Tuesday, April 5, 2022

A Chicago Story by Libby Fischer Hellmann


LUCY BURDETTE: Today, a big Red welcome to our good friend, Libby Fischer Hellmann!

LIBBY FISCHER HELLMANN: Hi, Reds. It’s great to be back. 

My latest Georgia Davis thriller, DoubleBlind, came out last month.  It’s doing well, even though it’s the 6th in the series. I was going to write about keeping a series fresh, but decided to do that on my own blog. You can find it here, and I hope you’ll check out the book.

But today I wanted to write about something else. I’m going to a formal wedding tonight down at the Palmer House. Have you ever been there? The lobby ceiling is fantastic, and I talk about it—and its history in DoubleBlind.



In fact, the ceiling reminded me of a Chicago story that occurred soon after I moved from DC to Chicago in the fall of 1977. At the time I was looking for a job in broadcast news (Which turned out not to happen, but that’s another story). I’m still not sure who told me about it, but I stayed at the Belden-Stratford, an apartment-hotel in the middle of Lincoln Park, which at the time, housed one of the best Mandarin restaurants in Chicago, the Dragon Inn. 

But I digress.

The Belden-Stratford wasn’t an assisted living facility, but you might have mistaken it for one. Formerly an elegant hotel, but it had faded into a dusty, dingy, place with frayed carpets, and cracked leather furniture. I booked it for a month, spending my time going on interviews, working freelance, and seeing the sights of Chicago. I would get back to the hotel around four, and would be greeted by a phalanx of senior citizens lounging on chairs and sofas in the lobby. They would stare at me as I swung through the door. Most of them looked vacant, some sad, and no one smiled. I would make a beeline for the elevator. 

One day, though, one of the women did smile at me, and I decided to sit next to her. She must have been well into her eighties, she looked frumpy, and she walked with a cane. We started to chat about this and that… nothing important, just passing the time of day. She asked me why I was staying there, and I told her. I asked her how long she’d lived there, and she told me. I was about to say goodbye and go up to my room when she said. “You’re probably too young, but do you happen to know who Benny Goodman was?”

Now, you need to know my late father was a party animal. He was the guy everyone wanted to be around when the music started and the drinks were flying. Along with Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald, he had all of Benny Goodman albums. In fact, at least once a week, usually on Saturday nights, the strains of Benny’s clarinet or Ella’s perfect soprano or some other Swing/Big Band would float upstairs as I was trying to fall asleep.  I told the woman. 

She grinned. “Well, I’m Benny Goodman’s sister.”

Once I put my jaw back in alignment, she said, “Come with me, sweetie.”

We went up to her small, cramped apartment. Every available inch of wall space was covered with framed photos and newspaper clippings. Other mementos spilled onto end tables next to china figurine miniatures, lace doilies, and other tchotchkes. All of them were a memorial to her brother. 

Photos of him playing with Gene Krupa and Harry James at the Blackhawk restaurant… album covers (some the same as my father’s)… family photos taken in the Maxwell Street area where they grew up – there were twelve siblings – and one photo of their father, who died before his time in a traffic accident.  

I looked through everything. Then I asked if I could bring my camera down so I could take pictures of the pictures for my father. 

“I have a better idea,” she said (To this day I can’t remember her first name… my bad). “How would you like a photo?”

She gave me a picture of Benny, Gene Krupa, and Harry James. It was a candid, and they were rehearsing. She didn’t know where. I do remember two of them (don’t recall which ones) had cigarettes burning. 

I sent my father the photo the next day. 

That was my first “Chicago” moment, not particularly exciting or memorable except to me. A piece of Chicago’s past had been shared with me, and I felt a bond with the city, its history, and the talent nurtured on the shores of Lake Michigan. 

That was over 40 years ago. Benny and his sister are long gone. So is my father. But during the few moments I spent in her apartment, something registered—a sister who was inordinately proud of her brother and was able to tell the tale to a younger person who appreciated it. 

It was a special moment, and I knew from that day forward that I belonged in Chicago.  I was going to live here. Maybe I’d even tell this story one day. 






 



42 comments:

  1. Congratulations, Libby, on your newest book . . . sixth in a series is amazing. Could you tell us a bit about the story?

