Remembering Marty

Old World Wisconsin opened to the public last week, as it has every May since 1976. As always, the new season brings a variety of changes intended to improve visitor experience. But this year also marks an unwanted and profound change. For the first time ever, Marty Perkins isn’t watching spring unfurl at the historic site.

Marty in front of Caldwell Farmers Hall, OWW.  (Milwaukee-Journal Sentinal photo.)

Marty started working at Old World in 1974. He began on the restoration crew, helping to dismantle, move, and reconstruct some of the historic structures.

In 1975, Marty helped reconstruct the half-timbered Koepsell home in the German area.

For most of his career he served as Curator of Research and Interpretation. Most recently he concentrated on his primary love, research.

He loved his work. Part of his job involved driving backroads all over the state, searching for historic buildings. The people who owned the old homes or barns or shops quickly learned that Marty was a friendly, down-to-earth guy who truly wanted to hear their stories. He had a rare affinity for getting along with everyone.

Marty sharing stories at the Kvaale Farm, OWW.

I met Marty in 1982, when I moved to Wisconsin to work at the site. On a cold April day during training Marty gathered the German area interpreters in one of the old farmhouses. We built a fire in the woodstove and he shared tales about the buildings and the people who once occupied them. I knew I’d come to the right place.

The Koepsell house, 1982.

During the thirty-eight years he served at OWW, he saw many colleagues come and go. Marty chose to dedicate his professional life to the site he’d helped plan, develop, and interpret. No one knew more about Wisconsin’s ethnic history and architecture than he did. No one knew more about Wisconsin’s crossroads villages, or 19^th-century baseball teams, or the workings of farmers’ clubs, or so many of the other topics he explored.

Gathering facts, though, wasn’t the point. He was a storyteller.

Marty leading a tour.

After Marty died suddenly last November, his coworkers referred to him as the heart and soul of Old World Wisconsin. He was. One colleague said that the site’s institutional memory had burned to the ground. That’s also true.

Marty was also the site’s conscience. He knew that research had to be the foundation of everything that happened at Old World Wisconsin.

That may sound obvious. But historic sites never get the funding they need, and research takes time. It is not uncommon for a distant administrator or generous donor to suggest some new program, with little thought given to what’s truly involved. At any site, loud voices can clamor for something old-timey if people think it would be fun and/or sell more admission tickets.

Marty calmly and pleasantly insisted on a solid foundation of research for every new program or initiative. He helped others see that documentation wouldn’t detract from popular programming, but instead enhance the site’s educational offerings.

The Benson House at OWW, Christmas Through The Years, 1990.

Of all the things I learned from Marty in the years we worked together, that philosophy is perhaps the most important.

Now that I’m writing stories instead of greeting visitors, I try to bring that ethic to each new book project. It doesn’t matter if I’m writing an historical novel for children or fictionalizing historical events in a mystery for adult readers. Research forms the foundation of the story.

In 2012, Marty and I teamed up again to offer two History and Mystery tours at OWW.

But I’m not the only person Marty mentored.  I can’t even imagine how many lives he touched over the years:  how many novice interpreters came to share his passion for the site, how many colleagues developed a lifelong habit of looking for vernacular architecture on country drives, how many interns chose to make museum work a career.

His work lives in in the historic structures and programs at Old World Wisconsin, and in the many people he inspired.

Hearts of Stone

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY

I’m often asked where my interest in the American Civil War comes from. Growing up in Maryland, I had lots of opportunities to visit Civil War battlefields.  Since Maryland was a border state, I also had plenty of opportunities to consider the experiences of people on both sides of the conflict. And in addition to learning about the soldiers’ lives, I always tried to imagine what it was like for civilians who found themselves in the midst of fighting.

After moving to Wisconsin, I got a job at a large living history site called Old World Wisconsin. For the first two years that I worked there I spent every day in period clothing, going about daily chores from spring through fall.

