Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 10.1

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Lulu Valentino chaos outside train Arrival 1

Lulu & Valentino see chaos outside the train when it passes into a Pittura Metafisica, by Rob Goldstein

Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays, Sheiks and Shebas! I’m happy to see you here at the station for this diesel-punk, pantser story. Artist, Rob Goldstein created a new video that serves as a visual recap for the series up to this point. Rob’s post, Hullaba Lulu: The Music Goes Round talks about what he did. If you want a more comprehensive review, he generously made a post with links to all the past chapters.

(Click here for Rob’s entire collection of videos.)

This time I didn’t even make it to the first of the three things Rob sent for our tenth chapter… but I’m still calling this episode Chapter 10.1. It wasn’t an official “thing” but as I was writing, I realized that I needed an electromagnet. So that’s my title for this segment. The action picks up where Chapter 9.3 stopped.

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Valentino told Gramps and Lulu that he is connected to the train and can’t be separated from it. Worse, he said he doesn’t have long to live.

“I have kept the knowledge to myself, because you did not share it,” Moon began. “But I know that your connection to the train has deteriorated. I think the damage to the Tesla coil slowly eroded as your condition became worse.”

Valentino reclining atop his Rolls-Royce outside the Cotton Club, by Rob Goldstein

Valentino’s train was out of control and headed straight for the Cotton Club. However, instead of crashing into the nightclub, the train traveled into a Pittura Metafisica mural on the outside wall of the club. That created a strange vortex, pulling the Rolls-Royce and all the angel-bots into the painting along with the train.

Do you hear Valentino’s trumpet?

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 10.1

Electromagnet

Rocking horse bot pulled after train The Pyramid 1

Things being pulled behind the train as it passes into a Pittura Metafisica

As the train went into the Pittura Metafisica of the bizarre Egyptian scene, I was mortified. Valentino couldn’t be physically far away from the train. Worse he said he didn’t have long to live. So, I had to think that any separation at all would be more than he could take.

Yet I didn’t have time to focus on that thought because as the train charged into the painting it pulled the Rolls-Royce, the clockwork angel-bots, and a few nearby objects into the painting with it.

Colors whirled outside the vehicle’s windows. Valentino grew pale and his hands shook. He was telling Gramps something about “vortex” but I could barely hear them over the noise Rose and Pearl made.

Vortex, by Rob Goldstein

Giving a girlish scream wasn’t something I was likely to do, not after what Valentino said about dying back at the Cotton Club. That weighed too heavily on my mind for me to have half a thought about being pulled inside a painting.

Besides, it all happened so fast, there wasn’t time to divide one thought from the other. My pals had not been at the table. They didn’t know about Valentino. There hadn’t been time to tell them, but I figured that wasn’t mine to tell anyway. I didn’t know whether or not Valentino meant it to be a secret.

Our immediate peril became clear. Outside, two angel-bots seemed to lose their hold on the vehicle. When Ginger cried out I knew one of those bots was Dynamite. By his blueish coloring the other bot had to be Moon.

I gasped in consternation as they tumbled away from the Rolls. Then I realized that they let go of the Rolls deliberately in a rash attempt to reach the train. As Dynamite hurtled forward he grabbed hold of the railing on the train. He caught Moon’s arm and the two of them gradually climbed onto the train and hurried inside.

Bot Valentino Lulu inside train windows Flight to Egypt-4

Train entering Pittura Metafisica

Soon all the angel-bots had made a chain, in much the same way that people would make a human chain to rescue a skater who fell through the ice. Although I had only seen that done in pictures. Clumsy as I was, that was one calamity that had never befallen me. But then, I had never been ice skating.

Dynamite and Moon emerged from the train and wheeled out a machine about the size of a Victrola cabinet. It was topped with a cylinder and a lot of wires, and the cabinet had a bunch of knobs and even more wires. Valentino muttered the word electromagnet.

Moon twisted the knobs. I heard a loud hum. The automobile surged forward, connecting itself to the train. The angel-bots gathered to make sure it was firmly attached. Then they helped Pearl, Rose, Gramps, and me get on the train.

Briefly I wondered why the angel-bots weren’t stuck to the electromagnet. I supposed they really were made from gold, rather than from some fake metal. Before I could be astonished by that fact, a question from Pearl caused me to whirl away from the machine and the bots.

“Where is Valentino? Is he still in the Rolls?” Pearl asked.

Valentino with Angel-bots, by Rob Goldstein

There was commotion around the automobile. Valentino had collapsed. So many of the angel-bots surrounded him that I couldn’t tell whether he was even conscious.

I tried to follow the clockwork figures who carried Valentino, but there were so many that they blocked the corridor. I could see my grandfather’s hat. He was taller than the others. I was relieved that Gramps was with him.

Suddenly Dynamite and Ginger were beside me.

“Moon is quite skilled. He can’t cure Valentino, but I know he will help,” Dynamite said in a comforting southern drawl.

“You should get some rest,” Ginger added.

I hadn’t noticed we were right outside my sleeper car. Ginger opened my door and motioned me inside. She plumped the pillows on my bed. Next thing I knew, Dynamite handed me a snifter of brandy.

Angel-bots looking after Lulu, by Rob Goldstein

I stood motionless, gazing in fascination at the chaos that fled by my window. Wildly shifting scenes rushed past.

