Bananas, Anyone?

 

 

There was always a party in Adele’s room.  If they weren’t listening to the latest ragtime record smuggled into school by Nel, pouring over this week’s Harper’s Bazaar, or scaring one another by reenacting Dracula for the thousandth time, they were generally plotting something that would startle, amaze, and scandalize the entire school.  Today’s scheme involved bananas.  Lots of them.  Pilfered by Blanche from the refectory (already an amazing and admirable feat), the bananas were the key to bringing down the entire sixth form winter ball.  As each girl dutifully consumed her banana, she imagined the moment when they would casually and simultaneously drop the peels out of their voluminous sleeves and under the feet of the unsuspecting dancers.  Marge triumphantly dangled the peel of her fourth banana in front of Lucy’s camera and remarked that she always wanted to know what Annabelle Thompson really wore under all those petticoats.  

*Actual caption: In Adele Corning's room.  Ethel Humphrey, Nel Hosea, Ethelwyne Walton, Josephine Eddy, Din Woodson, Marguerite Otis, Blanche Collins.  Sent by Lucy Holliday.  Circa 1893-94.

A Family Gathering

An awkward silence followed Claude’s toast.  As Minnie mouthed to the photographer to put the camera away, the guests absorbed Claude’s startling revelation.  They all knew that Claude was not like the other boys, but they were unprepared for his announcement that from this day forward he would be living as Miss Camilla Dubois.  Few around the table dared to make eye contact.  Uncle Harry began to methodically count the flowers in the wallpaper pattern.  Walter wondered if this meant he and Claude still had to share a room, and Father’s blood pressure threatened to break all past records. Edith and Martin contemplated the etiquette of leaving before dessert, while George and Teddy wished they hadn’t invited Claude to go camping.  Sarah, however, exchanged knowing smiles across the table with Lizzy, who, a fortnight earlier, had caught Claude inspecting Minnie’s trousseau with unusual interest.  “Please pass the peas!” chirped Lizzy.   

Sibling Rivalry

It was a difficult relationship from the beginning.  Even before he could walk William had made several failed attempts on his elder brother’s life, including tripping Charles headfirst into the coal chute, down the cellar stairs, and once nearly over the church choir loft.  To be fair, Charles continually “forgot” William in his bassinette in such inconvenient places as the outhouse or the middle of the street.  Perhaps it was the day Charles dyed his brother from head to toe with a bottle of bluing left behind by the laundress, or maybe it was the occasion in which William fed Charles’ toy soldiers to the dog (who mercifully threw them back up).  Whatever sparked this Cain and Abel struggle, the rivalry lasted well into adulthood when it manifested itself in the most ruthless competition for top billing on the vaudevillian stage the world has ever seen.

August 1894

Today was a busy day. Margot was up before dawn to bury her dolls in the garden after all died gruesome deaths in a shipwreck off the coast of Africa. (Jobena was the sole survivor but wouldn’t live long, poor thing, as she had a whopping case of Scarlet Fever). She had just gotten to the best bit when the widows and orphans were wailing and throwing flowers, when Nanny discovered her and made her go-into-the-house-and-change-your-frock-for-heaven’s-sake-you-heathen-child. After a fidgety luncheon and a fidgetier hour listening to Father read the Bible (all “begats” and no “smite”), she spent the afternoon in a tree spying on the neighbor boy and dropping marbles into Mr. Fitzwilliam’s koi pond. She eventually came down for tea, and was now waiting until the coast was clear to hide her crumpets in the piano.

All the News That's Fit to Print

Beryl and Ethyl chuckled over the evening news. A calf two counties over had been born with a third eye. "They ain't seen nothin' yet," remarked Ethyl as she scooped up the nearest kitten and headed into the house.

The Creepiest Christmas Ever

The eight gathered every year at the little villa on the outskirts of the Aventine. They were robber barons, spies, art thieves, and deposed dictators. Together, they feasted on oysters, quail, sweetbreads, and tangerines while bitterly recounting tales of foiled schemes and dastardly deeds. The evening always ended with a drunken rendition of “Auld Lang Syne,” a group photo ‘round “der Weihnachtsbaum,” and an attempted murder. (Arsenic was a particularly popular method). Mr. Kempner (bottom left) was this year’s chosen victim. Seconds after this photograph was taken the doll exploded (a “gift” from Frau Liselotte, center). Laughing years later over the memory of such homicidal hijinks (at least we think it was laughter; it was hard to tell due to his now necessary prosthetic jaw), Kempner fondly recalled, “Oh, I’d been slowing killing them all for years via the tainted tangerines.”*

*Actual notes written on the back of the photograph: “Weihnachten, 1902. Roma, in Casa Keinjour. Mr. Kempner – art dealer who supplied Uncle Guido. Also sent box of tangerines to Liselotte every Xmas.” You just can’t make this stuff up.

A Mysterious Light

A previously unknown image from among the famous O’Malley children faerie photographs. The photograph was found between the pages of Mary O’Malley’s girlhood diary, which was only recently brought to light through the opening of the O’Malley family archive at Cambridge University. Dated 11 June 1897, the photograph was likely taken on the grounds of Undershaw, the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in Hindhead, England where the O’Malley children had been invited to spend the summer by Conan Doyle’s son Kingsley. Mary O’Malley’s diary entry for this date is brief but illuminating: “More rambles through the woods today. P. brought his camera and we spent all morning hunting, though the rain kept most of them away. K. insists on showing his father, but the four of us swore him to secrecy. I believe he’ll keep quiet, but P. doesn’t think so.”