    I loved hearing about your meeting with Benny Goodman’s sister . . . how lovely that she was so proud of her brother.
    What a wonderful experience, and such a precious memory . . . .

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    1. Hi, Joan. Thanks for asking. My protagonist, Chicago PI Georgia Davis, is working on an unexpected Covid death of a friend's aunt, but is interrupted by a family weekend in Nauvoo, Illinois, which was once (really) the Mormon heartland of the Midwest. (The Mormons were later kicked out of Illinois and that's when Brigham Young took them out to Utah)Anyway, there ARE lovely Mormon people still there, but they aren't Fundamentalists (the Warren Jeff types that are very strict, morally questionable, and prone to violence). I fictionalized a cult of Fundamentalists and an abused wife who was running away from her spouse. SUrprisingly, she has an uncanny physical resemblance to Georgia! So you can imagine the rest -- both are mistaken for the other and a series of threats on Georgia's life makes it critical that she find the runaway wife. In a few words, it's a case of mistaken identity that turns deadly.
      I know.. Covid and Mormons? Who would have thought?

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    2. My oldest sister in northern Indiana is a staunch Mormon (since her college days). For years she attended the temple in Chicago until they built one in Indianapolis. The story sounds fabulous, Libby.

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  2. Congrats on the new book. And enjoy the wedding tonight.

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    1. Thanks, Mark. It actually was over the weekend, and it was delightful. Once in a while, it's fun to get all dressed up and spend time in a fancy hotel. You can read more about the Palmer House in DoubleBlind. :)

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  3. What a lovely story, Libby, and a treasure of a memory.

    I stayed in the Palmer House for Murder and Mayhem Chicago four years ago. Yes, that ceiling is stunning.

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    1. Hi, Edith. Long time and all that. The only word that comes to mind is "stately." Potter Palmer originally built the hotel for his fiancee/wife, Bertha, during the Gilded Age. It burned down, but was rebuilt and then renovated in the 1920s.

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  4. LIBBY: Congratulations on the new Georgia book. That's a great chance meeting story, and a special memory for you. I have never been to the Palmer House but will check it out that next time I visit Chicago.

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    1. I believe they have tea in the afternoon, Grace. Not to be missed!

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  5. Libby, congratulations on your new book. What a great story about a chance meeting! It's so interesting that that sister keep so much memorabilia. I love big band music. I bet your dad was bowled over by the photo!

    I am new to your series and would love for you to tell us about it. You mention that they are thrillers. Are they set in Chicago?

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    1. That sister "kept"...gee, the things autocorrect does and doesn't fix!!

      Libby, I am going to your website!

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    2. Hi, Judy. I summarized the story above. I should note that my editor did NOT want me to write about Covid, but I chose the most dry, mundane aspect that I could -- namely the distribution and transportation of the vaccine from manufacturer to peoples' arms, and haven't had a complaint. It turned out to be a minor part of the story. Until it wasn't.

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  6. Congratulations on book six, Libby! And -- what a great 'unexpected encounter' story. Wow. Did your dad keep that picture and do you have it back with you once again?

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  7. Wow! What a wonderful story you fell into - things like that are truly amazing to me, little miracles I call them. Now I will go search out your books so I can start with the first one. Thank you!

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  8. Alas, Amanda, I do not have the photo, and don't know what happened to it after my father passed. When my mother passed 3 years ago, I inherited the family photo albums and looked for it in there, but couldn't find it.

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    1. Oh, Libby, too bad! But you have the memory and the story, both of which are invaluable -- and cannot be lost if they make their way into a book of yours!

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  9. Libby, congratulations on the book. What a wonderful story. Benny Goodman's sister was probably waiting for someone to talk to her.

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  10. Hi Libby, welcome back. The more I read about editors, the more I think they resemble tight lipped bean counters that continually have no tattooed on their foreheads. Then I realize nope. Not true, editors are gatekeepers and second guessers.. and this has nothing to do with how happy I am that you and Georgia are up to book six.

    Great story about Benny's sister. I am really dating myself, but I saw/heard Goodman perform with the Seattle Symphony back in the 60's. Rhapsody in Blue really wailed that night. Good luck with book six, and when is seven coming out?

