The Black Dress Traveler

My Beautiful Bronx

My Grandmother's old building, 930 Grand Concourse, peeks through the trees of Joyce Kilmer Park.

All Photographs by Glenn Mann.

Thanksgiving Eve found me in one of my most treasured places in the world – 163rd Street and the Grand Concourse. Yes, the legendary, some might even say infamous, South Bronx.

I felt a familiar thrill from childhood when the 4 train abruptly escaped the confines of being underground and burst like a supercharged rollercoaster onto the elevated tracks at 161st St  and River Avenue. As the familiar silhouette of Yankee Stadium loomed from behind the station walls, it took all of my energy to contain myself. Memories came flooding back. How many times as a little girl did I take that subway ride? How many hours over the years had I stood on that seasonally sweltering or freezing platform waiting for the train to take me from the Bronx to the City, as we called Manhattan?

Pinstripe Blues: The Original Yankee Stadium

 

Statue in Joyce Kilmer Park

Maybe I am suffering from a classic case of  good old days nostalgia. I haven’t lived in the Bronx in 20 years and even though it is a short subway ride from my home in Harlem, I don't get to visit very often.  But I have vivid memories of jumping Double Dutch in front of my Grandma’s old building 930 Grand Concourse, eating coconut ices in Joyce Kilmer Park, and clumsily flirting with boys outside Yankee Stadium.

The Grand Concourse really does live up to it’s name. Expansive, elegant and lined with Art Deco buildings, this tree-lined boulevard is known as the Champs Elysees of the Bronx.

 

Blue Skies Over the Grand Concourse

All of the accompanying photos of the old neighborhood were shot by my brother Glenn. If you’ve never been to the Bronx or only go for baseball games, you are missing out.  Click here for a great walking itinerary of the Bronx that recently appeared in Time Out.

The Forgotten Paris Journal

Confession: I am the world's worst keeper of journals.

Now, this was not always the case. As a teenager every crush, every heartache, every insecurity and even the triumphs were thoroughly documented in special notebooks.  But as an adult I have become more guarded. That must sound strange coming from a blogger but for some reason I have a very hard time pouring my heart out to myself on paper. Yet, I still feel that old pull and any trip to Barnes & Noble usually ends with me buying a new and special notebook that I just know will have the magic needed to lead me back on the path to keeping a journal.  It usually goes well for three days. I get intoxicated with that writer's rush and I write until my fingers are numb. And then, suddenly, I stop. 

But when I least expect it, those beautiful and almost blank notebooks appear out of nowhere. They hide quietly in lingerie drawers and bookcases for years and then, bam, they fall back into my llfe. Tonight I was searching for a decent piece of stationery to write a note to a friend when another one of those sleeper journals made a surprise appearance. I hesitated before opening the book. Would I find recollections of a happy time in my life? The happy scribblings of a woman in love? Or would I encounter words of heartache and mourning?

I turn to the first page. "January 17, 2007. Ooh la la. I returned from Paris on Monday evening and still feel a bit worn out."

Despite the fact that I actually wrote "ooh la la", this sounds promising.

   

Paris may be behind me but I think my eyes are closed because I am dreaming of the adventures ahead.

Had my trip to Paris, my first and thus far only trip to Paris, been almost 2 years ago?  So much has been written about Paris, the City of Lights, what can I say that you don't already know? Paris is beautiful. Paris is sexy. Paris is intoxicating and maddening. Paris reminds every woman that she is the star in the movie of her life and the City provides the perfect set, sounds and supporting cast.

In my forgotten journal I had jotted down some of my favorite moments from my 3 day whirlwind visit to Paris.

• Drinking a Kir Royal in the gallery at the Hotel Georges V
• Getting surprised by the Eiffel Tower light show as I walked down Avenue Montaigne

• The smell of the fruit at Hediard

 

• Sitting at Cafe Select like Hemingway

I will be the first to admit that these remembrances of Paris are not groundbreaking, and perhaps, even a little corny. But they made enough of an impact for me to write them down. As mundane as these memories are, I do know why these tiny little moments mattered to me. I won't share all of my secrets but the Cafe Select was so special because it figures prominently in one of my favorite Hemingway books, "The Sun Also Rises." That book is a central character in a very transformative time in my life.

Discovering these forgotten memories of Paris makes me wonder how many other special little moments have slipped away from me because I did not honor them by putting pen to paper. Maybe reading those words now would not only help to remind me of where I've been but also how I arrived where I am. 

Damn, it looks like I will be buying another journal.

Too Shiny & New, New York?

With new high rises, boutiques and restaurants appearing on every corner and  too often replacing long-time neighborhood fixtures, sometimes New York can feel, well, too new. What New Yorker hasn't tsk-tsk-tsked in righteous indignation over the loss of a beloved coffee shop that has been usurped by a smug frozen yogurt boutique? 

Can you really feel at home if everything is shiny and new? Don't get me wrong, I love the excitement generated by positive additions to the New York City lifestyle. And, I am absolutely not one of those people who gets all nostalgic in a creepy way about the sleazy sex and drug culture that used to pervade Times Square like a foul patchouli.  That was not New York's finest hour. While many things have improved, too many pockets of the Big Apple have been "Disneyfied." There has to be a happy medium between Minnie Mouse and Deep Throat. 

Perhaps the chilly weather and shaky economy have compelled me to ignore the trendy and embrace the tried and true. I find comfort in New York institutions that have stood the test of time. Although it feels good to know that these places are standing their ground, I realize that their existence can't be taken for granted in this here-for 50 years, gone-tomorrow climate.

 Birdland and Lever House both greeted me warmly even if I felt a bit embarrassed at visiting both of these legendary spots for the first time.  They shrugged, as if to say, " We knew you'd come around."

