Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962)

Using historical personalities and the cultural details from their era in a mystery plot makes historical fiction such fun to write.  And even better if you can visit the actual locations, which I was able to do in Carmel-by-the-Sea.

In researching The Artist Colony I looked for historical figures that fit into the haunting mood and plot of my story. Robinson Jeffers was a perfect candidate:

Excerpt: “Una drew her away from the other guests over to a low ornate metal gate on the other side of the garden that fronted the Pacific. Two men were slowly climbing up a steep wooden staircase from the rocky coast below.

“There they are.” The gaunt man leading the way up heard Una call out “Robin” and he raised his long arm and waved. His prominent nose, arched cheeks, and square chin appeared to be sculpted from the granite boulders below.

Jeffers would never have chosen to live in today's overpopulated Carmel-by-the Sea. The area around Tor House when he first moved there is unrecognizable today. Though he would appreciate Carmel's effort to save the magnificent cypress trees that he first planted in 1918 and are still so prominent in the iconic village today though many have died or been cut down.

I cast Robin and his wife Una and used Tor House as the location for a garden party, like the parties they often gave in the 1920s where many influential literary and cultural celebrities were guests, like Sinclair Lewis, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Langston Hughes, Charles Lindbergh, George Gershwin and Charlie Chaplin. 

In my novel, the Jeffers are close friends of my narrator's sister, Ada Belle, so it was natural that they would've invited Sarah to one of their garden parties.

Also, I had the opportunity to attend one of the garden parties given annually by the Tor House Foundation.

Many ideas came into vision as I climbed the claustrophobic rock staircase Jeffers built inside Hawk Tower. Perched on the top of Hawk Tower, I wrote a scene between Robinson Jeffers and Sarah.

Excerpt: He bent his head under an arch and entered without a word. The stairway was very narrow, almost claustrophobic, and the limestone stairs were slippery and difficult to climb. When she finally reached the rooftop, a gust of wind would have knocked off her hat if she hadn’t quickly grabbed the eye-of-the-peacock pinned to her hat.

She sat down next to Jeffers sitting on a stone bench carved into the citadel, and unable to keep her hat on, let the wind snap at her hair. The poet stared off in the distance as if she wasn’t there. His unlit clay pipe cupped in his hand. His jaw clenched.

Photagraph by Johan Hagemeyer

And I couldn't resist including his wife Una's well-known elixir, Coine-Eairngorm, from the Scottish Highlands. At the party, Una gives Sarah a bottle. Later in the novel, Sarah is drinking Una's elixir when she finds a satisfactory way to revenge her sister's death.