I got a lot of hands-on practice with cooking, craftwork, gardening, livestock, etc., etc. Later, I did a lot of the research that helped develop new programming at the historic site. Some of the details in my books come from those experiences.

Three of the farms at Old World Wisconsin  have been restored to the 1860s.  Working at those helped me gain insight into women’s work during the Civil War years.

I’m spinning flax at the 1860 Schulz House in the German area, back in 1983.

During that time I also got involved in Civil War reenacting. Most visitors come to Civil War reenactments thinking only about soldiers and battles.

These men honor soldiers who fought in the Civil War by portraying them at special events and reenactments.

Civilian reenactors in the units I belonged to tried to add an additional layer by portraying the experiences of women, children, and non-military men at events around the country.

I usually portrayed rural working-class women.

This is my husband and me in a makeshift campsite for refugees at a Civil War event at the Wade House Historic Site.  This photo dates to the 1990s.

Camping  with my friends Sue and Yulanda, sometime in the 1990s, at another event portraying people displaced by the war.

Here I am at Pickets Mill Battlefield Historic Site, Georgia. (Don’t worry, the pipe was just for show.)

In October, 1994, I participated in a refugee camp scenario planned as part of a huge reenactment held in Spring Hill, Tennessee.  The day we set up camp was marked by torrential rain, and soon the entire area was a sea of mud.  I slept in a small tent that evening, but I remember well the women who managed to spend the night under makeshift shelters formed from quilts and gum blankets—just as families left homeless during the Civil War had to do.

Fortunately it didn’t rain all weekend!

The event organizers had worked hard to prepare a full weekend for the participants.  We were busy with food preparation and cleanup, inspections from the provost guard, and interacting with other reenactors and event visitors.

Meghan and Stephanie, two of my fellow refugees.

Before that event was over, I knew I wanted to write a novel about children who end up as refugees during the Civil War.  Hearts of Stone began taking shape in my mind.

My main character, Hannah, is a young teen forced to leave home her three younger siblings when the war tears her community apart.  With both parents dead, she tries desperately to keep her little family together.  She takes the young ones to Nashville, believing that city provided their best hope, but her heart aches to be back home on Cumberland Mountain in Tennessee’s eastern mountains.

The children participating in the scenario at Spring Hill were adorable, and what an experience for them!  But watching them made me feel sad as I thought about all the real children who became homeless during the Civil War.

These girls helped me imagine Hannah’s little sisters, Mary and Maude.

When the event was over, I needed to do a lot more research.  So, I went back to Tennessee.  I visited libraries.  I read letters and diaries and old newspapers.  I went hiking in the mountains, and I drove the route Hannah and the children took to Nashville (at least as closely as I could, considering how much has changed since the 1860s.)

I looked at photographs and artwork, too.

This photo of real Civil War refugees is from the National Archives.

This period newspaper illustration shows refugees camping in the woods.

It took me about ten years to research, write, revise (many times!) and find a publisher for Hearts of Stone.  I believed in the story, and was delighted when Dutton published the book.  I hope it touches your heart.

PS:  Once published, this book had a wonderful reception!  Among other honors, Hearts of Stone was named an Editors’ Choice Selection of the Historical Novels Review.

The Society of Midland Authors’ Children’s Literature Award winner!

Trouble at Fort La Pointe

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY

I thought about writing a story about the Great Lakes’ fur trade era for a long time.   Lake Superior is beautiful, and the region’s history is fascinating. From 1650 to 1850, the fur trade was the most important “business” in the area that now includes Wisconsin.  That’s longer than Wisconsin has been a state!

I do not have Native American ancestry, so I considered very carefully before deciding to write a story that involved Anishinabe people (or, as the French fur traders were more likely to call them, Ojibwe people).