Posh and modern, the soup was hot and the cookies were warm at Lever House. The gracious staff didn't even kick us out when we lingered an hour past the end of lunch service.  The jumping jazz and chilled cocktails at Birdland were the perfect antidote to a stressful day. Surrounded by out-of-towners from all corners of the globe, Birdland showed me that tourist and trap don't always go hand-in-hand.  Tourists  sometimes have more enthusiasm and appreciation for those classic New York spots that we just don't pay much attention to anymore.

In the same week, I visited one of my favorite places in the entire world - the Metropolitan Museum of Art. My Dad took me there for the first time when I was 10 years old and it was love at first sight. The familiar surroundings at the MET comfort me like a favorite cashmere sweater but exploring the new exhibitions makes me fall in love all over again.

 

New York has always been a brilliant blend of glam and grit. Without both, it just isn't New York. I love leaving a fancy cocktail party and grabbing a falafel sandwich from a street car vendor. Despite my best efforts, more often than not I drip sauce on my dress - one of the hazards of eating while strolling.  But it's so tasty I don't really care.  This is the messy magic of New York.

Beyond the Wind: Charm & Change in Clayton County, Georgia

The Virginia Reel Deal

 

Dancers in period costumes at Stately Oaks Plantation

Slightly dizzy, I catch glimpses of pretty belles in hoop dresses coyly sipping peach punch as my partner spins me around the candlelit room.  Dressed in the dapper attire of a Southern gentleman of the 1860’s, he is patient with my clumsy efforts to master that most proper of Victorian party dances, the Virginia Reel. We do-si-do across the wooden floors of the old one room schoolhouse that shares the grounds of the appropriately named Stately Oaks plantation house. I find it impossible to completely focus on the dance.  The sound of my own neurotic voice in my head drowns out the sound of the live banjo music. What the hell am I doing? Why in the world is a New York born, African-American woman and descendent of Southern slaves, partying like it’s 1860 at a plantation in Clayton County, Georgia?

My Mother’s Georgia

Like many African-Americans in their 30’s, I have reaped the benefits of the Civil Rights movement of the 1960’s although I contributed absolutely nothing to the cause. I was not even a thought in my parents’ minds when Dr. King was marching throughout the South for freedom but my life has been indelibly shaped by the actions of those brave men and women that put their lives on the line for equality. I was born in New York City but I always state that I grew up in a very Southern household.

My Mom migrated to New York City from Georgia as a teenager and my Dad from North Carolina. Our household was in the heart of Manhattan but the soul of our home was Southern. From the foods we ate to the occasional spankings I received, my parents had left the South but the imprint of their upbringing remained.  Having endured segregated schools and countless indignities in the South, my parents cherished the freedoms of New York City but remained true to the core family values that had made it possible to survive during those dark times. 

So imagine my Mom’s surprise when I told her that I would be spending 3 days in Clayton County, Georgia, which bills itself as “The Official Home of Gone with the Wind.”

“Why, are you going there? Be careful, it’s still the South,” she firmly stated.

Be careful. Those words rang in my ear. Did I really have to be fearful of the South? After all, I kept hearing about the new South.  Atlanta, in particular, was a mecca for Black professionals, students and celebrities.  But I would not actually be staying in the city of Atlanta.  Would traveling a mere 15 minutes south on Interstate 75 to Clayton County transport me into a twilight zone of colored only drinking fountains and second class treatment?
 
All Roads Lead to Tara

 

Exhibition at The Road to Tara Museum

I checked-in to my comfortable room at the Comfort Suites in nearby Stockbridge and began my exploration of Jonesboro.  No trip to Jonesboro would be complete without a visit to The Road to Tara Museum which celebrates all things Gone with the Wind.  Written in 1936 by Margaret Mitchell, this epic Civil War novel was made into an equally epic movie in 1939 starring Vivian Leigh and Clark Gable. Let’s be honest - many Black people are not big fans of Gone with the Wind and the film evokes a range of emotions from sadness to anger. Gone with the Wind focuses on the lives of the white slave-owners and the Black characters only purpose in life is seemingly to joyfully serve their masters.  Did Hollywood really think that we would get excited about a film that perpetuated the myth that Blacks enjoyed slavery?

With this in mind, I enter the Road to Tara Museum with some trepidation. Jonesboro was chosen as the site for the museum because Margaret Mitchell drew inspiration for her Pulitzer Prize winning book from her hometown. Her family, the Fitzgeralds, had owned a plantation in Jonesboro and as a little girl Mitchell spent a great deal of time hearing first hand accounts of the Civil War.  (Or the War of Northern Aggression, as it is sometimes referred to in the Southern states.) However, the plantation named Tara that Mitchell wrote about does not exist and never did. Tara was inspired by reality but was a fictional portrayal of a plantation home.

A small museum, many of the objects at the Road to Tara came from the personal collection of local collector Herb Bridges.  I actually had the opportunity to lunch with Mr. Bridges at the lovely Pinehurst Tea Room in Stockbridge.  A charming gentleman of a certain age, Mr. Bridges grew up in rural Georgia and is a former mail carrier. While sipping sweet tea and dining on salad, Mr. Bridges told me that his comprehensive collection had started simply enough with a signed first edition copy of the Gone with the Wind.  Years later, Bridges had amassed a collection so impressive that it made $350,000 at an auction at Christies. 

