The Making of a Trailer

In getting ready to launch Lilac Wine - The Podcast, I wanted to make a promo that captures the feel of the story. I based the idea on a music video that I made a few years ago in which the pages of an old photo album come to life. The video was for a song by the Civil Wars called "20 Years." I made the music video for a contest. I didn't win, but liked how the video turned out, nonetheless.



I needed to find photographs that captured the spirit of Lilac Wine. Scouring the internet for public domain images from in and around 1917 was not too difficult.  Within a few minutes of googling, I found these pictures:

These images are from 1917, found in a Hungarian photo website.  I just love them. The image on the left really captures the feel of Lilac Wine.

I needed to add some wine to the image, so I went to a photo that I have from the Civil Wars music video. That video features pictures from a photo album I bought at an antique store. I simply took the bottle off of the table of this picture from 1902 and added it to the chair in garden the picture.

Add a flower garden picture from the early 20th century:

And finally, a World War I battlefield, courtesy of the Library of Congress:

Oh, and we can't forget the World War I soldier. This was from the original concept book cover I made back in 2010. I don't remember where I got that original image, though.

I then created a large image in photoshop with several layers, adding trees in the foreground and more colored flowers as well.

I positioned the layers in a 3-dimensional space in Adobe After Effects and moved the "camera" in and out and across the 3D space. I then added some royalty free music and narration from Rachel Vissing, a colleague and fellow collaborator on the We Are EG podcast at Elk Grove High School and voilà: the new trailer for the Lilac Wine Podcast.

Lilac Wine - The Podcast

It is official: Lilac Wine - The Podcast is ready for you to subscribe! Check out the promo below. You can subscribe on your favorite podcast service.  Although the official release is January 1, subscribe now to receive the prologue of the novel sometime in December.  New episodes will be published weekly starting January 1, 2019.



Special shoutout to Rachel Vissing for providing the voice over for that trailer. Come back soon for a behind-the-scenes on how the trailer was made.
In the meantime, go and subscribe to the podcast on either Google or iOS:
        

Coming Soon: Lilac Wine, the Podcast

It's been awhile since I posted to these pages. But that is about to change.

Although I haven't been actively posting, or writing for that matter, Abelia and Robert are always in my thoughts. They are a part of me and rarely does a day go by when I don't think about them in one way or another.

Life has gotten in the way of writing, I am afraid.

So how do I fix that? By taking this project to the next level. By making the creative process public. Very public.

Starting in January, I will be reading the rough draft of Lilac Wine on a new podcast. Each episode will feature a chapter, with some behind-the-scenes insight on the creative process. Currently, I have 250 pages of the novel written. And once we get to that point, I will have to write chapters as we go through this together.

I will open a discussion board on this website, and allow listeners to comment and make suggestions about the story as we go. Tell me what you think as we crowd source the creative process!

Stay tuned for more information.

The Eastland Disaster and the Power of Dreams

WikiCommons/Creative Commons
Photo by Victorgrigas

Today, I spent time with the family in downtown Chicago, visiting my wife's cousin and her husband in town from Paris. We took a water taxi down the Chicago River, stopping at the La Salle Street bridge.

I noticed some news vans parked on the other side of the river and some people gathered along the riverwalk.  And then I realized: it was the 100th year anniversary of the Eastland disaster.

On July 24, 1915, the Eastland was loaded up with 2,500 workers from Western Electric Company and their families, ready for a picnic. After it was loaded, the boat started to list and then flipped onto its side in the river, pinning people under the weight of the vessel in 20 feet of water and trapping hundreds in the hull. In the end, 844 people lost their lives, the majority under the age of 23.

Makeshift morgues were established all over the city, including the building that until recently housed Oprah's Harpo Studios.  The last known survivor of the Eastland disaster, Marion Eichholz, died in 2014 at the age of 102.

It remains the worst maritime disaster in Great Lakes history.

The Eastland on its side in the Chicago River. July 24, 1915.

In Lilac Wine, it was the Eastland disaster that truly revealed to Robert Bishop his unique gift.  You see, Robert Bishop had dreams. Sometimes horribly prophetic dreams:

