Artistic Ambition Clashes with Life's Harsh Realities - Blog Tour and Book Excerpt for 'The Lark'

BOOK EXCERPT

Chapter Nineteen

June 7, 1901

Macatawa, Michigan

In Michigan, in Michigan, I would that I were rich again. A ticket I'd buy, and away I'd fly, to the far-off fields of Michigan.

—From The Wizard of Oz opera, “In Michigan,” lyrics by L. Frank Baum and Glen MacDonough

Baum and I boarded the boat for his summer home in Macatawa just after sunset. We stood at the rail for hours, gazing out at the moonless sky and marveling as the stars winked on, at first one by one, but eventually in a swirl of galaxies and brilliant constellations.

We reached Macatawa Harbor at dawn, disembarked, and took a carriage to Macatawa Park. I was excited to see if Baum's house was as wonderful as Den and Ike had said.

Three or four stories of dark planks and timbers scrambled down the rocky bluffs to the beach and boat dock, gables facing every which way, stairs and balconies juxtaposed at odd angles. Magical, comfortable, and unruly, precisely the type of place where good artistic work could flourish.

Baum’s first successful books—Mother Goose in Prose and Father Goose: His Book—were celebrated by a goose-shaped wooden sign hung from a front porch post, announcing we’d arrived at “The Sign of the Goose.”

“Maud, we're home!” Baum said, throwing open the screen door.

I was welcomed by an immediate impression of warmth and family, with gleaming hardwood floors and sparkling windowpanes, armchairs grouped around Oriental rugs, and children’s belongings scattered about.

Maud showed me to my room upstairs. It was spacious and lovely, with a view of the lake, and a bathroom located across the hall, featuring a clawfoot tub and a water closet.

“You'll have to share this bathroom with the boys, I'm afraid. I set out fresh towels by the washbasin. You must be tired. Please, make yourself at home. Frank's creative impulses dictate our schedule here.” She laughed.

“I think I’ll take a nap? We were awake most of the night on the steamship and only slept a bit."

“Frank is already napping. And I'll have lunch ready for us when you awaken."

Before sitting to eat, I ran my fingers over the tiny brass adornments nailed to the chair's back. “What marvelous little geese.”

“Maud thinks my predilection for waterfowl is excessive,” Baum said, pulling his chair closer to the table.

“I believe I said you were a silly goose, dear,” Maud said, setting a plate in front of him.

“They’re delightful,” I said.

Dinner was, fortunately, not goose but chicken. I regaled Baum, Maud, and their boys with tales of all the hoofed and feathered creatures on our farm in Slater.

There was, in fact, a gaggle of geese in Baum's home. They weren't confined to the sign hanging from the porch or the little brass medallions on the chairs. Geese decorated the outer stringers and newel posts of the staircases, marched along the edge of the fireplace mantel, and paraded in a pastoral scene on the wall of the sitting room, stenciled by Baum.

After lunch, the entire family and I donned our bathing costumes and, carrying an umbrella, blanket, and towels, traipsed down the stairs stretching invitingly from the front porch to the beach.

I self-consciously removed my towel from my shoulders and stepped into the water, wearing my striped knickers and sleeveless knit shirt. I was not tan, and only my arms and shoulders were toned. Still, I soon relaxed, as Baum was supremely confident and self-possessed as always, and the boys were exuberant. In her bathing costume of a navy-blue sailor jacket, knee-length skirt, and stockings, even Maud happily waded out into the lake past her knees. The water was cold and refreshing, and we had a jolly time splashing about.

Maud and the boys returned to the house after a while, and for the remainder of the afternoon, Baum and I lounged on the sand, enjoying the warm sun and discussing The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Henry W. Savage, and all things musical and theatrical.

After supper, I relaxed on their porch and reread The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. My cousin Laura’s son Raymond adored it; I’d read it to him before. But to write music for it, I needed to refresh my memory. I enjoyed the premise of a cyclone whisking a house away intact, and the themes of relying on one’s intelligence, compassion, and courage to find one’s heart’s desire.