Then, strangest of all I saw a vast multicolored wing. Whatever it was must have been flying directly above the train.

***

The End

***

Holly Hannah! I’m glad everyone is back on the train. But applesauce! Lulu has no idea whether Valentino is okay, but I’m glad it looks like Gramps is with him. I wonder what the Sam Hill has “vast multicolored” wings? Tune in again next week to see if the “things” answer any of those questions!

Real World Notes

Westinghouse surgical electromagnet 1915

Ectromagnet. A device in which a magnetic field is produced by an electric current. William Sturgeon invented the electromagnet in 1825. Sturgeon’s device came a mere five years after a Danish scientist discovered that electricity emitted magnetic waves. Sturgeon harnessed this idea and conclusively demonstrated that the stronger the electric current, the stronger the magnetic force.

His first electromagnet was a horseshoe-shaped piece of iron wrapped with a loosely wound coil. When a current was passed through the coil the electromagnet became magnetized, and when the current was stopped, the coil was demagnetized. It could lift nine pounds with a seven-ounce piece of iron wrapped with wires through which the current of a single cell battery was sent.

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog. You’ll find more fabulous images there, and terrific blog posts too.

Stay tuned for more spontaneously written fun. The things Rob sent to drive Chapter 10 are The Theremin, Wave Frequency Machine and Hidden Door. Your guess is as good as mine for what I’ll do with those things.

I hope to see you will be at the station again next week to catch the diesel-punk train.

Thanks for visiting. You’re the berries!

***

Now some shameless self-promotion for my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, and her friends.

Bijou front only 2

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Novel-book-The Three Things Serial Story-Teagan Riordain Geneviene-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-spotlight-author

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 9.3

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Lulu and Valentino dance in a Pittura Metafisica, by Rob Goldstein

Hey there, Sheiks and Shebas! Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays. You already know I’m being a pantser as I write this story — flying by the seat of my pants, not planning anything. All the details, major and minor are triggered by the sets of things from Rob Goldstein, who creates the gorgeous images and videos for this series. (Click here for Rob’s entire collection of videos.)

Today I’m featuring music from the Jazz Age. There are videos for songs mentioned in this chapter from YouTube as well as some from Rob. I’m giving you those music breaks since this episode is about 2,000 words in length. That will help you save your place if you don’t have time. If you don’t like long posts — you’ve been warned.

With today’s episode of Hullaba Lulu I’ve finally gotten to the third “thing” for Chapter 9 of the series. The action picks up where Chapter 9.2 stopped.

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Everyone but Lulu and the rose-gold angel-bot, Ginger had already left the train to go to the Cotton Club. To make up time, they took Valentino’s Rolls-Royce. Unfortunately, Lulu doesn’t know how to drive!

Valentino and the trumpet, by Rob Goldstein

This time

Valentino makes a dire revelation.

Now to Chapter 9.3. Do you hear Valentino’s trumpet?

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 9.3

Star of David

The runaway Rolls-Royce ploughed down the street sign for 142^nd Street and Lenox Avenue. That slowed the automobile. On the outer wall of the building I saw a big mural that had pyramids, a sphinx, and a strange tower. I had only been to the Cotton Club a few times. I didn’t remember any murals on the outside, but the posters on the sidewalk looked familiar.

The Rolls-Royce bounced up over the curb and rolled to a stop right in front of the door to the Cotton Club.

Boom-boom had managed to bring the fortuneteller booth that housed the automaton, Sipsing. He and another angel-bot used a hand dolly to wheel the booth. I wondered at Boom-boom’s fascination with the gypsy automaton. It was not nearly as advanced as the angel-bots and it couldn’t communicate the way they did. Maybe it was like a pet to him.

Cotton Club-Egyptian outside The Flight to Egypt-12

Cotton Club with Pittura Metafisica, by Rob Goldstein

Ginger and I got out of the vehicle. I bent over to inspect Rolls. A bit of steam trickled out from under the hood, but I figured it would be okay.

A group of angel-bots ran out and hustled us into the club. As the door opened I heard the song “I Wanna Be Loved by You,” and knew that it must be Dynamite singing. He carried a torch for Ginger.

The rose-gold angel-bot walked into the club just as he sang Boop-boop-de-boop! Applause erupted from the audience when they saw Ginger. With so many bots in the crowd, the clapping sounded like hundreds of little cymbals. I gave Ginger a little push to get her up onto the stage with Dynamite.

Dynamite at The Cotton Club, by Rob Goldstein

I had a glimpse of Rose and Pearl headed backstage. I figured they would sing or dance, or both. Those Shebas loved the spotlight. My eyes found Gramps and Valentino at a table, so I joined them. Gramps commented on the mural I noticed outside when I arrived. My grandfather asked if Valentino painted it. The enigmatic man nodded.

Earlier when I wondered if the Cotton Club might be like the strange version of Atlantic City, I was right. I was pretty sure it was “sideways” too. I had never seen a more elegant, sophisticated group of people at a night club. Their clothes were extraordinary. Those weren’t just glad rags, they were ecstatic! Wild and wonderful colors and designs, they didn’t conform to any convention or norm of fashion I had ever seen.

Valentino, by Rob Goldstein

A woman at the table next to ours wore an exquisite Star of David pendant. It was made from some rare and precious metal that was unknown to me, except that the angel-bot I named Moon had the same metallic blue finish. In the center of the star was a sapphire as big as an eyeball.

