Midnight Assassin: A Murder in America’s Heartland by Patricia L. Bryan and Thomas Wolf

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

My holiday/vacation/part-time-employment-status reading blitz continues!

I was intrigued by this book from the moment I heard about it, not only because it takes place in Iowa (where I just moved) and on a farm (which is the way I grew up), but also because I discovered that I have a few small things in common with one of the authors, (namely that we both once lived and worked in the same small-ish town, and we graduated from liberal arts colleges located a stone’s throw from one another).

Anyway, in addition to having the true-crime hook, the story ends up being quite moving and creates a human picture of the alleged assassin, who, you begin to realize, was in many ways a victim. I appreciate the huge amount of work on the part of the authors’ having worked-in the social and historical research from the time, creating a rich picture of what life must have been like for people (especially farm women) involved in the story.

After the initial draw of the true-crime element, I did start to feel that, in the section of the alleged assassin’s trial, there was less of a hook-y mystery than maybe I had been hoping for. But it was still a compelling read.

And on top of the personal/local connections I mentioned above, it turned out that part of what inspired the research on this story was that it had been reported on (for a Des Moines newspaper) by a young woman who went on to become an award-winning author who was a contemporary of Eugene O’Neill–and she was from Davenport.
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But recently I read About Time, a collection of short stories by Jack Finney, who was well-known for writing about time-travel. Finney is also noted for being the writer upon whose work the movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers was based. (And that’s just one of many of his books or stories to be turned into films).

So, why would I stoop so low as to spend time reading about time travel and the like, you ask?

Well, it has to do with a place–a small Midwestern city–where both Finney and I spent some time (although for him it was in the Forties or Fifties and for me in the Aughts).

The ‘Burg Immortalized in a Book

Specifically, the second story in the collection celebrates the real-life town in which Finney lived when he was a college student, and in which I lived during my first few years after college: “I Love Galesburg in the Springtime.”

It turns out, the place–Galesburg, Illinois–hadn’t changed much in the time between Finney’s stay and mine. And it turns out that both of us loved the same things about the place: namely, the very real and tangible reminders of an earlier America.

Despite its rough edges, the neighborhoods that are riddled with violent crime, and its loss of major industrial mainstays (like the Maytag plant, which has stood empty since the company shipped jobs to Mexico in the early 00′s), Galesburg has so many charms–so many signs of a time of prosperity that are long gone, but not totally plowed down (unlike in so many other places).

The first and only time I’ve seen Invasion, for example, was at a special showing at the beautiful old Orpheum Theatre in downtown Galesburg, where it’s hard not to imagine a vaudeville show taking place. (According to one legend, it was in Galesburg that the Marx Brothers–Harpo, Groucho, etc.–were christened with their stage names while in town for a performance.)

And in this short story, Finney celebrates Galesburg as a specimen of history-come-alive, lamenting the way we as a nation tend to replace structures and streets of character with the drab and nondescript.

And as he tells the story about strange occurrences taking place in this prairie city–such as a ghostly cable car rattling down the street, long after such things were outmoded–he mentions so many of the real-life landmarks that are not only still in existence, but which I passed by or encountered nearly every day that I lived and worked the ‘burg:

Local spots named-dropped:

• Cedar Street– I lived on this street (in a fairly crap-tastic apartment) for five of the six years I lived in the town.
• The gorgeous, ostentatious homes built by railroad barons on Prairie, Cherry, etc. streets
• The Kensington, a former hotel that has been turned into an independent living facility, but which, in Finney’s day, was a fairly grand establishment
• The Register-Mail newspaper, (for which the narrator is a reporter, and for which yours truly was actually a real-life reporter)
• The Public Square
• the brick streets

…the references go on and on.

And not only did I enjoy reading his descriptions of such real-life places I had experienced, but, as I was reading, one of these places came to life and, you could say, landed in my lap.

Special Delivery

I purchased the collection of stories containing “I Love Galesburg” several years ago, when I was still living in Galesburg; I found it at a rummage sale in what I think might have been the basement of the Central Congregational Church). But I finally sat down to read the book recently. And when I opened it, something fell out:

newspaper clipping from Galesburg, IL

It was a clipping–somewhat dated, possibly from the 1970s–detailing the impending dedication of…a parking lot. And describing the once-famed structure that stood in its place.

I was already aware, because of my time writing and reporting in Galesburg, of the world- famous horse stables that had stood in the spot mentioned in this clip.