Hello Hattie

 

Hattie Over My Shoulder

Visitors to the Road to Tara Museum can view painstakingly accurate reproductions of the film’s costumes (including the famous curtain dress), copies of the various international editions of the book, and other memorabilia. During my visit, the Museum was featuring an exhibition that showcased Hattie McDaniel.  The first African-American to win an Oscar, McDaniel played the role of Mammy in Gone with the Wind. Boisterous, big-boned and asexual, Mammy’s world revolved around Miss Scarlett – getting her dressed, feeding her, and mildly reprimanding her for her bratty ways. Criticized by many African-Americans for her participation in Gone with the Wind, McDaniel replied, “I would rather play a maid than be one.”  Be that as it may, surely McDaniel must have felt angry and hurt when the racism of the day forbade her from participating in the televised Academy Awards.  Instead, she had to receive her accolade at a separate luncheon. The exhibition includes a stunning and bittersweet photograph of Ms. McDaniel, dressed to kill with a flower in her hair and smiling radiantly on the day she received her Oscar. I leave the Road to Tara Museum with mixed feelings but appreciative of the opportunity to learn more about Ms. McDaniel. Her road was not an easy one to travel. The Road to Tara Museum reminds me that history is not always pleasant but should not be forgotten.   Stepping out into the sweet Georgia sunshine, I take a deep breath and leave Tara behind. 

Change You Can See

Have things changed? Now more than ever, change has become a buzzword in our country. Barack Obama is the first African-American to receive the nomination of a major party for President of the United States. Obama delivered his acceptance speech at the 2008 Democratic Convention on the 45th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. With eloquence and passion, in 1963 Dr. King wished for an America where a man would be judged by the content of his character and not the color of his skin.  In Jonesboro, I saw people of all colors, lined around the block to place their early vote for the next American President.  In this small Southern town, in a state that had seceded from the Union over the peculiar institution of slavery, Blacks and Whites had the option and the right to cast their vote for a Black man.  On November 4th, Barack Obama, won the popular vote and the electoral college and was elected the 44th President of the United States of America. Change, indeed.

Of Hot Dogs and Icons

  Holy Hot Dog! The Varsity in Downtown Atlanta

(photo courtesy The Varsity)

Georgia and good hearty eating go together like biscuits and butter. I hopped right in the car when 2 of my colleagues suggested heading into downtown Atlanta for hot dogs at the legendary Varsity. No one seemed to care that we had just finished gorging on delicious deep-fried goodness at the Chick Fil-A.  The world’s largest drive-in, the Varsity opened in 1928 and can accommodate 600 cars and over 800 people inside.  As a young man, comedy legend Nipsy Russell worked at the Varsity as a car-hop.  We enter the Varsity and I am speechless at the size of the place. I was expecting a humble hot dog stand but the Varsity is a veritable wiener arena. Really, you could hold a football game in this place.  People of all ages and colors are eating and conversing.  Reading the pamphlet that provides a glossary of the Varsity lingo, I can’t help but smile when I see that even a humble hot dog is not immune from the Civil War -   a frank with mustard is listed on the menu as a Yellow or Yankee dog. 

Standing in line, I notice that the profile of a man standing in front of me looks vaguely familiar. Where have I seen that face? Finally, he turns just-so and it becomes crystal clear that it is the former Mayor of Atlanta, first African-American Ambassador to the United Nations, and Civil Rights pioneer Andrew Young.  I am stunned. Just yesterday, I was transfixed by an exhibition at the National Archives in Morrow, Georgia that included a photo of Dr. King and Andrew Young marching together in Birmingham in 1963. 

    

Andrew Young and Dr. King

In a room with many empty tables, I was beyond thrilled when Andrew Young chose to sit at the table right next to ours. We politely exchanged greetings. Being so close to such an iconic figure from the Civil Rights movement felt like a positive omen for the rest of my trip.  Truly, my journey to Georgia, and the other places I have traveled without hesitation, were made possible not only by my desire to do so but because brave individuals like Mr. Young fought inequality and made it possible for African-Americans to experience life without limitations. I looked at my two dining companions, both white males, and smiled inside. We were simply colleagues, peers and friends enjoying some laughs and a bite to eat. Our ease together made it hard to believe that there was a time in this country that we could have been arrested, or worse, for seeing beyond color.

Back at the hotel in Stockbridge, I stretch out on the bed and close my eyes.  One hand on my stomach and the other on my forehead, I feel full all over. My tummy is bursting from the fried chicken sandwich and hot dog chaser I had greedily indulged in. My head is about to explode with all that I had experienced.  More than anything, I feel conflicted about the next event on my itinerary – dinner at Stately Oaks Plantation.

Plantation Apprehension

  Stately Oaks Plantation

Plantation. I hate that word. For me it conveys images of sweaty and bedraggled slaves picking cotton, beatings by heartless overseers, and weary Black families in ramshackle cottages far from the grandeur of the big house trying to make a delicious meal of scraps.  Yet, I came to Clayton County to directly encounter the past, not just read about it, so a visit to Stately Oaks is a must.

Located in the Margaret Mitchell Historical Park in Jonesboro, Stately Oaks is an 1839 Greek revival antebellum home.  On a superficial level, the home is absolutely lovely and exudes country charm.  Sharing the property is the last one-room schoolhouse used in Clayton County and Juddy’s Country Store where you can purchase Moonshine Jelly, local honey and ice-cold bottles of Coca-Cola from a vintage cooler. Walking the dusty grounds, I imagine the steps that my ancestors on other unknown plantations had taken before me. While they were forced to work the land, I was here as a guest to enjoy dinner and entertainment. Were the ancestors angry? Or would they be happy to see one of their own being treated as an equal? Didn’t their unpaid labor and blood, sweat and tears make Stately Oaks, and every other plantation in the South, also a part of my cultural inheritance?  Hesitating for a moment at the threshold, I step inside Stately Oaks. Volunteers from Historical Jonesboro are decked out in authentic costumes and lead visitors though the rooms. I can’t help but admire the simple elegance of the décor – peach colored window treatments, an impressive walnut canopy bed, precious wooden crib, and even a sublime wedding dress from the era.