When I looked at Valentino, I saw the woman’s Star of David reflected in the depths of his dark eyes.

Dynamite and Ginger left the stage. They were followed by Pearl and Rose. I took a sharp breath when I heard the first chord of the music. I hated that song! I slouched down in my chair and tried to pretend that I didn’t exist as Rose took the first part.

“You can bring Pearl, she’s a darned nice girl,” Rose sang and pointed to her friend. “But don’t bring Lulu.”

I slid farther down in my chair.

“You can bring Rose with her turned up nose. But don’t bring Lulu!” Pearl sang and they both pointed to me.

In utter mortification, my eyes wildly searched for the exit. Gramps laughed at the antics of my pals. Valentino smiled.

“Lulu, are you well?” he asked me in a puzzled voice.

My eyes and nose were the only thing above the tabletop, I had sunk down so far. I realized there was only one way around the embarrassing scene. Like the man said, “If you can’t lick ’em, jine ’em.”

With a motion to angel-bots Wicky, Wacky, and Woo I went to the stage and we sang “Back in Nagasaki.” When I belted out the words, “Hot ginger and dynamite,” the angel-bots in the audience got so excited that some of them jumped up onto the table tops.

As I went onstage, I saw Pearl and Rose move onto the dance-floor with a couple of swell looking Oliver Twists. Those four were such great dancers that I almost forgot the song while I watched them. However, I lost track of my pals while I sang. When my number was over, I went back to the table with Gramps and Valentino. The evening was beginning to wind down anyway.

“I haven’t seen you leave that train of yours without the trumpet,” Gramps commented to Valentino. “I don’t pretend to understand the many mysteries of the train, but it seems like you can use the trumpet to make the train come to you.”

The pained look on the enigmatic man’s face suggested my grandfather hit a nerve. Valentino gazed down at the brightly polished horn. He swallowed hard. His eyes were haunted as he looked from Gramps to me.

Gramps and Valentino, Tesla machine on the left

“I’m not able to go more than a short distance from the train,” Valentino began in a rough voice, but stopped to clear his throat. “Lately I can’t leave the train at all unless I have some aspect of it with me. The trumpet, the Rolls-Royce, the Ouija board, and other things are all aspects of the train.”

“When your daughter, Lauren traveled with me I underestimated her,” Valentino began with a regretful look at Gramps. “There was another passenger, the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. His name was Nikola Tesla. Your daughter mesmerized him.”

Both men turned their eyes briefly to me. Maybe they thought I would be defensive. I didn’t know how my grandfather might feel about something negative being said about my mother, but I already understood what kind of person she was.

Inside the Cotton Club, by Rob Goldstein

“Wait a minute,” I objected. “I’ve heard of Tesla. He was too smart to be undone by a choice bit of calico. Lauren couldn’t have been smarter than him.”

“No,” Valentino continued. “However, Tesla was fragile in a way. He also had phobias that Lauren used to her advantage. I’ve never seen anyone get so upset at the touch of human hair. Or the sight of a woman’s earrings… It’s no wonder Nikola liked the angel-bots.”

“Lauren dissected an angel-bot to take the part that gives them intuition. She used that plus alcohol and drugs to mesmerize Tesla. Then she used the knowledge she pulled from him, along with the angel-bot’s mind… I think she meant to take over the train and failed. But in her attempt, she altered my connection to the train. That’s why I can’t leave the train without having an aspect of it with me. Now that glitch in my affinity with the train has grown,” Valentino stated, but paused and stared down at the trumpet.

Lauren on the train, by Rob Goldstein

“As my affinity with the train deteriorates, so do I,” Valentino explained. “I haven’t much longer to live.”

Applause for the jazz band interrupted that horrible revelation. My grandfather was speaking quietly to Valentino. Both their voices had serious tones. I was too stunned by what Valentino divulged to hear what they said. I was speechless. I couldn’t even look at either of them. I stared blindly at that trumpet and desperately fought tears.

The crowd had thinned. A group was gathered around the fortuneteller booth. The familiar words of the automaton cut into my fugue. Dazed, I turned to watch.

“Sipsing the Gypsy King knows all, sees all. What would you divine?” it asked.

Question after question was posed. The automaton dealt tarot cards in response. Sometimes he made a mechanical remark about the cards. Other times he remained silent. Though I stared, I wasn’t paying attention until I realized that Sipsing’s audience had quieted to worried sounding murmurs.

Valentino abruptly stalked to the group. His long legs took him across the room in a few strides. His expression reminded me of the way he looked when he pulled me away from that Pittura Metafisica he’d painted.

The Gilded Tarot, The Chariot

“Sipsing!” Valentino commanded the automaton. “What is wrong? What do you divine?”

The fortuneteller dealt a single tarot card ― the Chariot.

Valentino went pale.

Just then Moon, the engineering-bot burst into the club. His blue-gold finish was easily recognizable. I saw several scorch marks marred the shine.

“You were to remain with the train,” Valentino challenged the angel-bot.

Moon was so distraught that could barely form a sentence. His clockwork mechanisms clicked and whirred erratically.

“It’s the Tesla coil,” the engineering-bot blurted out. “It’s shooting lightning randomly, haphazardly!”