During this period I was working for public television, helping create and script instructional video programs such as New Dawn of Tradition:  A Wisconsin Powwow.  I learned a lot about Native American history, culture, and tribal sovereignty by studying, visiting tribal educators on many of Wisconsin’s reservations, and attending an American Indian Studies Summer Institute sponsored by the Menominee Culture Institute and the Department of Public Instruction.

I decided to write a story that focused on the meeting of two very different cultural groups, the Anishinabe and the French.  My main character, Suzette, would be a blend of those two cultures.  The story takes on what is today known as Madeline Island, in Lake Superior, in northern Wisconsin.

People of mixed heritage, like Suzette, played an important role in helping Ojibwe people and white traders learn about each other.  (Image courtesy Fort William Historical Park.)

I discussed my story idea with some of the Anishinabe educators I’d met.  And when American Girl invited me to submit an idea for their brand-new line of History Mysteries, I knew just what time, place, and theme to suggest!

Then I got busy.  Next stop:  Madeline Island.  The area where Fort La Pointe stood has changed a great deal over the years, but spending time on the island helped me imagine what the landscape might have been like in the 1730s.

The Madeline Island Museum collection includes several pieces displaying a blend of cultures, such as beaded moccasins and decorative items made from tin. (Image courtesy Madeline Island Museum)

I’ve also been lucky enough to visit a number of other historic sites that help bring the fur trade era to life in my imagination:  Fort William Historical Park in Thunder Bay, Ontario; Grand Portage National Monument, Grand Portage, Minnesota; Colonial Michilimackinac, Mackinaw City, MI; Waswagoning, Lac du Flambeau, WI.  I hope the photographs below help you imagine Suzette’s world, too.

At Waswagoning, a recreated village on the Lac du Flambeau Indian Reservation, I learned about traditional Anishinabe life. This guide showed me how Suzette would have started a fire and cooked a meal.

Suzette might have slept in a lodge like this.

An interpreter at Grand Portage showed me different items made from birchbark…

…including this cradleboard.

Furs were dried…

And stretched…

Before being packed into bales, ready for transport.

Voyageurs, like Suzette’s Papa, had to be very strong to lift the heavy bales.  They took the bales to cities faraway markets.

On portages, voyageurs had to carry the bales from one lake or river to the next. (Image courtesy Fort William Historical Park.)

Furs from the Great Lakes region were made into warm, waterproof garments—such as a hat like this one.  Trade goods included kettles, knives, beads, and blankets.

Everyone looked forward to the day the voyageurs arrived, carrying goods—and a gentleman or two. (Image courtesy Fort William Historical Park.)

Clerks and officers ran the trading posts and lived indoors.  This hall is at Grand Portage National Monument.

Meanwhile, the voyageurs lived with their families for the short summer, or in makeshift shelters like this.

A clerk, such as Suzette’s friend in Trouble at Fort La Pointe, might have used a desk like this one.

Wealthy post owners might have used something fancier, like this desk at Grand Portage National Monument.

If you have the chance to visit northern Wisconsin, or anywhere around the Great Lakes, I hope you’ll find time to visit one of these great historic sites.

If you use your imagination at places like Fort Michilimackinac, you’ll soon be hearing the echos of the voyageurs’ songs rippling over the waters.

PS: Since Trouble at Fort La Pointe was published, several people have asked why I chose to write about the fur trade era–don’t I like animals?  I do, very much!  (In fact, I’ve been a vegetarian for 40 years.)  But the fur trade era was an important chapter in our history, and ignoring it would be a disservice to all the children, women, and men involved.  At the heart of this book is a story about a family facing challenges, and the fur trade is merely the backdrop.

Trouble at Fort La Pointe was my first mystery, so I was thrilled when it was nominated for the Edgar Award for Best Children’s Mystery by Mystery Writers of America.  I traveled to New York city for the festivities and the awards banquet.  My book didn’t win, but it was still very exciting to be there!

That’s my husband Scott Meeker on the left, and my AG editor Peg Ross on the right.

