tennessee?

As it turns out, it was by way of another New York native. Dr Les A. O’Brien found Alice in Tennessee, married her, and moved to the Indian Territory to open his practice. Tulsa was a booming community and the draw was strong enough that the in-laws packed up and moved west to join Dr and Mrs O’Brien. Later, Dr. O’Brien wound up moving his offices up the road to Skiatook, but the Waltons remained in Tulsa.

South of town, near Muskogee, a family named Clinton married into the Creek Nation and did well enough on their ranch that they opted to build a big place on the hill in Tulsa. Dr Fred Clinton and family made their home near 13th and Boulder while brother Lee constructed a mansion a half-mile to the west. His house sits there still, completed in 1913 at 1322 South Guthrie and now sitting on the National Register of Historic Properties.

Alice Walton Merrill’s sister Susan lived there. She had married Mr. Clinton, a banker of some note, and already a driving force in the growing city.

Alice and her sister Susan were included in the 1914 Who’s Who in America, which made note of their artistic and philanthropic works and identified them as belonging to the Methodist Episcopalian church.

Which did their daddy Pastor Sherman proud.

The book?

It’s a First Edition copy from 1901. A little threadbare – even for a 100+ year-old. Not so valuable as a result.

But it tells a tale all its own.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street

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