In his excitement, Moon’s Cuban accent more pronounced than it was when I met him. However, that wasn’t what took me aback. Just before I left the train, I had nearly knocked the Tesla machine off its shelf. I caught it, but when I put it back, I wasn’t sure if I set it down exactly the way it had been.

Valentino looked at me and I tried to act casually, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I noticed the Tesla coil was turned backward. Naturally that wouldn’t do any harm,” Moon added.

Bless the blue-gold bot, he gave me a quick reassuring glance. I relaxed and looked Valentino on the eyes, and then raised my eyebrows inquiringly.

“But that made me examine the device,” Moon continued. “I found that it had been changed, sabotaged. It appears the initial sabotage was done quite some time ago.”

Moon paused awkwardly, looking down at his feet. I placed my hand on his arm and urged him to continue. He looked at Valentino.

Valentino cleared his throat uncomfortably. I gradually became aware of a noise outside the club.

“Surely that didn’t cause you to leave the train,” Valentino stated.

“It’s the train!” Moon cried. “The Tesla coil triggered the train. Neither the control angel nor I could get it in check. It will break free any moment.”

At that moment the trumpet spun around on the table. Of its own accord the horn blared out the notes that had been sensuous when Valentino played them ― and it played the notes backward.

I thought Valentino’s eyes would pop out of his head. That vein in his throat started throbbing. The ground trembled. The roar of the train filled the room. I knew it must be headed right for the Cotton Club.

Everyone ran outside. I saw that Pittura Metafisica of pyramids and a sphinx that Valentino painted on the wall at some past date. My eye was drawn to the sphinx because oddly, it wore a Star of David as an earring ― and the earring was glowing. Abruptly I realized the odd tower was a Tesla tower. The picture came to life and lightning bolts shot from the tower as the train bore down upon us. The pyramid in the painting started to glow.

Image by Teagan R. Geneviene

Valentino played the trumpet furiously, but it had no effect on the rapidly approaching train.

It was in sight by then and looming large. Strangely it was the caboose that headed toward us. The train was going backward.

Valentino yelled something about the Rolls Royce. Gramps made sure Pearl, Rose, and I got into the car. Some angel-bots squeezed into the car too. We were packed like sardines.

It looked like my grandfather meant to give up his seat. He would be left behind to whatever disaster headed our way. Then Ginger got in and pulled Gramps inside to sit in her lap. Any angel-bots that couldn’t fit inside the vehicle held onto the outside.

Somebody pressed the starter switch and Valentino hit the accelerator. The Rolls shot out of the way just as the caboose rolled past. I cringed and threw up my hands reflexively because I was sure the train would crash into the wall of the Cotton Club.

However, it went into the Pittura Metafisica. I don’t mean it hit the mural, I mean it went into it!

Since Valentino said he could not be separated from the train, I was horrified. He said he didn’t have long to live. The train vanished into the painting, Valentino would surely die right away!

Wake of train travel red photo Flight to Egypt-8

Image by Rob Goldstein

***

The End

***

Bushwa! Lulu is afraid Valentino is going to die. Well, he said he would if he’s separated from the train. Will there be time to save him? Tune in again next week!

Real World Notes

The Cotton Club. It was the place to be for music in the 1920s. The club’s beginning is a bit dubious with gangsters and such. In 1920, Jack Johnson, the first African-American heavyweight boxing champion, opened the Club Deluxe on 142nd Street and Lenox Avenue in the center of Harlem. Owney Madden, a white gangster, took over operations in 1923, and renamed the venue the Cotton Club. However, it was legendary for featuring black entertainers.

Art by Rob Goldstein

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog. You’ll find more fabulous images there, and terrific blog posts too.

Stay tuned for more spontaneously written fun. The things Rob sent to drive Chapter 10 promise to be a big challenge for me — Wave Frequency Machine, The Theremin, and The Oscillation Overthruster! Right now, I have no idea where the seat of my pantser pants will fly with those things. Wish me luck! I hope to see you on our diesel-punk train again next week.

Thanks for visiting. You’re the cat’s pajamas!

***

Now some shameless self-promotion for my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, and her friends.

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 9.2

Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Valentino and Lulu dance the Lindy Hop outside the Cotton Club, by Rob Goldstein

Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays. You know this story is spontaneously written. Saturday I followed the impulse to do a recap… before Wednesday. I added the rewind to one of the next set of things from Rob Goldstein who creates the gorgeous images and videos for this series. (Click here for the entire collection of videos.) So, that made the recap Chapter 9.1. Today’s episode of Hullaba Lulu brings us to Chapter 9.2 of the series.

My Writing Process

Sometimes it takes me a bit of storytelling to make my way to a “thing.” That is what happened here. So, I’ve divided this chapter yet again. I hope you enjoy the ride.

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

It looked like the angel-bots were up to some matchmaking for Dynamite and his blue surge, Ginger. They were excited that the Ouija board pointed to the Cotton Club as the train’s next destination. Lulu didn’t seem so thrilled.

The automat provided money. Even though it looked wrong, Boom-boom assured Lulu that nothing was amiss, including Bolshies or Russian spies. However, based on the strange currency, the she thinks that just as Atlantic City wasn’t the same place she knew, the Cotton Club might be similarly strange.

It’s time for Chapter 9.2. Do you hear Valentino’s trumpet?