23,000 Candles

A powerful and poignant tribute to Civil War soldiers takes place each December on the rolling hills near Sharpsburg, Maryland. The Antietam National Battlefield Memorial Illumination honors those men who fell during the battle of Antietam in 1862.

As many as 1,400 volunteers prepare a candle for each man who fell during the Battle of Antietam in 1862, and arrange them over the field.

All photos on this page are from Antietam National Battlefield, 2012.

As dusk falls, candles begin to glow.

A five-mile driving tour takes visitors winding through the battlefield.

Around each bend, over each rise—more candles. There are 23,000 candles, one for each missing, wounded, or killed soldier.

I spent many years wandering the field and reading about the battle while researching Too Afraid To Cry:  Maryland Civilians in the Antietam Campaign.  I know the numbers by heart. And yet, the Illumination brings a more visceral kind of understanding. The sheer volume of luminaries is overwhelming.

At the same time, each fragile flame is precious.  Every candle represents not just one life lost or changed forever, but a cascade of grief that included family and other loved ones.  Every candle represents dreams unfulfilled, accomplishments undone, children unborn.

Last September, on the 150th anniversary of the battle, I had the enormous honor of speaking at the battlefield. My presentation focused on local civilians, but the greater message was the same:  In this place, good people suffered and died. I did my best to convey what I know of those events in 1862, but I’m sure  that the impact of hearing my words pales against the experience of seeing the Memorial Illumination .

I write this on one of the shortest, darkest days of the calendar year, as our nation mourns the tragedy in Newtown, CT.  I share these photos in the spirit of faith and hope to all those who have lost loved ones, recently or long ago.  They are not forgotten.  They will never be forgotten.

The Antietam National Battlefield Memorial Illumination is held in cooperation with the American Business Women’s Association and the Washington County Convention and Visitors’ Bureau.  For more information, visit the Antietam National Battlefield website.

A Special Ship – And A Special Invitation

When I was asked to create an 1812 character for American Girl, I set out to learn everything I could about that period. The very first thing I did was plan a visit to the USS Constitution and the USS Constitution Museum in Boston. Why? Well, I’ll share that in a moment.

First, I want to let everyone know that Museum staff have planned a wonderful event to celebrate publication of the Caroline Abbott books, the important role the ship played during the War of 1812, and the ways children’s lives were touched by those momentous events. If you live in the area, I hope you will join us at 2 PM on October 7. (If you don’t live nearby, but you know someone who does, I hope you’ll share this information with them.)

Attendees can dress up and enjoy an 1812 tea. I’ll present an illustrated program providing a behind-the-scenes glimpse of Caroline’s world. We’ll have time for questions, door prizes, autographs, photos, and tea. Then everyone can visit the USS Constitution Museum and take a tour of USS Constitution, a ship that actually fought in the War of 1812–just like those Caroline Abbott knew at Sackets Harbor.

Illustration from Meet Caroline. (Artwork by Robert Papp)

Tickets cost $12.50, which includes the special program, tea, and tours. To reserve your tickets, call 618-426-1812, ext. 113.

So why am I so excited about this event? Well, there aren’t many opportunities for any of us to literally touch history. The USS Constitution defeated four English warships during the War of 1812. That accomplishment gave rise to the ship’s nickname, “Old Ironsides.”

One of the active-duty tour guides on the USS Constitution.

Touring the ship and imagining the men who once lived and fought aboard is a moving experience.

Can you imagine the crewmen who once walked these floors…

…and slept in hammocks like these?

Touring made me feel like the 1812 sailors had just stepped out for a moment.

And the USS Constitution Museum is a wonderful place to visit, and to imagine what your life might have been if you’d lived two hundred years ago.

In my books, Caroline likes learning to tie new knots.

Exhibits like this one helped me imagine Caroline and her world.

If you’ve read Meet Caroline, you know that her cousin Oliver planned to travel Lake Ontario as a merchant-sailor. This exhibit showed how he would transport livestock from the dock to his ship!