Scarlett, Melly, Margaret & Dr. Smith

Melly Meadows channels Scarlett O'Hara

While all of the re-enactors are superb, it is Scarlett O’Hara the steals the show. Jonesboro native Melly Meadows has toured the world portraying Scarlett and she brilliantly captures Vivian Leigh’s essence in both appearance and demeanor.  Dolled up in a fetching white dress and dramatic red cape, in true Scarlett fashion she reprimands me for showing my ankles, a definite no-no for a Southern lady of her time.  Of course, during Scarlett’s time, we wouldn’t be partying together!

After we shared a hearty meal of fried chicken, black-eyed peas, biscuits, and peach cobbler catered by local favorite Gina’s Restaurant, Scarlett/Melly stands up and takes us back in time.  A truly gifted storyteller, she painted a picture of Margaret Mitchell that was unknown to most. While everyone knows that Mitchell is the creator of Gone with the Wind, most people don’t realize that in her own life she made significant contributions to improve the lives of African-Americans.

Margaret Mitchell, author of Gone with the Wind

In 2002, Mitchell’s estate contributed $1.5 million to Morehouse College – a prestigious historically Black academic institution for men. However, Mitchell’s ties to the Black community go back much further.  Scarlett/Melly had my undivided attention when she shared how Margaret Mitchell was kicked out of the Atlanta junior league for volunteering with the city’s Black clinics. It also turns out that Mitchell was the benefactor of Dr. Otis Smith, the first African American to be certified as a pediatrician in Georgia. As a student at Meharry Medical College, Smith worked numerous jobs to pay for his education but he ran out of money the first year. Reluctantly, he told the President of the school that he had to leave as a result of his dire financial situation.  Smith was advised by the President not to worry. Shortly thereafter, Smith was told that his tuition and living expenses had been paid. 35 years later, Dr. Smith found out that Margaret Mitchell had paid for his entire medical education. It was later revealed that Mitchell had made similar anonymous scholarships to 40-50 other Black students in her lifetime. Dr. Smith passed away in 2007.  Not only was he a physician but a past president of the Atlanta chapter of the NAACP and founding member and chairman of the Margaret Mitchell House and Museum. Yes, a Black man ran the organization committed to preserving the legacy of the author of Gone with the Wind.  Powerful. It demonstrates that the personal connections that we forge as humans can triumph over conventional wisdom and prejudices.

Dr. Otis W. Smith, Founding Member Margaret Mitchell House & Museum

Nothing to Fear

My three days in Clayton County have come to an end and I am reminded of my mother’s words. Be careful, she had warned.  Instead of fear, I feel empowered and encouraged. Spending time with the past filled me with a tremendous sense of gratitude for my life today.  But my visit was more than a trip down memory lane - Clayton County is modern, vibrant and bustling. The arts scene in particular can’t be ignored. Spivey Hall, located on the campus of Clayton State University, is an elegant and acoustically perfect 392-seat gem that draws diverse musicians of international renown.  The Arts Clayton Gallery on South Main Street in Jonesboro is a thriving example of how the community is committed to preserving the past while celebrating change and diversity.  Before its dazzling transformation in 2004, the gallery’s previous incarnations included a Pure gas station and a featured appearance as the warehouse location in the 1976 film Smokey and the Bandit.  Four murals on the side of the building chronicle key moments in Clayton’s history but inside the Arts Clayton Gallery exhibits and sells fascinating art created by Georgia artists of all backgrounds.  Looking ahead, Patrick Duncan, the charming and visionary President of the Clayton County Convention & Visitors Bureau is excited about long term plans for a multi-cultural center in the county that will highlight the African-American, Native American and immigrant experience.

Spivey Hall

Arts Clayton Gallery

Everyone speaks of Southern hospitality and I was certainly greeted warmly and fed well.  But I would also like to acknowledge Southern adaptability. Change, even when it is for the best, ain’t easy. Yes, Clayton County does embrace their Gone with the Wind past.  More than just a draw for tourists, Margaret Mitchell’s tale of the South is a part of history and always will be.  Not everyone wants to follow the Road to Tara, but Clayton County is also forging a new path that values and acknowledges the important contributions of those who were too often forgotten. That’s a road I want to travel.

Helpful Clayton County Websites

Clayton County Convention and Visitors Bureau and The Road to Tara Museum
www.visitscarlett.com

Melly Meadows
www.mellymeadows.com

Chick-Fil-A
www.chick-fil-a.com

Pinehurst Tea Room
www.pinehursttearoom.com

The Varsity
www.thevarsity.com

Stately Oaks
www.historicaljonesboro.org

Art Clayton
www.artsclayton.org

Spivey Hall
www.spiveyhall.org

National Archives of the Southeast Region
www.archives.gov/southeast

Georgia Archives
www.sos.georgia.gov.archives

Comfort Suites (Stockbridge)
www.comfortsuites.com

Southern Surprise: Sexy & Soulful St. Augustine

Matanzas Bay Sunset

(photo courtesy St. Augustine Record)

What’s a girl to do when Spain fills her dreams but there is no time to cross the Atlantic? Pack a weekend bag full of sexy frocks and sashay down to St. Augustine, Florida!  America’s oldest city, St. Augustine, is a sophisticated cocktail of old-world Spain and Southern hospitality right in the United States.  Located just one hour from Jacksonville, St. Augustine is easy to reach and oh-so-easy to love. Simply chic, St. Augustine is a perfect getaway for a diva in need of a time-out or a couple looking to recharge their romantic batteries.  Take a sunrise walk along Matanzas Bay, hop the trolley to visit the attractions, explore narrow cobblestone streets, indulge in down-home and gourmet cuisine, and maybe even share your lodgings with an elusive ghost.

History in a Dixie Cup 

   

The Fountain of Youth

Founded 42 years before Jamestown and 55 years before the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, St. Augustine is the oldest permanent European settlement on the North American continent.  First discovered by explorer Don Juan Ponce de Leon in 1513, St. Augustine was officially founded when Spanish admiral Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles landed at the Timucuan Indian Village of Seloy on August 28, 1565 – the Feast Day of St. Augustine.