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 9.2

Jukebox

Angle-bot, Valentino, and Lulu inside the train, by Rob Goldstein

“Lulu! Horsefeathers! Where did you go? C’mon. Everybody is ready to go to the Cotton Club,” Rose called.

The corridors of the train rang with Rose and Pearl separately, calling my name. They had split up to look for me. I didn’t mean to be coy. I wasn’t hiding, not exactly. I just wanted to be alone. When I should have been in my sleeper car, changing into my glad rags, I went to the darkened control room of the train instead.

Solemnly I poked around all the glosy glowy gismos. I touched the golden control angel statue with the tip of one finger – just because I wasn’t supposed to touch anything. I knew it was some sort of machine, but it couldn’t move around like the angel-bots.

My peripheral vision caused me to whirl back to face it. I could have sworn the angel’s eyes opened. Although they were closed. I walked away, then jumped around, intending to take it by surprise if its eyes were open. The eyes were closed.

Hmmm.

I moved to a device with a sphere and lightning blots that ran steadily to another machine.

The control room of Valentino’s train, by Rob Goldstein

“Hello, Miss. Your friends are looking for you,” an angel-bot commented as he entered the control room. “Do be careful. All the instruments are precisely set and require delicate handling,” he added in the typically matter-of-fact way of the clockwork creatures.

There was a subtle Spanish sound to his voice. Rather than regular gold like most of the bots, his finish had a bluish cast. He used the same manner of speaking as the others when he answered my question about his accent. He said his voice was from Cuba.

“What’s this thing?” I asked of the lightning bolt device.

“Ah! The Tesla coil. It was made by Nikola Tesla himself and gifted to Valentino,” the angel-bot explained with a tone of awe.

I had heard of Nikola Tesla. He sounded like a real grouch. No wonder Valentino knew him. Grouches of a feather… Maybe Tesla wore those pointy toed shoes too. Those dog kennels would make anybody grumpy.

Valentino and angle-bots, by Rob Goldstein

“Something seems rather off about the devise,” the angel-bot said with an inquisitive tilt to his bluish gold head. “I should—” he stopped talking and blinked at me as if I were suddenly the object of his curiosity. “Oh! Giver of Names, I didn’t realize it was you. Could I impose? I mean, if it is not too much trouble… Would you be so kind as to bestow a name upon this humble bot?”

I couldn’t help grinning. The angel-bots were downright zozzled with delight about the prospect of getting named. Again my mind went to songs in choosing a name. When the idea came to me I smiled. The clockwork man bounced on his toes in anticipation.

“Hmm, your voice is from Cuba, and there’s a bluish cast to your gold. It kind of makes me think of the— That’s it! How about, Moon? That’s from the song Cuban Moon,” I suggested.

My grin got bigger when the Orthophonic Victrola, which was part of the control room started playing the song. (Chapter 4)

Apparently Moon liked his name. In a flurry of clicks, flutters, and bounces he hurried away to tell his friends. I had no idea what he had been about to say he “should” do a moment before, but it had to do with that dangerous looking Tesla coil.

With one finger extended toward the lightning, I tried to work up the courage to touch it. Then Rose called my name from the doorway. It startled me so badly that I yelped. I jerked around, bumping into the Tesla machine as I turned. It wobbled dangerously, the lightning shot out a wild arc. I caught the machine before it could fall and hurriedly straightened it.

I wasn’t sure if the Tesla machine was facing the same way it was before. I thought maybe I placed it backwards. However, I didn’t want anyone to see that I nearly caused another hullaba calamity, as Pearl called my clumsiness. So I rushed toward the door.

“There you are! Pearl, she’s over here,” Rose called to our other friend. “Lulu, why aren’t you ready?”

“You to go ahead,” I said as Pearl hurried up to join us. “I’ll change and catch up with you in a jiffy.”

Lulu and angle-bots at bath time, by Rob Goldstein

I ushered my pals off the train and moped back to my sleeper car. It had cheered me up to give Moon the angel-bot his name, but that joy faded quickly. As I walked past the jukebox in my sitting room, “Cuban Moon” started to play. It was almost as if the machine meant to remind me of that cheerfulness, but it didn’t make me smile.

My eyebrows went up when the jukebox came on by itself. Everything on that train seemed to be fluky.

I’m no stupid tomato. From the beginning I realized the train was no ordinary engine. Although everyone else seemed to ignore that fact. Abruptly I wondered if it had anything to do with the reassuring pulse of the engine.

Could some kind of mesmerism be involved?

One thing was bothering me, making me sad. I was pretty sure that train could go anywhere. It was the only chance I would ever have to travel to faraway, exciting, glamorous places. Yet instead of going to any of the hundreds of dreamy places I could imagine, it took us to Atlantic City, where I had previously been dozens of times. Worse, it had already returned to New York, if not to my home borough. I was bitterly disappointed.

A screen concealed a changing area with a tall mirror, a cushioned ottoman, and a clothes tree. I was startled when an angel-bot stepped out from behind the screen.

“Were you unhappy with the gown, Miss? When I saw that you hadn’t changed into the black gown you wore when you boarded, I brought another,” the angel-bot told me.

The metal of that angel-bot was unique. She was rose-gold. I knew Dynamite was stuck on her.