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    1. Coralee, I wrote you a long reply but I think the computer ate it. My mother loved it when he played with the symphony orchestra and went to see him several times. I suspect HE loved playing with them too, don't you?

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  11. What a wonderful story, Libby! I am a huge big band fan - impossible not to be happy when listening to In the Mood! Congratulations on the release of your book! Looking forward to reading it.

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  12. Oh, that is fantastic! My jaw would've dropped, too. Oh. Fascinating. I love Benny Goodman, and all the big bands. I remember talking to my dad (the music critic for the old Chicago Daily News) about them, as a little kid, maybe about 6, when they all sounded the same to me. And he explained how they were different, and how to listen. What a gift! And I do remember the Palmer House, embedded in all my born-in-Chicago moments.
    Congratulations on the new book!

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    1. Thanks, Hank. I keep forgetting you have Chicago ties. Hmm.. we share DC & Chicago... but I don't have Indianapolis on my belt.

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  13. Congratulations on DOUBLE BLIND, Libby - #6 is a big deal and something to celebrate. I grew up with Ella singing in the background, too. My dad taught me to Lindy in our living room which grew into a love of swing dancing for me. Chicago has always seemed like a city worth living in and I'm a city girl.

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    1. SO I guess we have to have a swing Big Band hour at Bouchercon, don't we...

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  14. Kindness, rewarded, Libby! Taking the time to speak to a much older person was a lovely thing to do. And I suspect the photo was one of your dad's most treasured possessions.

    My high school business class went to Chicago in the late fall of 1968, and we crammed four kids to a room at the Palmer House. But being a silly teenager I didn't even notice the lobby ceiling. My biggest memories of that trip are not of the Merchandise Mart, either, but of seeing the Funny Girl movie in a grand theater, and of one classmate dragging me through the bowels of the hotel to meet her parents' idol Jack Jones, who was performing at the hotel that night. I had no idea who he was, and when he asked me if I also wanted his autograph I said no (it's not like he was a Beatle, right?). Then he scrawled his signature on a small envelope and thrust it at me. And of course I still have it!

    I can't believe I've missed this series, it sounds wonderful.

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  15. I love your story, Karen.. SO honest and real!

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  16. I love this story, Libby--a lovely unexpected treat this morning! And congrats on #6, that is indeed a big deal. I don't know Chicago well at all, my few visits have been mostly confined to the suburbs, but it sounds as though reading about Georgia and her adventures would be a great introduction!

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    1. Be my guest, darlin' (They say that in Texas, right?_

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  17. OMG what a story! I had chills going up and down my spine. That must have been so interesting to see all of the stuff she had collected. And my Dad LOVED Benny Goodman. We sent him into his passing playing Benny Goodman for him - in between our talking to him in a one-sided conversation.

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    1. What a way to go... you know you're going to a good place.

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  18. I love this story, Libby! And it made me check on the Beldon-Stratford: looks like it's gone upscale again, with studio apartments at $4,000 plus. (Of course, maybe that's cheap for the Windy City these days...)

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    1. Oy. I think I heard that they'd refurbished it. Hope you're well, Julia!

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  19. Talk about serendipity! Sometimes you can get the best stories from older generations out of the blue. Benny Goodman's music style was amazing. Almost wild at times. My father-in-law loved Big Band music. That was his era. My husband stayed at the Palmer House eons ago. Wasn't that where the heroine of Show Boat lived when she moved to Chicago?

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    1. Hi, Pat. I don't know the answer to that. But I wouldn't be surprised. Did you know it is still the 2nd largest hotel in Chicago? (1st is the Hyatt Regency...No comment)

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  20. What a great story, meeting Benny Goodman's sister! Did you get to be friends or talk to her more after that first encounter? I think Chicago was certainly calling you to it. Talking about Benny Goodman, the King of Swing, made me think about how my son at the early age of 17 enjoyed swing music and dancing to it.

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    1. We saw each other in the hotel from time to time. Then I rented an apartment, ironically only 3 blocks from the hotel, and left.

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  21. That's a wonderful Chicago story--and I'm glad you were rewarded for stopping to chat with an old lady who smiled at you. My first memory of Chicago is the zoo, the first zoo I ever visited. I was five. It made a big impression.

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  22. All because you took the time to chat . . . <3

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