cacakerbamakhlukpolitik

This two-family home, located at 2253-2255 (formerly 305-307) Wabash, was built on a lot that was once part of the Cicotte / Godfroy Farm. The history of that farm has been covered in a previous post , so there is no need to repeat it here. The segment of the farm south of Michigan Avenue was divided into individual lots in 1864. On April 26 of that year, lot number 26 was purchased by a forty-four-year-old real estate dealer named Ralph Phelps. Plat of the Godfroy Farm south of Chicago Road ( State of Michigan ) Two years later, Ralph Phelps sold lot 26 to Horace Fosdick. Horace Forsdick Horace P. Forsdick was born January 23, 1833 in Suffolk County, England to Benjamin and May Ann (Easter) Forsdick. He came to Detroit around 1860. On April 26 of that year, he appeared in Recorder's Court to declare his intention to become a United States citizen. At the outbreak of the Civil War, Forsdick enlisted with Company C of the 1st Regiment of US Sharpshooters on August 26, 1861.

Isobel had a great post a few weeks ago about anti-heroes . The fascinating follow-up discussion on Isobel’s post took me back to a question I've pondered in the past . What exactly makes an anti-hero or anti-heroine? Is it the behavior or the motives? I’ve heard the term anti-hero used to encompass a range of characters. There’s the Talented Mr. Ripley, who commits murder for his own advancement. There’s Don Draper, who has principles of a sort and is remarkably loyal to some of the people in his life, but seems to have no concept of romantic fidelity–(or at least no ability to be faithful. (One of the things I love about Mad Men is how all the characters are flawed and yet all of them have sympathetic moments.) Francis Crawford of Lymond does all sorts of seemingly horrible things, and yet he inevitably proves to have done so for the noblest of motives. Is he an anti-hero? Or is an anti-hero someone who acts out of selfish motives and doesn’t have a core of principl

The southeast corner of Mill Creek Hundred once came very close to being one of the most famous, or possibly infamous, locations in American history. -- I know that sounds like a pretty strong statement to make, but after doing a little reading, I really think it's true. More than 230 years ago, something monumental could have occurred here, forever altering the future not only of the surrounding area, but possibly of the nation itself. Instead, all that remains is the memory of a tense few days, and some rolling pieces of earth. The story takes place in the late summer of 1777 -- well into the third year of the War for Independence, and just prior to what would become the darkest days of the struggle. The British had occupied New York the year before, and everyone knew their next major objective would be to take Philadelphia -- the colonial capital. Not wanting to march across New Jersey (can you blame him?) and cross the Delaware River, British Gen. William Howe opted to transpor

I grew up in the world or re-enactors, so I have very definite ideas about what research is and what it takes to document the minutia of everyday historical life. In the re-enactment community, we talk about things being “documented” and “undocumentata ble” all the time. We harp on it constantly, and argue over what is and what isn’t. We disagree about interpretations and conclusions. It’s a constantly evolving hobby, and this is part of the fun (really . . . no, really). And since we’re attempting “living history” we have to know not just the dates of battles and the names of major historical figures, but the little things like what food stuffs were available and, more importantly, common for the class and location of our persona. I believe that writers of historical fiction need this same type of knowledge base. I’ve occasionally been vilified/attacked for pointing out that some cherished facet of Romancelandia is, in fact, erroneous (men wearing wedding rings), anachronistic (scones

I've been toying with the idea of doing something like this for a while, and I've finally decided to put it up. What is it? -- The Mill Creek Hundred History Forum! Actually, it's just a fancy way of saying "Open Thread". I'm not sure how it'll work, or how useful it'll be, but I'm going to give it a shot. The Forum is accessible via the button near the top of the page, near the Index, Map and About pages. What I'm hoping it will be used for is for anything that anyone has to say that's not directly related to the subject of a published post. This can mean comments or reminiscences about anything in the area not-yet-covered; comments, questions, or issues with the site itself; or suggestions for future posts.  Also, I hope this page will make it even easier for all of us to share interesting information. And remember, this sharing of information goes in all directions. Anything shared or asked here is open for everyone. In fact, one of the