On my last visit to the USS Constitution Museum, I had great fun exploring the exhibits—and seeing how much fun kids were having as they tried swinging in a sailor’s hammock, raising a sail, dressing up as a sailor, and lots more.

I’m looking forward to sharing this special place with readers.  I hope to see some of you there!

Abraham Lincoln’s Mirrors

Historical objects are most valuable, I think, for the stories they reveal about their original owners.

A few months ago I visited Springfield, IL with my family. In addition to touring the Lincoln Museum, which I wrote about in The First Lady’s Gown, we visited the Lincoln Home National Historic Site.

I was impressed in a big-picture way because preservationists managed to save not just the Lincoln home, but much of a four-block area.

It was easy to imagine the Lincoln family in the context of their neighborhood. We visited both during the day and after dark, and the setting was evocative.

But as so often happens, it was a small thing that I found most compelling. Two things, actually:  original mirrors in the Lincoln home.

One was in the downstairs parlor once used for private family gatherings. The ranger giving the tour did a marvelous job of conjuring  mental pictures of the family relaxing away from public view—Mary sewing or reading, Abraham playfully wrestling with his sons on the floor, their dog Fido curled up nearby.

Then the ranger pointed to a mirror on the wall. “It’s my favorite piece in the house,” he said. “Imagine all of the scenes that mirror has reflected.”

The second mirror was a small shaving mirror in an upstairs bedroom. It hangs at a height that would have been appropriate for Lincoln, and is believed to be the mirror Lincoln himself mentioned in a story he told several times.

On the night of Lincoln’s first presidential election, he was relaxing upstairs and happened to glance in the mirror. He saw two reflections of his face. Lincoln looked away, looked back. It happened again.

Mary Todd Lincoln interpreted her husband’s experience to mean this: He would be elected president twice, but not survive the second term.

Months have passed since our visit to Springfield, and a lot of the details—even fascinating ones, about things I want to remember—are already fuzzy. But I won’t soon forget those two stories.  One heart-warming, one heart-breaking…both preserved in glass.

Water, Water Everywhere, Nor Any Drop To Drink

So said Samuel Taylor Coleridge in his famous ballad, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  I suspect that some of the former light keepers at Pottawatomie Lighthouse (Rock Island, WI) muttered the same phrase.

Pottawatomie Lighthouse, built in 1858.

My husband Scott and I have had the privilege of doing docent duty there four times. We are proud members of The Friends of Rock Island (FORI), the volunteer support group which (in collaboration with the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources) has done an extraordinary job of preserving, protecting, and interpreting the lighthouse.

The lighthouse has many tales to tell, but one of the stories that I find particularly compelling is the relationship between the people who once tended this lighthouse and water.

Pottawatomie sit on a cliff on Rock Island, in Lake Michigan. In the 1830s, a group of Detroit merchants and shipowners petitioned Congress to establish a light station on the island, in order to guide captains safely through the channel and on into the growing port of Green Bay. The petition was successful, and in 1836, David Corbin took up residence as first keeper.

View from cliff-top.  Beautiful, but a long way down.

It was rugged duty.  There was no easy way down the cliff, so Corbin hauled his water from a more sheltered landing over a mile away. As time permitted, he cleared trees and hacked a lane down to that small bay.  He kept a pony, and likely used it to haul water back to the isolated station.

His stone cottage was so poorly constructed that water condensed on the inner walls. But every gallon needed for cooking, cleaning, watering his garden, tending his pony, and maintaining the light had to be lugged in from the landing or captured from rainfall.

In 1858 a new lighthouse was constructed, designed to house two families. It included a gutter system to capture rainwater from the roof, and store it in cellar cisterns. Residents could pump water into their kitchen—pretty fancy!

Part of the original gutter system.

Rainwater stored in cellar cisterns could be pumped directly into the kitchen.