“You must be Ginger!” I exclaimed and the angel-bot nodded. “I thought all the bots were eager to go to the Cotton Club. Why are you still here?”

“Yes, Miss. Thank you, Giver of Names,” she replied. “Yes, everyone loves the club. But I heard you were sad, so I will stay behind with you.”

How could Ginger have heard that I was sad? That as creepy as the jukebox or the Orthophonic Victrola playing the song I mentioned.

I remember how excited Wicky, Wacky, and Woo had been because they had arranged for Dynamite to sing to Ginger onstage at the Cotton Club. I couldn’t ruin that surprise for any of them.

Lulu’s new gown, by Rob Goldstein

So, I pretended enthusiasm that I didn’t feel. I admit that I actually did perk up when I saw the gorgeous gown Ginger brought. It was royal purple silk and looked like an Erté original. The rose-gold bot also brought a black boa to accessorize the gown.

“There’s a bit of a walk to the club,” Ginger began. “Will your kitten heels be suitable? Ah! But there is another way. We could take the Rolls-Royce!”

I remembered Valentino had that automobile parked on the street above my grandfather’s speakeasy. (Chapter 2) You had to admit, the guy knew how to put on the Ritz!

Ginger made sure I had the gown fastened properly and that the feather boa hung just so. Then she turned with a little dance step-kick and led me down the corridor.

We entered a dark car. The rose-gold angel-bot didn’t seem to notice the dim light. Ginger moved across the room and pulled a leaver. With a series of whirring gears, a wide door opened and a ramp lowered to the ground. Sunlight flooded the train car. The green Rolls-Royce shimmered in the light.

Ginger hopped into the passenger seat. I stood still.

“Miss, is anything the matter?” she asked.

“Well… I don’t know how to drive,” I confessed.

Lulu and Valentino with his Rolls-Royce, by Rob Goldstein

The angel-bot shrugged with head tilted and hands spread.

“Just press that button under the dash,” she instructed.

I sat down on the supple leather seat. The burled wood dash was polished to a soft glow. I wished I had a jorum of skee for courage. All I had was bubble gum, so I took some from my beaded evening bag (Chapter 1) and in short order, blew a big bubble. This seemed to delight Ginger. Her metal hands clapped together with a sound like little cymbals.

I pressed the starter button and hit the gas. The green Rolls-Royce shot out of the train and barreled toward the Cotton Club. A man on a bicycle and a guy selling hot pretzels for a nickel scattered out of our way. We were nearly at the front door of the club.

Suddenly I realized that I didn’t know how to stop!

***

The End

***

Real World Notes

Electric Starter: The first electric starter was installed on an Arnold, an adaptation of the Benz Velo, built in 1896 in East Peckham, England, by electrical engineer H. J. Dowsing. In 1903, Clyde J. Coleman invented and patented the first electric starter in America U.S. Patent 0,745,157.

Tesla Coil

Tesla Coil (Lightning Machine): A Tesla coil is an electrical resonant transformer circuit designed by inventor Nikola Tesla in 1891. Tesla used these circuits to conduct innovative experiments in electrical lighting, phosphorescence, X-ray generation, high frequency alternating current phenomena, electrotherapy, and the transmission of electrical energy without wires. Tesla coil circuits were used commercially in sparkgap radio transmitters for wireless telegraphy until the 1920s, and in medical equipment such as electrotherapy and violet ray devices.

Erté: His real name was Romain de Tirtoff, (born November 23, 1892, St. Petersburg, Russia—died April 21, 1990, Paris, France), a fashion illustrator of the 1920s and creator of visual spectacle for French music-hall revues. His designs included dresses and accessories for women; costumes and sets for opera, ballet, and dramatic productions; and posters and prints. (His byname was derived from the French pronunciation of his initials, R.T.) Britannica

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog. You’ll find more fabulous images there. He also writes wonderful blog posts.

Stay tuned for more spontaneously written fun. Next time I’ll conclude Chapter 9 with Star of David. Be sure to listen next week when the call of Valentino’s trumpet summons the diesel-punk train.

Thanks for visiting. You’re the cat’s pajamas!

***

Now some shameless self-promotion for my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, and her friends.

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 8

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Valentino and Lulu doing the Lindy Hop, by Rob Goldstein

Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays. Today’s episode of Hullaba Lulu brings us to Chapter 8 of the series. Rob Goldstein is back with more gorgeous images and videos (Click here for the entire collection of videos.)

A glimpse into my writing process

Even though this is a diesel-punk fantasy, I try to add some real world tidbits for you. Lulu seems to like to dance. Early on she did a bit of the Camel Walk. This time she’s doing an American dance which was born in Harlem, New York City in 1928 — the Lindy Hop.

This chapter has a bonus fourth thing. I really try to stay true to the three things as they are sent. “Pittura Metafisica” was supposed to be one of the Chapter 7 things (last week), not “Bubblegum.” However, the scene I imagined for that artsy term was too long to fit into that chapter, so we have Pittura Metafisica in Chapter 8. I didn’t want to leave a thing behind, so today there’s a fourth thing — Route 66.

Valentino uses his trumpet to summon the train, by Rob Goldstein

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Lauren vanished on the tilt-a-whirl. Gramps tried to go after her, but Valentino restrained him.

“You can’t reach her! The tilt-a-whirl never goes to the same destination twice!” Valentino repeated. “What if that wasn’t even Lauren?”