Some imagery in his dreams was nonsense; probably like most people’s, he reckoned. But here and there he would have terrifyingly real dreams.  Dreams that would hint at a truth yet to come.  Sometimes they were cryptic.  Sometimes urgent and very real.  Two years ago, for example, he woke up in a cold sweat, a cacophony of screams still ringing in his ears.   He had seen water and bodies.  Children trapped in dark spaces, gasping for air that was non existent; hands clawing on walls; bubbles and rushes of dark, brown water; the swirling hair and vacant eyes of a woman floating angelic-like in water, eclipsing the shimmering light from above.
    That was it.  He didn’t know if it was some horrible accident yet to come or another torpedoed luxury liner in the war.   All he knew was that something horrible was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it.  That was the worst of it---the feeling of helplessness in his gut.  People were going to die, and there was nothing he could do because he never knew when or where.  He always lacked details.
    He had only been working at his uncle’s piano factory for a couple of months in 1915 when the alarms were raised in the city.  The shop was located on Wabash Avenue, just a few blocks south of the river.    His workday was only a half hour old and he was sweeping sawdust on the floor of the sanding and planing room when it happened.  And he knew.  That same feeling he had when he awoke a couple of nights earlier found itself again in the pit of his gut.
    The Eastland was packed with people headed for a company picnic in Indiana when it capsized in the river, still tethered to the dock.  It was top-heavy, loaded with workers and their families.   Close to 850 people died that day and, although he didn’t necessarily know specifics, Robert knew it was going to happen.
    He ran down to the river when he heard someone on the street outside of the shop yell about the capsized boat.  People crowded along the river, trying to get a view of the helpless ship. It lay on its side in the water, survivors standing on its exposed hull while arms and legs flailed in the rivery froth along the edges of the vessel. A few spectators even jumped in to try and pull to safety some of those who were exhausted and struggling to swim, their clothes heavy with the weight of water.  A small, six year old boy was a lone passenger of a lifeboat, floating listlessly among bodies.
    Robert stood, helpless, on a garbage barrel, watching the carnage---watching people braver than himself pull victims from the murky water.                                                                                                                                                     Lilac Wine, Chapter 3

The Eastland disaster proved to Robert that some of his dreams carry a heavy weight.  But it is a reoccurring dream about the Great War that will change his life and all of those he knows.

Lilac Wine is a novel in progress.

--------

For more information about the Eastland disaster, visit The Eastland Disaster Historical Society.

Potosi Beer is Back

The other day I was perusing the beer isle at Binny's, looking for nothing specific but wanting something to enjoy while being pounded by another winter storm that was on its way. Over the last decade or so, the craft beer market has exploded, offering all sorts of choices from every corner of the country and the isle at Binny's stretched the entire wall.

As I gazed upon the colorful labels and creative names, my eyes stopped on something familiar: Potosi beer.  Not that I have ever had Potosi beer before.  This was the brew that Robert and Billy enjoyed on their steamer excursion in the summer of 1917:

It was a dark evening, with only a sliver of moon hanging in the sky.  At times it was difficult to discern where the land and water ended and the sky began.  Lonely lights from isolated farmhouses, almost indistinguishable from the stars in the sky, spotted the landscape.  It was so dark on the river Robert wondered how the captain could even maneuver such a large vessel without running aground or hitting a fallen tree.
     “The beer’s from over there,” Billy said, pointing the tip of his beer bottle into darkness.  “Potosi is about a mile in.  They used to run a ferry to Dubuque, carrying wagons of beer. If you were fishing out on the river, you could order a small keg as the ferry passed, and they would throw it to you. That all stopped when Iowa went dry last year.”
     Robert swallowed the last swig of beer from his bottle and then tossed it overboard.  He listened for the splash, but the music and paddlewheel muffled most sounds from the river.    Lilac Wine, Chapter 15

In the writing of Lilac Wine, I have tried hard to root the narrative in actual history. Pouring over hundreds of issues of the Dubuque Telegraph-Herald in order to get a sense of life in that corner of the country in the summer of 1917, the characters interact with actual businesses and products from the time.  Abelia, for example, orders her music from the Dubuque Music House, which was located 1362 Clay Street.  When traveling to Dubuque, she shops at the largest department store in the city: Roshek Brothers.  The department store was such a staple of the city, the ads, which appeared daily in the Telegraph-Herald, didn't even display the address.  All it stated was "Located in the heart of the city." Billy and Robert take an excursion on the popular steamboat Sidney, which made regular trips in and around the Dubuque area.

And there they ordered some Potosi beer, the "beverage of good health and cheer."

Potosi Brewing Company was founded in the small mining town of Potosi, located in Wisconsin some 15 miles directly north of Dubuque. Although a brewery had existed there since the mid-19th century, it didn't become Potosi Brewing Company until 1906. Soon it was one of the largest breweries in the area, selling its brew in more than five states.

Potosi Brewing Compnay often advertised in the Dubuque paper, particularly in the years prior to the state going dry in 1916.


The Potosi Brewing Company survived national prohibition by making "near beer" and adding a dairy to the operations. They continued thriving until the 1960s, when access and exposure to the larger breweries increased due to the automation in those plants. Smaller breweries, like Potosi, had difficulties competing. Potosi Brewing Company closed its doors in the early 70s and soon the brewery and its buildings fell into disrepair.