Aviles may have named St. Augustine but Ponce de Leon is perhaps the bigger celebrity thanks to his eternal connection with the Fountain of Youth. (Just goes to show that obsession with youth is nothing new!) One of the biggest attractions in St. Augustine, Ponce de Leon’s Fountain of Youth is a winning combination of history, folklore and natural beauty.  Feeling connected to the past is unavoidable as you stand just a breath away from the very spot where Ponce de Leon claimed the land for Spain with a cross made of stones embedded in the ground. Gurgling quietly near the cross are the famed waters of the Fountain of Youth. 

That Magic Water

Is there something magical in the water? I drank three cups just in case. One of the staffers at the Fountain of Youth whispered to me that many of the long time workers do really believe that the water keeps them healthy. Sure, the water is slightly sulfurous and a little cloudy but that’s a small price to pay for the possibility of eternal youth! And how often do you get to actually taste history? The Fountain of Youth is truly a multi-sensory location where the sights, sounds, and aromas make it easy to feel the past.  If you want to incorporate the Fountain of Youth into your daily beauty regimen, the gift shop sells the water filtered by the bottle. 

Ghosts Check In and Never Check Out

St Francis Inn Exterior

Photo Courtesy St. Francis Inn

There is a very good reason why St. Augustine is known as the Most Haunted City in America.  Ghosts are made to feel very welcome in this town so why would they choose to live anyplace else?  You can try to connect with some of the city’s supernatural beings by signing up for one of the many options offered by Ghosts & Gravestones Frightseeing Tours.  Or you can just follow my lead and check into a bed & breakfast with a ghost of its own.

In St. Augustine, what’s old is really old.  Not only is the St. Francis the oldest inn in the nation’s oldest city, it is just around the corner from the city’s oldest house.  The building dates back to the Second Spanish Colonial Period when Gaspar Garcia was granted the property in 1791 by the King of Spain. The St. Francis has had numerous owners since then but today the property is lovingly owned and maintained by Margaret and Joe Finnegan. Every effort has been made to honor the past while ensuring that guests have access to today’s conveniences. The American and Spanish flags flutter languidly from the balcony and beckon you inside.  Step through the metal gate and you will be tempted to linger over sweet tea in the picture-perfect garden courtyard filled with bougainvillea and other flora even before checking into your room.

 

The Garcia Suite

Photo Courtesy St. Francis Inn

Entering the Garcia Suite, I take in the antique furniture, wooden shutters, and the decanter of mysterious brown liquor on the coffee table.  The ambiance is historical-homey and I am thankful that the small flat screen television in the corner does not overwhelm the room.  Later in the evening, I swaddle myself into the plush king bed and decide to read a bit before dozing off.  I’m a big girl. Why not read a little bit about ghosts while I am all by myself. Late at night. In a strange place. I reach for Ghosts and Gravestones in St. Augustine Florida by John F. Stavely.

As I flip through this sliver of a book that promises to deliver big shivers, I am engrossed but not at all scared.   Until I reach page 40.  All of my city girl bravado exits my body as I read about the ghost of the St. Francis Inn: Lilly.   I may need a shot of that strange brown liquor to calm my nerves after all. It seems that Lilly roams the third floor – the very same third floor where I am alone in my room. Legend has it that a forlorn and heartbroken Lilly is in search of her long lost love who committed suicide. As in many love stories, their affair was forbidden. Lilly was the black servant of the white Hardee family who owned the St. Francis Inn after 1855. Her lover was the white nephew of the Hardee’s.  When the nephew was told by his family that his dalliance with Lilly must end, he did so in a most tragic fashion by taking his own life.

Poor Lilly.  What I would do if I woke up in the middle of the night and saw her ethereal figure weeping at the foot of my bed? Would I offer her my sage, sister-to-sister advice, pour her a drink and say, “Lilly, girl you’ve got move on. There are plenty of other perfectly wonderful ghosts out there. Stop wasting your afterlife.” 

Or would I run down the hall in my skivvies screaming?

Taking no chances, I sleep with the light on.

Step into the Gilded Age

The Old Ponce de Leon Hotel, Home of Flagler College

Photo Courtesy Flagler College

I wake up with the sun peeking through the shutters and amazed that I actually snagged some zzz’s after getting so worked up about a possible visitor from beyond.  In honor of Lilly, I select a floral dress after taking a steamy shower in the deep-as-a-well bathtub. Bounding down the stairs, I leave all thoughts of ghosts behind me and let my stomach lead the way to breakfast. Ghostbusting apparently revs up the appetite.  Fortified with buttery fresh biscuits, crunchy homemade granola, and fluffy scrambled eggs, I decide that my itinerary will include a few sights and plenty of food. Unlike many destinations, St. Augustine lends itself to flexibility. For those who prefer a more structured itinerary, I would highly recommend buying an Old Time Trolley pass and hopping on and off at the various attractions. If you are feeling a little more care-free, just wander around St. Augustine on foot and you are certain to happen upon a treasure. In fact, AAA has recognized St. Augustine as one of the “Ten Most Walkable Cities in America.”

Although I plan on leaving my day fairly unstructured, I walk briskly along St. George Street so that I don’t miss the morning tour at Flagler College. Yes, my school days are far behind but Flagler College is not only an academic institution but also a stunning example of Spanish Renaissance architecture. The residence and dining halls for Flagler College are located in the former Ponce de Leon luxury hotel built by uber-wealthy industrialist Henry Flagler in 1888. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, today students in Ponce de Leon Hall nosh and mingle in the original dining room where socialites and tycoons flirted and flaunted their wealth.  Many of the original ornate wooden chairs remain in this majestic space but the room’s piece de resistance are the 79 Tiffany glass windows that surround the students in luxurious history. Valued at many millions of dollars, Flagler College boasts the largest collection of Tiffany windows in the world. 