But by the 1880s, the cisterns failed and were pronounced unrepairable. That period was marked by several seasons of drought. Keepers begged the Lighthouse Service to dig a well. The Service seemed to be unconcerned. Stairs were constructed down the cliff to the beach below.

Some of the original stone steps leading to cliff’s edge.

For decades, families once again hauled every drop of water needed at the station either from the harbor over a mile away, or up 154 steps from the beach below the lighthouse.

And the staircase leading down to the water. (A modern replacement, but you get the idea.)

Old photos show that families kept big gardens. Some raised chickens and cows at the station, and grew hay. They were responsible for keeping the entire station spotless and ready for inspection at any moment. One keeper, William Betts, vented his frustration in the official log:  If the men who pretend to keep up repairs at the light station do not provide for a water supply before long, I shall quit this business. (July 31, 1884)

William’s wife Emily, who served as assistant keeper, appears as a character in my third Chloe Ellefson mystery, The Light Keeper’s Legacy (coming in October).  I wove in mention of the Betts’ frustration with the water situation. My first obligation is to tell an entertaining mystery that keeps readers turning the pages…but I hope that the book also provides a glimpse into the challenges faced by the Betts family and other long-gone keepers.

What Would You Bring?

What did immigrant children bring to American in the 1800s?

Two girls at home in Sweden.

Last week I gave a History Mystery tour at Old World Wisconsin, the historic site featured in my Chloe Ellefson mysteries for adults, and we talked about the difficult choices immigrants made as they packed their trunks for the new world. What to take, what to leave behind?

The conversation made me think of Kirsten, one of the American Girl historical characters.

Kirsten left Sweden with her family in the 1850s, and settled in Minnesota. When I was invited to write a mystery about Kirsten, I wanted to create a plot that would present an interesting mystery, but also touch readers’ hearts. The Runaway Friend is about a boy who disappears just when Kirsten’s family needs his help with the harvest.

It’s also about the challenges faced by women and girls when they found themselves half-way around the world from the life they once knew. At such a time  objects from home became especially precious. Since most of the items packed into immigrant trunks had to be practical, those pieces that didn’t serve an important purpose must have been real treasures.

Immigrant trunks on display at Gammelgården Museum in Minnesota.

Children were probably lucky if they were able to bring a single toy. Most of the children leaving Europe during that period wouldn’t have had a lot of toys, of course, but still…there would have been very little room for anything nonessential.

While I was in Minnesota exploring the area where many Swedish people settled, I found this lovely little Scandinavian bentwood box in an antiques store.  What might have been kept inside?

At the same store I found some clay marbles. The combination made me imagine a girl carefully tucking some small treasures—like a few marbles—inside the box for safekeeping.

Marbles would have been a perfect toy for immigrant children. They were small enough to carry easily. They could be played with alone, or with others. Anyone could scratch a circle in the dust and start a quick game.

I used marbles, a small box, and the idea of making do with few toys when I wrote The Runaway Friend. I hope that the story helps readers imagine life as it might have been for immigrant children one hundred and fifty or so years ago.

Even better, I hope the story inspires readers to imagine themselves back in time, faced with challenges and choices.

If your family lived in Kirsten’s era, and you told you could only take one treasure to your new home, what would you bring?

Syttende Mai—Old Traditions, New Directions

I happened to be in Decorah, Iowa last week on Syttende Mai, Norway’s Constitution Day. Decorah goes all out with a Nordic Fest in July, so I knew the Syttende Mai celebration would be low-key. It was, and it was delightful.

I was lucky enough to be invited to attend the local Sons of Norway – Valdres Lodge Norwegian Constitution Day Dinner on May 15th, which was a treat even without reference to the holiday. First, I met a lot of lovely people.

Gathering in the fellowship hall.

Second, I love any gathering that includes traditional foods.

Lefse, which I like best spread with a little butter and brown sugar, then rolled up.

Several options for dessert, all traditional Norwegian favorites.