The brewery was purchased in 1995 and efforts began to restore it. The National Brewing Museum chose Potosi as its headquarters in 2004. Today, the brewery is owned by the non-profit Potosi Foundation and all profits from the beer are given to charity.

I purchased the Pilsner and brought it home. Now, I have to admit:  I am a beer snob.  Life is too short to waste on crappy beer.  And, let me say, I have had plenty of crappy beer, including ones that I have made myself. As I poured the Potosi, my thoughts turned to Robert and Billy, throwing back a few on the Sidney, the sound of jazz from the deck below filling the air.

Robert Bishop was from Chicago and that night in the summer of 1917 on the steamer Sidney was his first taste of Potosi beer. As I picked up the glass, I felt a twinge of nostalgia. That's the thing about writing a novel. You become so invested in the characters, their experiences and the world you have created that it transforms into something very real. Here I was, drinking a brew that almost 100 years ago was consumed by my characters in the fictional world of Lilac Wine. Until today, I believed that Potosi beer was a relic of the past. A small thing like this becomes a nostalgic experience, allowing you to live for a moment through characters created in the depths of your imagination. It's really hard to explain the feeling.

The beer was a bright golden hue with a faint aroma of grain. It was surprisingly good, crisp on the tongue. Not hoppy like other Pilsners, this was markedly smooth, perfect for those who are not too fond of hops. To be honest, it reminded me of summer--and with the winter we have had so far, it was a welcomed thought.


For more information about the Potosi Brewing Company, check out their website.

Jazz comes to Lily Springs

Abelia loves her music.  The Harvard 1906 model "talking machine" sits during the summer months on the table on her back porch.  She loves sipping wine and listening to music at night, watching the insects swarm around the lamp on her table.

In 1917, a new craze was about to hit America.  The Original Dixieland Jass Band recorded the first ever jazz record.  The record was released on the Victor record label in May and became an instant hit.  Jazz had for the first time pushed into the mainstream.

Victor Records didn't quite know how to describe the music.  In one ad they described it as a "Brass band gone crazy."  And then admit quite frankly that they didn't know what a "jass" band is.

Last summer, I purchased an original copy of this album on Ebay.  So many were sold that they are relatively easy to find.  My copy is okay, considering the album is almost 100 years old.  I cleaned it up and recorded the song "Livery Stable Blues" into the computer, knowing then that this song was going to become a significant part of the narrative in Lilac Wine.

This album helps bring Abelia and Robert together in the novel.  Robert had already had a small taste of jazz while witnessing a performance from Fate Marable aboard the paddle wheeler Sidney with his new friend, Billy Miles.  Fate Marable was an African American bandleader who traveled up and down the Mississippi River on excursion boats.  Due to the mainly white clientele on the excursion boats,  however, he was never fully able in 1917 to perform the true jazz from his hometown, New Orleans.  He was like countless other jazz initiators who were not recorded until much later.

Ironically, the Original Dixieland Jass Band was made up of white musicians.  This, in a large part, was due to the inherent racism in the recording industry at the time.  Plus, jazz musicians from New Orleans were reluctant early on to have their music recorded for fear of imitation. 

Here is the first ever recorded Jazz song:  "Livery Stable Blues," by the Original Dixieland Jass Band:

In the novel, Abelia orders a copy of the album after seeing an ad for it.  Robert, working for the Lily Springs post office delivers it.