But when it fell from the book, the clipping felt like being visited by a small ghost of the past–tucked away by a person who, like the narrator of “I Love Galesburg in the Springtime,” lamented the loss of grand structures–and hand-delivered to me, in a way that Finney himself most assuredly would have appreciated.

As for the rest of the collection, truthfully, I was bored by some of the stories, and in others, I couldn’t help but cringe at the quaintness and dated-ness. (More than once, Finney’s depiction of women betrayed a Mad Men-treatment-of-office-girls sensibility).

But other times I identified deeply with his sense of nostalgia, his concern that, when we progress as a society, it’s often at the cost of losing something else that seems inherently more dignified somehow. (You can’t tuck clippings away inside a Kindle.)

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I took a photo of Ross’s sign awhile back because I liked the old diner style. It’s not too great of a shot, but it should give you some idea of what the place is like.

Palatial, eh? (More of my Flickr pics from area places here.)

In other presidential-visit ephemera:

Be sure to check out the luxury port-a-potties the are apparently presidential-worthy. And, (in what is surely the picture of the day) :

“Alcoa protester believes Obama is an alien.”

I haven’t tried to play this video myself yet, so forgive me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you can watch the full episode on the show’s web site.

If you’re like me, it’s always a bit exciting to see this little place we call home being discussed from the outsider’s point of view. As one friend put it, (a friend who, like me, is a lifelong resident of the region) :

 

“I still cant believe this was actually on tv. Fandon freakin IL was on the History Channel!”

 

Other than the Rock Island item on this year’s roster (a building used by the Elks Club), the closest place on the 2011 list is a bridge in Sangamon County.

(More, below the image).

Screen shot of Landmarks Illinois web site

A couple of places I’d like to add to the list, (or at least to a subcategory of places that need attention):

• The Macomb Maid Rite,
• The Randolph House on the Macomb Square,
• and what remains of the former Carthage College campus, (where the Circle K organization was started, among other historical tidbits).

So, what about you?

What other local landmarks in the general western Illinois region would you be sad to see destroyed?

List them below, or drop me a line.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I received a comment on my post from a former Macombie Homie who says he’d like to look into buying the building to see that it gets restored. How cool would that be?

I seemed to remember, from when I first noticed that the building was for sale, that some person or company I’d never heard of was the seller–someone who’d made a handmade For Sale sign (i.e., no Remax hot air balloon here). So, to try to help, I swung by the former diner on Monday and took this (snazzy) photo with my cellphone. And I have to say, from a marketing perspective, I’m a bit concerned with the, er, presentation. I couldn’t find a web site for said realtor, either.

But hey, at least I sent this former Homie the phone number. Let’s hope he’s got some extra funds sitting around!

If you haven’t, you should catch up here:

‘Book of Mormon’ opens on Broadway
(from CNN ‘Belief’ Blog)

That’s right; the South Park writers (who already took on Mormonism in an episode) have now written a Broadway musical about the religion. The article linked above summarizes the plot of the new production, as well as some of the thinking behind the writers’ motivations. And I have to say, I utterly and completely relate to this line of thinking:

Mormonism originated with Joseph Smith in upstate New York in the early 1800s. This not-so-distant past was attractive to the writers, [Avenue Q writer] Lopez told CNN, because they thought it added to the far-fetchedness of the religion’s claims that God had anointed Smith as an American prophet.

“A prophet who lived thousands and thousands of years ago in the Middle East is veiled in antiquity,” said Lopez. “But a prophet finding God’s word on golden plates just a few hours drive from New York City is ripe for satire.”

Also, if you’re curious about how the church feels about having its sacred beliefs turned into satirical song and dance, the article includes the LDS official statement—and I have to say, it sounds calm and rational.(However, one wonders if the church’s feathers will get increasingly ruffled as the play’s run continues, especially considering that one of the main characters, according to the article above, “succumbs to his doubts about faith and God after having the Book of Mormon stuck in a very uncomfortable part of his anatomy.” Ouch.)

But the real question, of course, is whether my beloved home stomping grounds—the tiny town with one blinking red light at the four-way stop—is mentioned anywhere in the script? For it was in Carthage, of course, that in 1844 a mob stormed the jail where Mormon leader Joseph Smith was incarcerated, and where he was shot and fell to his death.

With this high-profile production making headlines and perhaps becoming a legendary moment in the history of the Great White Way, stop to think about how funny and fascinating it is that the entire Mormon saga—the migration out west, the settling of Salt Lake City, in fact the very foundation of one of the world’s fastest-growing religions—wouldn’t exist as we know it without the chapter that took place in Carthage and Hancock County.