Tiffany Windows at Flagler College

                             

     

     Hmm, "Henry Flagler"  looks better than ever!

The history of St. Augustine and Henry Flagler are forever intertwined. Take a dash of Rockefeller’s wealth and add a smidgen of Trump’s complicated love life and you will get a sense of who Henry Flagler was.  A classic rags-to-riches story, Flagler was born into a respectable but humble family in 1830 in New York. He made and lost his first fortune in the salt mining industry. A series of fortunate events led him to immense riches when he partnered with John D. Rockefeller in Standard Oil.  While vacationing with the first of his three wives in St. Augustine, Flagler fell in love with the town and seized the opportunity to develop it into a vacation spot for the wealthy.  Not only did he construct the 540 room Ponce de Leon Hotel but Flagler developed many more stunning properties throughout Florida. He also became a formidable railroad tycoon when he expanded and enhanced train travel throughout the state. If you’re lucky, you may get a chance to chat with a mighty impressive Flagler impersonator while you are in town. No matter what crazy questions you throw at him, Faux Flagler, dressed in heavy wool in the hot Florida, sun stays in character. 

French Soul

Chef Jean Stephane Poinard

Striking architecture and melodiic street names like Valencia and Cordova are tangible reminders of the city’s Spanish history but today St. Augustine also has an alluring French presence. For authentic and inventive Gallic cuisine, Bistro de Leon is a must.  Conveniently located in the center of town, this new addition to St. Augustine’s dining scene has seduced the palates of locals and visitors.  Unpretentious and inviting, Bistro de Leon is a culinary oasis that beckons you to indulge your appetite.  Chef/Owner Jean Stephane Poinard and his vivacious wife Valerie are natives of Lyon, France. A 5th generation chef, Poinard’s culinary artistry earned him a coveted place in the elite fraternity, Les Toques Blanches Lyonnaises.  As a winemaker from the Domaine de la Fond Moiroux, Valerie’s expertise in wine can be seen on the excellent and affordable wine list.

 

Beautiful & Delicious!

Photo Courtesy Bistro de Leon

Bistro de Leon’s menu showcases Chef Poinard’s innovative interpretation of classic French cuisine. Standouts include Tomato Stuffed with Escargots & Garlic Cream Reduction, Saint Augustine Bouillabaisse, and Pasta del Mer served with a Mussel Reduction Cream, Mussels, Scallops and Shrimps.  Bread, of course, is a star player and not an afterthought in French dining. Bistro de Leon’s selection of homemade breads includes organic, walnut, olive and the deliciously decadent bacon bread.  Chef Poinard’s commitment to fresh and high quality ingredients are evident in every course and in every succulent bite.

Claude's Chocolate. Almost too pretty to eat but we'll manage!

Photo Courtesy Claude's Chocolate

Chef Poinard may be the king of St. Augustine’s French cuisine but Claude and Nicole Franques are the town’s chocolate royalty. Only a block away from the bayfront, Claude’s Chocolate melds the finest European chocolate making traditions with St. Augustine’s unique ambiance.  A native of Toulouse (France), Claude made a name for himself in the United States as the executive chef for 20 years at the renowned Rene Pujol restaurant in New York City.  The allure of St. Augustine proved impossible to resist and the Franques left the Big Apple behind to open up their petite but perfect chocolate shop.  Just climb three steps on Hypolita Street, open the door, close your eyes, and let the rich aroma of chocolate carry you away. Claude’s Chocolate’s 24 varieties of homemade chocolates, cookies, and ice cream will satisfy the most demanding sweet tooth.  Calorie counting is strictly prohibited.

Martinis & Matanzas

 

Cocktails at the Tini Martini Bar

Photo Courtesy the Casablanca Inn

Ghosts and the gilded age, history and haute cuisine, St. Augustine’s charms are many. Truly, America’s oldest city has countless stories and secrets waiting to be discovered.  So whether your choose to spend your day in search of eternal youth or retracing the steps of long gone tycoons; your evening must include the simple sophistication of the Tini Martini Bar at the Casablanca Inn.  Sit al fresco on the front verandah and watch the palm trees sway as the Florida sun sets dramatically over Matanzas Bay. Raise your glass and make a toast to St. Augustine, a treasure whose beauty and magic will haunt you long after you’ve departed. 

Useful St. Augustine Websites

City of St. Augustine
http://www.ci.st-augustine.fl.us/

St. Francis Inn
www.stfrancisinn.com

Old Time Trolley Tours
www.trolleytours.com/st-augustine 
Ghosts and Gravestones Frightseeing Tours
www.ghostsandgravestones.com/st-augustine

Fountain of Youth
www.fountainofyouthflorida.com

Flagler College
www.flagler.edu

Bistro de Leon
www.bistrodeleon.com

Claude’s Chocolate
www.claudeschocolates.com

Tini Martini Bar at the Casablanca Inn
www.casablancainn.com

A New York Diva Discovers New Jersey: My Glorious Getaway to Spring Lake

Are You Kidding Me?

What’s a stressed out diva to do when she is desperate to escape the magical madness of the Big Apple but air travel is a hassle and the dollar is weaker than Beaujolais Nouveau?  “Go to New Jersey, ” said my friend Karen - the professional traveler. I laughed. Heartily. 

“Seriously, go to Spring Lake on the Jersey Shore. It’s supposed to be really lovely,” she insisted. 

The Jersey Shore?  I’m no frisky coed on summer vacation.  Has Karen lost her mind? After some gentle cajoling, I type Spring Lake into Google. “The sweetheart of the Jersey Shore” pops up. Hmm, this looks promising. Rambling Victorian houses. A 2-mile non-commercial Boardwalk. 11 historic inns.  My skepticism melts away. Spring Lake here I come!

