One of the peculiar joys of being a historical writer is running down rabbit holes. Okay, maybe some people would prefer the term ‘psychosis.” But the fact remains, if you’re me, there’s no greater pleasure (okay, I admit it, no better excuse for procrastination) than trying to find the answer to the question, what would someone wear/drive/eat in a known historical situation.
This week was a case in point. I am just beginning the first draft of The Fairy Doctor, the sequel to The Horseman’s Word, and I was researching a minor point about my two heroines, Rose Adair, who is embarking on a career not unlike that of the famous nineteenth century art critic Anna Jameson, and Abigail Kincaid, who is modeled on the unbelievable success of Mary Mapes Dodge, who mapped an incredibly powerful career as the editor of St. Nicholas Magazine (as well being the author of Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates), all to pay for her sons’ education when she was widowed by her husband first abandoning his family in the wake of financial difficulties and then being discovered drowned.
The year is now 1867. Where would two respectable women meet to have a business discussion about Rose writing articles for Mrs. Kincaid’s magazine? My first thought was, of course, that ultimately respectable venue I only vaguely remembered from a few polite luncheons of my own childhood: Schrafft’s. Alas, that came thirty years too late. But the very site that informed me of my failure was a discovery in itself. Yes, there is a website called “Restauranting through History,” complete with a decade-by decade breakdown of milestones in restaurant history. It also included an elegant picture of the interior of one of the first Schrafft’s restaurants.
Trust me, I spent nearly an hour scrolling through Jan Whitaker’s deeply informed decade by decade historical breakdown of the restaurant trade in America – including, among other things, the advent of lunch counters in nineteenth-century New York City. All that could possibly be better was the reply (quoted with permission) that I received within in an hour of my querying her:
Hi, Erica,
Nice to hear from you. There were some places set aside for ladies — they allowed men to eat in them too but only if they were with a “lady.” A well known place was W. Taylor’s Ladies’ Restaurant and Confectionery at 555 Broadway. I’m not 100% sure it was in business in 1867; it may have begun in 1869. But it would be the type of place that attracted women who were unescorted as in your novel. Another possibility would be a hotel dining room. Hotels sometimes had separate rooms for women. I hope this is at all helpful. I don’t have much in the way of details. In general, it would likely be places that were confectionery/catering type restaurants. And it would be in the daytime, not after dark.
Best, Jan
Even before such an enticing reply, I found myself pulled down a rabbit hole of the historical connection between tea rooms and the incipient women’s movement of the nineteenth century – of which, the following is only a taste:
I was so excited by this piece of nearly forgotten history, that I thought about forwarding these stories to her – only to quickly discover that, not only was she cited in most of these articles, but her book, Tea at the Blue Lantern Inn: A Social History of the Tea Room Craze in America, is a seminal work that addresses the question, even including an explanation of why Nancy Drew’s choosing to lunch at tea rooms is in fact a bold feminist statement.
And so a quick check for background on a 500-word scene for a draft I’m writing on strictly NaNoWriMo rules (No Plot? No Problem?) became a delightful education in and of itself. Thank you, Jan Whitaker! (And, p.s., she’s pretty good on the history of department stores too.)
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