How did we get from togas to tights? I remember, a very long time ago, sitting in Middle School history class, absolutely puzzled as to how we had gone from Ancient Rome to Medieval Europe. One minute, there were men in togas, saying “Ave!” and stabbing Caesar and the next thing I knew it was yokels in jerkins lifting a flagon at the local alehouse while Evil Prince John (I knew all about Prince John from “Robin Hood”) was being bullied by his barons and signing major charters. In a word, huh? Sure, there might have been some under the table note-passing going on, but I didn’t think I’d missed that much. And while we were at it, how had we gotten from Egypt to Greece to Rome? Each of the eras we studied existed as an island in a sea of historical uncertainty. We hopped from one to the other without ever touching down in the middle. Maybe that’s part of why historical transition fascinates me so much. How did we get from Georgian panniers to Empire bodices? From Prinny’s excesse

The History Book that Found Me Ever had a history book fall into your hands when you least expected it? Track you down in an out of the way place and say, Read me ? My family decided to escape an extra cold winter a few years ago. On the spur of the moment, we grabbed up tickets for a Caribbean cruise and left for tropical waters without a backward glance. (Boy, can you find discounts if you book a cabin at the last minute.) We boarded the ship in Miami and found some very promising scenery in the form of palm trees and white sand. Our vacation was looking good. Until we reached the beautiful, deep blue sea – only to find Old Man Winter had arrived first with a bang. Temperatures were 30-40 degrees below normal and strong winds whipped up high waves. Ports closed their doors to the ship, rather than allowing small boats to ferry tourists ashore. Passengers ignored the beautiful pool and headed for anyplace warm indoors. The bars and theaters were crowded and the library became

Sometimes, it seems as if all of the surviving 18th and early 19th Century houses in Mill Creek Hundred were, until recently at least, the anchors to large properties. Today, some still sit on relatively large tracts, while others have sold off all but an acre or two, leaving the old home nestled in the middle of a newer suburban neighborhood. There seem to be relatively few examples of old houses from smaller properties (or properties long since whittled down) surviving the years. And since most of the remaining old homes are farmhouses, it sometimes gives the impression that 150 years ago everyone in this part of Delaware was engaged in agriculture. While it is true that most residents were farmers or farm laborers, there were many others who engaged in a multitude of other occupations. However, someone like a blacksmith, a cabinet-maker, or a shoemaker didn't always need as large a property as did a farmer (although some did do both). These smaller tracts and their accompanyin

Note: This blog will no longer be updated weekly. Posts will now be made whenever I have research to share--hopefully at least once per month. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Joseph Buchanan House, formerly 214 Wabash Street 214 Wabash first appeared in city directories in 1883. Although the city was issuing building permits by then, I failed to locate this home in the index to building permits. ( A document profiling several Corktown homes incorrectly states that 214 Wabash was built in 1893, but the permit referred to there was in fact for 212 Wabash, immediately to the south, now demolished.) The house was built on lot 66 of outlot 1 of the Lafferty Farm, platted in 1867. In 1883, property was owned by Clement Lafferty, a grandson of the farm's original French settler, Louis Vessiere dit Laferte. The first known renter of 214 Wabash was a livestock agent named Martin Lamb, born in Michigan on March 23, 1854 to Martin M. and Mary Jane (Guthrie) Lam

The worst part of being a historical writer has got to be the anachronisms that creep into your fiction, the ones that bite you about the ankles because you never even thought to check them -- because at the time you wrote them it seemed so entirely obvious that this or that phrase or product simply had to have been around back then. The product currently at issue being boot polish, tins of which I blithely envisioned neatly stacked on the shelf of every Regency gentleman's dressing room, in readiness for his valet to put a sexy shine on all those hot high Hessians. Boot polish plays a minor but rather important role in my first published romance, Almost a Gentleman , in the form of a made-up commodity of inferior quality called Drumblestone's Bargain Blacking. I probably cooked up the name in half-conscious reference to David Copperfield and Oliver Twist's tormentors, and once the stuff had a little Dickensian spit (or spite) affixed to it, I never thought to question it