Two days later I pack my red Samsonite and hop the subway down to Penn Station. The ticket agent at the New Jersey Transit booth is extremely patient with my naiveté about the workings of the rails and he patiently explains that I have to transfer at Long Branch.  $21.50 buys me an off-peak round trip ticket and I climb aboard the North Jersey Coast Line train for the 2 hour trip to Spring Lake. It actually feels like an adventure. As the train rumbles down the tracks deep into New Jersey, I realize how little I know about my neighboring state. Atlantic City. Jersey fresh peaches. Bruce Springsteen. Is that all I know about New Jersey? Truly shameful and unacceptable.  These 3 days in Spring Lake will be my Intro to New Jersey for Self-Involved and Jaded New Yorkers.

Spring Lake: The 411

Incorporated in 1892, Spring Lake is located in Monmouth County, New Jersey and is about 65 miles from New York City.  According to the Irish Centre’s website, “the area is known locally as the Irish Riviera, a name given when Martin Maloney's huge estate, Ballingarry, dominated the area.”

Covering a land area of only 1.31 square miles, Spring Lake has a population of almost 3,500 and about half of those are year-round residents. Spring Lakers know how to enjoy life – this small town has more than 60 shops and galleries, 7 public tennis courts and easy access to golf, boating and other leisure time activities.  A picturesque town of turn-of-the century Victorian homes, Spring Lake’s time-stood-still quality is reinforced by a total of zero stop lights.   Forget hailing a cab but bike rentals are easily arranged and your feet will take you far.

Home Away from Home

The Chateau Inn & Suites was my home base during my Spring Lake sojourn. Just 3 blocks away from the train station, the Chateau was formerly a Victorian home built circa 1888.  Known in the 1950’s as the “Summer Home of the Stars”, many luminaries of the silver screen cocooned at the Chateau, including Basil Rathbone, Geraldine Page, and Ann-Margret.  Fast forward 50 years and the Chateau is still sought out by bold faced names looking to relax in unpretentious luxury. Recent guests have included supermodels, Broadway stars, actors, and bad boy rockers on their best behavior!

Jean and John Smith were the original proprietors of the Chateau in the 1950's and the property is now managed and owned by their son Scott. Scott’s attention to detail and impeccable taste have transformed the Chateau into an appealing hybrid property that masterfully combines the ease and comfort of an inn with modern luxuries. Not a lace doily in sight. The Chateau’s 37 guestrooms and one-room suites feature 42-inch plasma televisions, imported marble bathrooms, Jacuzzis, wood burning fireplaces and wet bars. The Aveda amenities in the bathroom are also a very nice touch.  Exquisitely appointed with Italian fabrics, plush leather sofas, and mahogany furniture, the rooms also feature patios, sundecks, or balconies. One of the simple pleasures of my stay was grabbing a cup of tea from the continental breakfast buffet and bringing it back to my room to sip while sitting on the balcony and catching glimpses of Spring Lake ( yes, there really is a lake) through the trees.  WI-FI access made staying in touch an easy option but Spring Lake’s beauty inspired me to ignore my laptop, Blackberry and all manners of digital nuisances.   I did, however, put in a phone call to wise Karen to tell her how beautiful everything was!

People watchers will enjoy observing the eclectic mix of travelers at the Chateau. During my 3 days I encountered young honeymooners still decked out in their nuptial garb, a stylish mom vacationing with her two adorable little girls, a group of friends sharing tea in the lounge, and single travelers looking for a time-out.  Scott and all of the staff at the Chateau were gracious hosts and easy conversationalists. Robert, the General Manager, indulged my curious nature with old pictures and news clippings of the Chateau. Lisa, at the reception desk, shared my passion for travel memoirs written by women traveling to far-flung locales in search of romance. Scott chivalrously rescued me from a 10 block walk to dinner in Manhattan high heels with a ride to the restaurant and an insiders’ tour of the town.  I was spoiled and loved every minute of it!

If you prefer to stay closer to the beach, The Breakers boasts 73 rooms and is the last of Spring Lake’s seaside grand hotels. The largest full-service hotel in Spring Lake, The Breakers’ seaside veranda is the perfect place to enjoy a sunset cocktail.  For a cozier experience, choose the Grand Victorian. Also located by the sea, the décor of the Grand Victorian’s 13 rooms is inspired by the calming colors and ambiance of the beach. The charm of Spring Lake is that it offers accommodations to suit every personality from the bed and breakfast traditionalist to the edgier modern traveler. To find your perfect Spring Lake oasis, visit www.historicinnsofspringlake.com.

So Much to See

The Chateau is a comfortable walking distance from all of the attractions in Spring Lake. Just across the street is the bucolic lake with its 3 footbridges that beckon you to languidly stroll cross them. During season, the Lake is even stocked with trout for fishing. The Spring Lake Historical Society is also across the street and the knowledgeable volunteers will gladly answer any of your questions.

The Atlantic Ocean is perhaps Spring Lake’s most alluring natural sight. A leisurely 15 minute stroll from the Chateau will take you past majestic Victorian homes and sycamore lined streets and before you know it the salty sea air is tickling your nostrils. Spring Lake’s 2 mile boardwalk is a pristine non-commercial treasure and the longest non-commercial boardwalk in New Jersey. Voted one of the 10 best beaches in America, the beach and boardwalk are tranquil yet energetic with joggers, couples holding hands, families lunching on the beach, young mothers with baby carriages and old-timers shooting the breeze.  

If you love the theater, plan your visit around one of the Spring Lake Theater Company’s critically acclaimed productions. This 350+ seat theatre is housed in the lovely Spring Lake Community House and presents 6 shows per season of both original and classic works. The costumes and sets are lavish and many of the actors have professional credentials.  The Spring Lake Community House is also home to the dollhouse like public library – a must see!