The ground trembled. I heard a loud bang! Behind us the giant Ferris wheel lurched. The A-frame structures holding the wheel collapsed.

The great wheel rolled inexorably toward us..

It’s time for Chapter 8. I think I hear Valentino’s trumpet.

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 8

Chanel No. 5, Pittura Metafisica, Videophone

and Route 66

Lulu and Valentino as the Ferris wheel gets dangerously close to the train

The screech of twisting, tearing metal overwhelmed every other sound. The great Ferris wheel, free of its frame rolled forward, crushing everything in its path.

In the distance I saw Tom Driberg running toward Valentino’s train. The group of men in dark coats, the ones Tom told me were Russian spies, blocked his path. Tom turned on his heel and made for the tilt-a-whirl. In a flurry of lights, the ride came to life again, spinning impossibly fast, just as it had when Lauren vanished. A moment later Tom was gone.

Tom escapes on the tilt-a-whirl, by Rob Goldstein

The group of men didn’t see what happened. They made a quick search of the ride’s cars and moved on. I heard one of them say something about “a distraction.” They turned away as if they heard something and then moved further into the park.

Movement caused me to look at the gilded fortuneteller booth. Ask Sipsing was written in bright red script across the top. Inside the window I saw a pair of knees.

Rose had prudently hidden inside the gypsy fortuneteller booth, folding herself up as well as she could. As she squeezed out of the booth her purse caught on the latch and was pulled open. I saw that it contained an expensive bottle of Chanel No. 5, complete with a ribbon and gift tag. I would have bet anything the name on that tag was Tom Driberg.

Pearl at the fortuneteller automaton, by Rob Goldstein

Valentino turned to the mechanical fortuneteller and commanded, “Deal the cards. Keep dealing until I tell you to stop.”

I didn’t think automatons worked that way. I started to tell him that you had to ask it a question. However, sure enough, the “gypsy king” automaton started dealing the cards.

Beside the Wheel of Fortune, the automaton dealt the Tower and the Chariot. Valentino nodded sharply.

“Sipsing, you can stop,” he muttered and the automaton stilled. “Our chariot awaits,” he said calmly, as if there wasn’t a giant wheel headed toward us. “We have to get back to the train. This entire area has become unstable.”

The Wheel of Fortune, the Gilded Tarot

The great Ferris wheel continued to careen through the amusement park. As it neared the main gate, we hurried to the train.

Metallic clattering caused us to turn. Dynamite and Boob-boom dragged the gypsy fortuneteller automaton ― still inside his booth ― to the train. Valentino looked aghast.

“Dynamite, what in the Sam Hill are you two doing?” I asked.

“Miss, we could not leave Sipsing behind. He is no ordinary automaton,” Dynamite drawled.

“Yes, Miss. His casing is golden like an angel-bot. Plus, he already had a name!” Boom-boom added as if that cleared up everything.

The train’s door closed behind me. I watched through the small window as the huge wheel crashed through the main gate. The amusement park sign split in half and the pieces sailed toward the train. I ducked reflexively, but it didn’t seem to strike the train.

Lulu and Valentino with chaos in the amusement part outside the train

Valentino’s trumpet played wildly. The uninhibited notes wrapped around my consciousness, seeping into my soul. I shivered as goosebumps appeared on my arms. I looked out the window again and the great wheel was mere feet away. There was no way the train could get out of its way in time.

Notes of a passionate refrain seemed to swirl from the loudspeakers. I felt the ground tremble beneath the train. In the distance some of the structures in the park collapsed. The Ferris wheel came closer. It looked like I could almost touch it if I were to lean out the window.

The trumpet’s notes flared to a crishindo. The train abruptly lurched with such force that the motion knocked me to the floor. All I could see beyond the window was a blur.

***

Lulu, Valentino, and Pearl in the automat, by Rob Goldstein

The train sped along. I didn’t know where we were headed. My wits were scattered after everything that happened in Atlantic City, whichever Atlantic City it might have been. Gramps retired to his sleeper car. I figured my grandfather needed some privacy, so I asked Dynamite to check on him, instead of going myself.

Rose, Pearl, and I headed for the automat. My pals said they weren’t hungry, but I talked them into going with me. The passages in the train seemed different. Pearl said she hadn’t noticed, but Rose agreed. It seemed to make her nervous and she kept looking over her shoulder.

We entered a very long compartment that I had never seen before. The entire length of the extended car was covered in murals done in a strange surreal style. Intricately detailed vignettes were tied together by a dark line that went from one end to the other. Closer inspection showed me the line was a road, with tiny highway signs denoting Route 66.

Gramps and the angel-bots with examples of Valentino’s Pittura Metafisica

“What kind of art do you call this stuff?” I asked. “It looks like some sort of zozzled dream, but I like it. Horsefeathers, it’s so detailed!”

“That’s probably why you like it,” Pearl quipped. “Speaking of which…” she added removing a flask from her garter. “After all the scary stuff, I could use a jorum of skee.”

“Attagirl,” I responded when she passed the flask to me.

“The style is known as Pittura Metafisica,” Valentino answered.

The enigmatic man stood in the shadows. He held a paintbrush and palette. I supposed the mural was his work.

Pearl offered him her flask and commented, “That sounds like Italian.”

