Friday, March 12, 2010

Stories My Mother Gave Me

I grew up in Lake Worth, a tiny dot on the South Florida map, south of West Palm Beach, and west of the magical isle of Palm Beach. West Palm was created by Henry Morrison Flagler in the late 1800s for the workers who built the crown jewel of his empire: Palm Beach. 

Flagler was an eccentric railroad tycoon who masterminded the Florida East Coast Railroad, the first overseas railroad that ended in the tiny island bastion of Key West. Unfortunately, this railroad also ended in disaster after losing a harrowing battle with the hurricane of 1935. The remains of that railroad can still be seen on the drive down the Florida Keys, that is if you are not actually driving on the railroad bed itself.

Flagler also developed the nineteenth century equivalent of modern day Sandals getaways in the Florida cities of St. Augustine and Palm Beach. Eccentric is a kind word for a man who, after the death of his first wife, chose to marry an extremely young woman.
As a Lake Worth native, I have my sources. Growing up in a tiny town compared to the magnificent city of the gods known as Palm Beach gives a person a certain perspective and valuable insider/outsider knowledge. 

I was always aware that I did not live on Palm Beach. I say “on” because it is an island. I lived on the mainland. Anyone not living on the island aspired to be on the island as much as possible and would do anything to achieve that goal. That included selling clothes in the shops on Worth Avenue, waiting tables in the many fine restaurants on the island or modeling clothes for international haute couture designers with storefronts on the "avenue". To me, Palm Beach was always a place to explore, nothing more.
During the season, my mother was employed part time by Saks Fifth Avenue. She woke up,  got dressed in ordinary clothes every day, left my brother and I with our housekeeper and drove to Worth Avenue to work.

She modeled the latest of Saks' New York and French fashions during afternoon lunch at the famed and infamous Everglades Club. Once the scented perfume of Palm Beach had filled her lungs, she became obsessed and mesmerized by the island's allure. 
Between the hours of 11 and 3, the lunching hours of the rich and famous Everglades Club members, my mother and several other aspiring models strolled gracefully and unobtrusively around linen covered tables set with silver and crystal. A Saks director explained each outfit and the models discretely showed attached price tags to anyone who bothered to ask.
Bits and pieces of my mother's outfits came home with her. Some were paid for outright, others pilfered from clothing and shoes strewn across the floor of the first floor dressing rooms. As an accomplished seamstress, she was able to create exact copies of the clothes she modeled during the week. For the rest of her life, clothing and fashion were her favorite vices.

My mother's design obsession required multiple trips each week to Sally’s Fabrics, a sewing and material Mecca for Lake Worth shoppers. The center of our town consisted of two streets that went opposite ways. Lake Avenue had the best antique stores and galleries and continued over the bridge to the beaches of South Palm Beach. Lucerne boasted the best dress shops and secret dining nooks. These were the places my mother was drawn to whenever we were downtown.
I was never interested in sewing, antiques or clothes. I was a reader. My own personal Lake Worth Mecca was its elegant public library. Built of marble with high ceilings and antique wooden furniture that looked like it had come from the Spanish Inquisition, it was my favorite place in all the world. 

In this literary mausoleum, varnished teak newspaper poles were attached to the latest Lake Worth Herald and West Palm Beach newspapers. The poles enabled the elderly news mongers to read them without actually holding the messy newsprint in their hands as they perused the current news. It also saved them 10 cents.
On my frequent visits, I made my way around the old men who always smelled like cigar or cigarette smoke and headed for the Young Adult Literature. By the time I was twelve, I'd read almost every book in the entire section. The stories I read transported me from an ordinary world to wonderful lands of adventure, heroism and romance. The books I read while growing up created an avid interest in research and writing. My mother's colorful life gave me an unlimited and unending source of stories. She always encouraged me to write. She confidently sent me to the best schools she could afford where she knew I would eventually find my way to becoming the person I wanted to be. For her generosity, her sense of adventure and her lust for living, I will always be grateful.
This story is dedicated to my mother, Elizabeth Carol Nunemaker Hubman Gammons Grill Allen, a strong, charismatic woman with many husbands and a multitude of talents. For me, she will always be forever young.

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