Robert walked into the back yard, a square package under his arm, calling out her name. She hurriedly wiped her hands on an old cloth, straightened her skirt and threw open the door to the greenhouse.
     “Oh, there you are,” he said. “It’s going to be a hot one again and I didn’t want to leave this on the porch. Another record, huh?”
     “Yes. Thank you,” she replied, taking the flat, heavy cardboard package from his hand.
     “You must be one of their best customers. Which one is that?”
     Abelia smiled. “I saw an ad for this one. Brand new. It’s like a ‘brass band gone crazy’ it said. Come on.” She turned and headed up the porch steps, untying the rough hemp string from around the package. Robert followed, removing his straw hat on the shade of the porch. Abelia offered him a seat and disappeared into the house. “How about some lemonade?” she called as the door closed behind her. She returned quickly carrying a tray with a pitcher and two tall glasses.
     After pouring the lemonade she started to sit---“Oh, the record,” she remembered. She soon returned, pulling the black disk from the sleeve. The Harvard was at its place on the table with “Ave Maria” still on the platter. “This is a record by the Original Dixieland Jass Band,” she said as she switched the disks, carefully setting Alessandro Moreschi on a stack of records next to the talking machine.
     “Jass band, huh?” Robert said, setting the glass that was already dripping with condensation on the table. “I read about a jass band playing at a café on the South Side last year. Never went, but I know they were very popular. Came up from New Orleans.”
     “I don’t know anything about it. This is called ‘Livery Stable Blues.’” Abelia placed the disk on the platter. She then cranked the machine and let go of the brake, the gold Victor label quickly becoming a blur. “Ready?” she said with a smile. “I have to warn you, the ad stated that this music can inject new life into a mummy.”
     Abelia let down the tone arm; static as the needle settled into a groove. Then: a cacophony of sound. Cornet, clarinet and trombone in a burst of noise; shrill and disorganized. Then the trombone took up the beat as the crowing coronet voiced the melody. Soon, the clarinet took up the tune, carrying it above the other instruments. It was ostentatious, full of life and energy. The pattern repeated several times, then a brief pause and the cornet whinnied like a horse, the other instruments following with a “moo” and a “cockle-doodle-doo.” Abelia smiled. Robert was tapping his fingers on the top of the table, his lips in a slight grin. He had short sideburns, but hadn’t shaved that morning. Stumble dotted his chin, but his cheeks were relatively smooth. His hair had been neatly combed, but his hat had left a slight crease along the hairline. He hadn’t used a pomade today and as he bounced his head ever so slightly to the beat of the music, strands of hair fell loose and rested upon the crest of his ear. Sweat beaded his forehead and when he casually wiped it with back of his hand, his eyes moved to hers and he smiled. Abelia quickly averted her gaze, the warmth she could feel in her checks.
     There were several more instances when the instruments took on the sounds of a barn. After each whinny and moo, the tempo picked up pace, the sound became more intense. The music was fun and lively, unlike anything Abelia had in her collection. More than the music, she enjoyed watching Robert. In light of everything that happened in the last week, it was good to see him smiling.
                                                       ---- Lilac Wine, Chapter 25

"Over There" and the Problem with Anachronisms

One of the cool things about writing an historical novel is the ability to place characters in actual events and places. When I started Lilac Wine, I was determined to make the novel as historically accurate as possible.  Being a history teacher, this was very important.

So, when my characters go on a Mississippi river excursion, for example, it is based on the actual timetables for the actual boats. In this case, the S.S. Sidney.  When they go to a movie theater in Chicago, they go to an actual theater and see what was playing that evening---such as seeing Charlie Chaplin's classic The Cure at the Gem Theater on June 10, 1917.

In Chapter 20, a special guest arrives in Lily Springs for the Fourth of July celebration.  He is there to sell Liberty Loans and, in the process, sings a rendition of the famous George Cohan song, "Over There."

The problem is:  in July of 1917, no one had ever heard of the song. Although it was written in April of 1917, it wasn't recorded until July by Nora Bayes.  That recording wasn't released until October.  The song was premiered live for the first time in the fall of 1917 at a benefit in New York for the Red Cross.

When I first wrote that chapter, I had read that George M. Cohan had written the song the day after war was declared in April of 1917.  I assumed then that the sheet music would have been released shortly after.  None of the examples of the sheet music had a date beyond the year.  So, I just went with it.

Just recently I discovered that I had been mistaken.  Horribly mistaken. Turns out the sheet music wasn't copyrighted until December.

So this brings an historical conundrum.  "Over There" is a song that modern audiences will know; it can give the reader a sense familiarity.  However, it is not historical.  The character could not have sung that song.

So, do I go with history or familiarity?  If I chose history, what could I use in its place?

Thank God for Google.  Although they are no longer adding to their newspaper archive, Google has hundreds of newspapers digitized.  And among those digitized is the Dubuque Telegraph-Herald.  A few years ago, I traveled to Dubuque to view issues of the newspaper on microfilm.  Not anymore.  I can look at every issue from 1917 from the comfort of my own home. Thanks, Google.

So, I began searching for ads and articles related to music of 1917 and found this Victor ad from the June 18, 1917 edition:

Among the standards, such as "Hail Columbia" and "The Star Spangled Banner," the ad lists two popular songs as well.   A quick search in the Victor catalogue reveals that both songs were written before war was declared and even the sound recordings were released just in May of that year.  So these two songs are prime candidates if I chose to replace "Over There" in Chapter 21.

The first song is "America, Here's My Boy."  It was written by Andrew Sterling and Arthur Lange.  It was published on April 20, according to the Copyright office and released on Victor Records in May, 1917.  This version is performed by the Peerless Quartet.

The other song is "Let's All Be Americans Now," written by Irving Berlin.  This recording is by Billy Murray and the American Quartet. It was released in February of 1917.

Both songs have a great feel for a patriotic Liberty Loan rally....but, for most readers, these songs will be very unfamiliar.  Does that matter?  Or is it better to go with a song that many people can hum in their heads?

I think I need to go with the history.  That was the intent at the beginning and I cannot change now.  The question then is:  which song?