Enjoy a moment of splendid solitude amidst the captivating frescoes and other impressive works of art in St. Catharine Church (circa 1910). St. Catharine’s holds court dramatically alongside the lake. To find the church simply follow the bells. Throughout the day St. Catherine’s melodic (believe-it-or-not they’re electronic) bells chime throughout Spring Lake.   A clever bow to modern times in this timeless place.

Forget the Diet - Fresh & Fabulous Food

It’s no surprise that many of Spring Lake’s culinary offering are inspired by the sea. Chef Mark Mikolajczyk of the Black Trumpet creates his menu around what the local “day boat’ fishermen have reeled in that day. Not frozen. Not flown in. Chef Mikolajczyk selects fish fresh from the dock each day and serves dishes that are innovative but allow the natural taste of the ingredients to shine through.  The restaurant is named after his favorite mushroom and standouts at the Black Trumpet include fresh from the dock Skillet Seared Fluke served with Fingerling Potatoes, Corn & Beans and Porcini Dusted Manasquan Inlet Day Boat Scallops served over a Rock Shrimp Potato Pancake.

Chef Claudette Herring is working wonders with Italian rustic fare at Vivere Ristorante at the Grand Victorian. Born in Tuscany, Chef Herring serves satisfying and authentic meals inspired by the flavors and textures of Northern Italy and Mediterranean country cuisine.  Her Stuffed Pork Tenderloin cooked in a Madeira Demi-Glace and served with Sautéed Pearl Onions, Pancetta & Fresh Peas is a mouthwatering mélange of simple home-style cooking melded with the artistry and technique of a passionate pro.  Vivere’s romantic seaside setting makes it easy to believe Chef Herring when she proclaims “A tavola non si invecchia mai.” (At the table, one never grows old.)

For a lively night out and a taste of Spring Lake’s Irish roots, stop by St. Stephen’s Green Publick House. The building may be more than 120 years old but the energy is upbeat and very now! Sit at the bar or at a fireside table at this spacious and handsome wood paneled pub.  Live Celtic music performed by local musicians provides an upbeat and genuine soundtrack while enjoying a pint of beer and traditional favorites such as Shepard’s Pie and Potato Leek Soup.  Save room for the Irish Banoffee Pie – an oddly delicious pie made with bananas, condensed milk, and homemade whipped cream drizzled with toffee on a graham cracker crust. When I first saw the menu, I had no idea of what the heck a “banoffee” was. Once the manager explained it to me, it was embarrassingly obvious that the word Banoffee is a portmanteau fusing the words banana and toffee. That little tidbit will impress your dining companions!

To further indulge your sweet tooth, Susan Murphy’s Old Time Ice Cream and Jean Louise Handmade Candies offer good old-fashioned sugary goodness with a side of small-town quaint ambiance.  Who’s On First is a local favorite for diner style deli eats.

Pamper Me Please!

Lest, all this talk of sea breezes and freshly caught fish leads you to think that Spring Lake was krypton to my diva tendencies, au contraire. Spring Lake taught me how to tap into a lower maintenance and slower paced diva. A stop and smell the cherry blossoms kind of diva.  If you wish to become acquainted with the local Spring Lake fashionistas, Juli Mei Purity Beauty Lounge is the place to go. If Juli Mei were in Manhattan, I would be there at least twice a week or be tempted to apply for a part-time job. Located on Spring Lake’s main shopping thoroughfare Third Avenue, Juli Mei is named after gorgeous owner Juli Scrabis and her oh-so-adorable daughter Mei.  New Jersey’s first boutique spa “dedicated to using natural and organic ingredients, Juli Mei is an open and airy beauty emporium with a Soho vibe.

 

I indulged in a mineral makeover and was delighted with the final result. Makeup artist Diana’s artistic touch combined with the phenomenal La Bella Donna mineral cosmetics left me looking fresh and rejuvenated not made up. Juli Mei sells a variety of high-end cosmetic, skincare and fragrance brands including Jane Iredale, Jurlique, Calypso and L’Artisan Parfumeur.  The dressaholic in me was thrilled by the thoughtful selection of stylish frocks, including several pieces from high end designer Tracy Reese.  You can easily spend the day at Juli Mei:  have a massage and a facial, enjoy a makeup application, buy a fantastic outfit with the perfect accessories, spritz on some fragrance and watch out Spring Lake!   Other Third Avenue shops include The Irish Centre, The Pink Pony, Ye Towne Shop and many more.  

Rejuvenated and Educated

Where did the three days go? Looking back on my trip I did not do anything extraordinary.  I walked. I ate. I shopped. Arguably, these are quotidian activities that can be done right here at home. Yet, three days later I feel utterly energized and rejuvenated. I slept like a baby every night at the Chateau. Then it hits me - simplicity is the magic of Spring Lake. In Spring Lake timelessness wins over trends. The unhurried pace and peaceful ambiance enabled me to truly experience the incomparable Zen of a seaside stroll, the awakening of taste buds to a beautifully prepared meal, and the exhilaration of a stroll with no destination in mind.

Spring Lake, without smugness or conceit, showed me that the place next door can sometimes be the most magical of all. I was just 2 hours from home but I discovered a destination that perhaps too many New Yorkers dismiss too quickly. I don’t claim to be an expert on all things New Jersey but I can say with conviction that Spring Lake offers accessible beauty, elegance, and luxury - everything a diva adores!  It turns out that sometimes peace of mind is a New Jersey Transit ride away. Go figure.

Karen, feel free to say, “I told you so.”  

Websites

The Chateau Inn & Suites

www.chateauinn.com

Historic Inns of Spring Lake

www.historicinnsofspringlake.com

Juli Mei/Purity Beauty Lounge

www.shopjulimei.com

Spring Lake Theater

www.springlaketheater.com

Spring Lake Chamber of Commerce

www.springlake.org