And third, the meal and meeting took place at the beautiful Washington Prairie Lutheran Church outside of town. This was the congregation (then known as the Little Iowa congregation) that called Ulrik Vilhelm Koren  to serve as pastor in 1853. Ulrik’s wife Elisabeth accompanied him, and The Diary of Elisabeth Koren, 1853-1855 is a must-read for anyone interested in the immigrant experience.

The church is on a hill, surrounded by farmland. I can imagine people looking up from their labors and taking comfort from seeing the spire.

The modern church clearly cherishes its history.  And the people I met at the dinner do too. I’ve visited ethnic festivals in towns where the celebration has become part of the community’s heritage, more so than the people who actually live there now.  Not so here.

After-dinner entertainment included a beautiful mini-recital by Rachel Storlie.

On to May 17th. One of the things I like about Syttende Mai is that it is a non-military holiday, and festivities often focus on children. In Decorah, children celebrate with a traditional parade from the courthouse to Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum.

Perfect weather for a parade!

The parade was followed by a street performance by The Nordic Dancers of Decorah.

Students audition for the Nordic Dancers in the third grade, and make a ten-year commitment!

The Junior and Senior Nordic Dancers performed some of the  thirty-plus traditional folk dances in their repertoire.

The dancers also invited anyone in the crowd to come out and join them for a dance.

A good time was had by all!

Later that day came a wonderful climax to the festivities:  opening of a formal exhibit in one of Vesterheim’s galleries featuring the work of 4th grade students.  They had spent six weeks visiting the museum, studying the immigrant and pioneer experience.

How many fourth graders get to see their work formally displayed in a museum? Pretty cool.

Each student then chose a special project, and wrote an immigrant diary.

I was impressed with the projects!

Many kids mentioned that working on their project with a parent or grandparent was the best part of the experience.  They also became comfortable spending time in a museum.

Intergenerational sharing was one of the program highlights, both during the project phase and at the grand opening.

Some of the kids focused on Norwegian culture and heritage for their projects.  Others used Norwegian studies as a springboard to delve into their own cultural identity—whatever that might be—or a group that interested them.

Which is what visiting places like Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum, or a Sons of Norway Lodge’s Syttende Mai celebration, so special—even for non-Norwegians like me.  It’s fun to explore the traditions and heritage preserved by descendants of the Scandinavian pioneers who settled the area in the 19th century. It’s also meaningful to consider how their stories reflect our own.

Special Old World Wisconsin Tour — And Tickets Giveaway!

Old World Wisconsin is the premier outdoor history museum in Wisconsin, and one of the very best in the country. If you have ever visited Old World, then you know what I mean. If you haven’t yet, then a memorable experience awaits you.

Starting in 1982, I spent twelve years there as an interpreter and curator. When I wrote my first two Chloe Ellefson Historic Sites mystery books, Old World Murder and The Heirloom Murders, I set many of the key scenes in the museum’s public and private areas that I knew so well.

If you’d enjoy seeing where many of those scenes take place, and discussing them, then please join me for an exclusive, before-hours/behind-the-scenes guided tour through the historic buildings that make up a big part of Chloe’s world.

You’ll also have the special opportunity to hear about the historic buildings from Old World Curator Marty Perkins, who knows more about the historic site than anyone else.

The inaugural tour will be held Sunday morning June 10th. Attendance is limited to facilitate Q&A. Prior registration is required. In addition to the tour, tickets provide access to a group reception, and to the museum for the rest of the day. This is a fundraiser – all proceeds go to support Old World. For additional details, including how to sign-up, click HERE.

Want to attend, but the gas pump ate your ticket money?

Don’t despair! I’m giving away one free pair of tickets to the June 10th tour. If you’re 18 or older, you could be the lucky winner. To enter the contest drawing, just send me an email at k.ernst at kathleenernst.com (replace “at” with @). I’ll announce the winner next Monday, May 21st, so reply before then (just one entry per person please).

I hope to see you on the tour!