Chicago! Here I Come!
When I told my publicist that I wanted a LIVE date in Chicago, miraculously Madison Books showed up. I couldn't have asked for a better location.
You see, Madison Books is only 15 minutes away by taxi from Chicago's Tribune Tower. Why does that matter so much to me? Because in the mid-1800s my Scottish ancestor, James S. Kirk, built his soap factory on 320 E. North Water St., just south of where the Tribune Tower was later built in the 1920s.
When I'm plotting historical mysteries, family archives are a gold mine and I'm pleased to say my ancestral Chicago family came alive while I was writing "The Artist Colony." I even managed to interweave into my novel the tragic story of Nancy Kirk who jumped to her death trying to escape the Windsor Hotel fire.
It was my grandmother, Lesley Kirk Champlin, who made sure I knew where I came from. In tribute to her, I plan to stroll River Walk and imagine what her life was like when the Kirk's were manufacturing 70 millions pounds of soap annually, and shipping soap bars by freight train and cargo ship.
On the other side of my Chicago family was Henry C. Champlin, one of the most prominent and conspicuous as well as one of the most highly esteemed members of the Chicago Board of Trade. The Champlins considered themselves a class above the manufacturing Kirks. (Or so I've been told.)
A painting by my great aunt, Ada Belle Champlin, painted in Carmel, California (where I now live) sent me down another ancestral rabbit hole. I knew nothing about my great-aunt, never even met her, but I liked her name so much I gave it to one of my painterly characters.
Through my research, I learned that Ada Belle and her sister Hallie were both students at the Art Institute, one of the only art colleges that accepted women students in the late 1800s. After she finished her studies, she moved out West to live in Pasadena and Carmel-by-the-Sea, both thriving art communities.
Imagine my joy when I found the Carmel studio she built in 1926. Stepping over its threshold was like entering another world, another time and I knew I had a story to tell.
Unfortunately I never had the opportunity to visit Chicago with my mother. I had to be content with archival photos but they are informative. My mother grew up on Sheridan Road in Winnetka, a short walk from Lake Michigan. Some of her fondest memories were spending her summers picnicing and swimming. Later, she attended Lake Forest College, fell in love with a film producer, and moved to Hollywood, Caifornia, where I grew up. She never forgot her Midwestern roots and I know she will be with me in spirit when I present "The Artist Colony" at Madison Books this Thursday evening at seven.