If I had been a co-writer with Matt Parker and Trey Stone, I would have tried to work in a line—or a whole song—about the holy site being located just catercorner from the DQ. (Feel free to help provide rhymes.)

Or who knows, maybe Carthage and Nauvoo are mentioned in the musical? I hope to find out five or six years from now, when an off-, off-, off-Broadway production plays in Peoria.

But then, at some point in the late 90s or earl 00s, (I believe), the museum moved to the old city hall building in Carthage. So now, not only is in a one-story building conveniently located across the street from the historic Carthage Jail, but it’s also bright and open  and easy to navigate, with all kinds of interesting displays, (including one about church history that I couldn’t help but pore over, since it contained a stained glass window and other items from the church where I grew up,  one of the oldest structures in the county). I’ve been meaning to write about this museum visit for months, but I keep getting sidetracked…sigh. So for now, here’s a link to the Kibbe blog. I was going to tell you all about how, with its displays on Carthage College, the Mormon Temple, etc., it’s now more of a history-of-the-area museum than a random-collection-of-strangeness.

However.

Yesterday, I learned from my hometown paper, The Hancock County Journal-Pilot, that the museum has recently acquired materials from the History of Funeral Customs in Springfield.

This caught my eye not because of the somewhat strange subject matter, but because I recognized the name of this museum from having read about it in a book called Assassination Vacation. In other words, the contents of a museum that caught the attention of one of my all-time favorite contemporary writers, Sarah Vowell (who also happens to be known for her distinctive voice), have been moved to my tiny hometown, of all places.

Wow.

Anyway, I’ve been wanting for a long time to write a post about how, as Chris and I and two friends toured last fall, Chris went from “why are you dragging me to this place” to “hey, can I have the car keys? I want to go get my camera out of the trunk.”

Here are some of his shots, from the museum’s displays on

• medical history,
• a faux general-store complete with checker-game in progress, and
• old-fashioned offices and mail delivery:

(You can see more of Chris’s photos from our photography adventures on his Flickr page.)

I’m sorry to say I’m never going to get around to that post I’ve been meaning to write about the Kibbe’s other intriguing elements–including the influx of Mormon visitors from all over the world. But if you’re from the area and, like me, become more aware of its rich history as you get older–or you’re new and looking for something to do– you should check out this lovingly curated, interesting conglomeration of stuff. Find hours and directions here.

If you’ve already been to the most recent incarnation of the Kibbe, please share your memories, thoughts, impressions below!

The field trip would be on foot rather than on-bus. Our destination was only a few blocks away from Lincoln School. (Actually it was across town, but in a town like Carthage, everything is just a few blocks away.)

It was liberating to be outside on that warm spring day rather than behind our desks. In a single file line, we trekked to the Kibbe Museum, a place that—in theory—was perfect for providing kids with an educational experience.

The museum, it turned out, was actually just a house, a two or three story white house that, on the outside, looked no different from any others in the neighborhood.

I am now aware, as an adult, that this place had been the home of Alice Kibbe, a renowned biology professor at the once-prestigious, but by then defunct, Carthage College. (Read more about the legendary Kibbe here). The place housed all of the  scientific and historical artifacts she had collected over the years.

But when our tour guide explained Mrs. Kibbe’s legacy to our little group, I was probably focused on other, more important things, like whether the boy I liked was ever going to ask me to skate with him. As we meandered through that dark, dusty place, I was more and more anxious for the last part of our trip, which was a visit to the Tastee Freeze across the street.

Suddenly, the boys at the front of our group were really interested in something—I heard “Cool!” and “Whoaa!”—and everyone was gathering around something the guide was showing. I made my way to the front, and sure enough, there it was: the thing Timmy Grissom had been teasing me about all week, but that I swore up and down he was just making up. After all, I was a farm girl and we had a farrowing house, so I knew there was no way such a thing could really exist.

But there it was, staring out for eternity: a two-headed baby pig, nightmarish in its murky formaldehyde bath.

There was a whole animal-fetus collection, I believe, but I’m sure I walked with my head down for the rest of the way so I wouldn’t have to look.

So perhaps I can be forgiven if, for many years after that, I thought of The Kibbe as a kind of carnival fun-house of creepiness.

Now, many years later, the museum is in a different location, is in its second or third incarnation as a tourist destination, and for the last decade has been a place I keep hoping to return to. And there’s a unique item at The Kibbe that helps drum up so much business, the place has been able to build up a strong stream of revenue. Hint: it has nothing to do with freaks of nature. Find out the answer and more in my next post.