“You are correct, Pearl,” he added but stopped short. “Lulu, what are you doing?”

“It looks like I could walk right into the painting, just stroll into that bizarre dream,” I told him, mesmerized. “It just moved! I saw someone run down that street!”

Valentino and angel-bots with painting, by Rob Goldstein

Hand outstretched, I stepped toward the painting. Valentino dropped his art tools and lunged to put his hands around my waist, pulling me back.

“It looks like you could walk into it because sometimes you can walk into the painting. You don’t want to do that. It’s the most insanely dangerous thing anyone could do,” Valentino said heatedly.

His eyes bulged and a vein throbbed in his neck. It was the first time I had seen Valentino rattled.

***

Lulu in the train’s automat, by Rob Goldstein

Later, I swallowed the last bite of a hotdog as I left the automat. My Mary-Jane shoes clicked on the floor as I did a rock-step-triple-step of the Lindy Hop. I saw Valentino up ahead. He didn’t see me because he was messing around with some whatchamacallit that was part of the train.

The big orthophonic Victrola in the train’s control room blared out “Toot, Toot, Tootsie! Good-bye.” An angry look flashed across Valentino’s face. He hurried into the control room and the music abruptly stopped in the middle of another toot.

Naturally I wanted to know what would make him mad like that, so I quietly followed him into the room. I stopped in the shadows just inside the door.

Lulu and Valentino in the train’s control room, by Rob Goldstein

Valentino opened what looked like a large brass compact. It was about the size of a dinner plate.

“You! Haven’t you made enough trouble? What do you want?” he spoke to the big compact.

I moved closer for a better look. A voice came from the brass thing. It was not familiar, but I had the unpleasant feeling that I should know that voice. Valentino shifted his stance and I had a clear view of the thing he held. It was a videophone!

There was an article about videophones in Science and Invention magazine, but I never thought I’d see one in person. Moving silently, I finally got into a position where I could see the person on the videophone. I recognized her. It was the woman from the tilt-a-whirl. It was Lauren, my mother.

“What I want is for you to tell my old man to beat it! You know I’m done with that life. You’ve got a lot of gall, letting him on your train. He’s got nothin’ I want, including the brat. Unless you’ve brought Priscilla back from the dead, I guess the redhead I saw was her. I’m going to blouse. Anybody who knows what’s good for ‘em won’t try to follow me. Understood?” Lauren said from the videophone.

Lauren by Rob Goldstein

My mother didn’t wait for a reply. She broke the connection.

Valentino seemed to sense my presence. He turned to face me.

“Lulu… I’m sorry you heard that. Although, maybe it’s best that you did.”

I shook my head, stunned at the vehemence of Lauren’s words. It made little difference that I was already pretty sure my mother was pure evil. (Chapter 4)

“I’m just glad Gramps didn’t hear it,” I murmured.

***

The End

***

This Wednesday is a challenging workday for me. So I might not be able to attend comments as quickly as I’d like. However, I hope you’ll still leave a comment.

The Melancholy of Departure, Giorgio de Chirico 1916

Real World Notes

Pittura Metafisica: Marked by a strong sense of solitude and melancholy, the uncanny and dreamlike urban spaces and enigmatic iconography were typical of Pittura Metafisica or “Metaphysical Painting.”

Route 66: Opened in 1926. For some fascinating tidbits you might not know, click here.

Videophones: Were first invented all the way back in the late 1800s, but they were refined in the 20s. For more click here.

Chanel No. 5: In 1921, a very clever designer and businesswoman created a scent that revolutionised the way women smell. About a 100 years later, Chanel No. 5 is still the world’s most iconic fragrance.

The Lindy Hop: Here’s how you do the foot-work!

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog. You’ll find more fabulous images there. He’s not just a brilliant artist, he’s also an advocate for several important causes.

Horsefeathers! I’ve got to admire Lulu for her composure and for being well-adjusted. They escaped that rogue Ferris wheel unscathed.

Stay tuned for more spontaneously written fun. The things driving Chapter 9 are Jukebox, Star of David, and Bloshies. What would you do with those things to further this story? Applesauce… Right now I have pos-i-lutely no idea what I’m going to write…And what the Sam Hill is a Bloshie?

Where will that swell diesel-punk train will go next? I’ll see you at the station when Valentino’s train rolls up next week!

Thanks for visiting. You’re the cat’s pajamas!

***

Now some shameless self-promotion for my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, and her friends.

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 7

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Tom, Lulu, and Valentino at the tilt-a-whirl, by Rob Goldstein.

Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays. Today’s episode of Hullaba Lulu brings us to Chapter 7 of the series. I hope you are enjoying my diesel-punk change of pace from the “Pip-verse.”

Once again I have more of the pos-i-lutely fabulous artwork from Rob Goldstein. We’re also having inspiring discussions and he’s sending me “three things” to spontaneously drive each chapter of this pantser story.

Update: Rob just finished another video.

I’m offering a little challenge. Where would you take this story with pocket watch, Ferris wheel, and bubblegum? Read on to see where those three things took my imagination.

If you need to catch up with past chapters, look to the right of the screen. Scroll down to Categories, and click Hullaba Lulu*. That will take you to all the past episodes. Or click over to this post from Rob, which has links to chapters 1 through 5.2 and a video.

Art by Rob Goldstein

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Bright lights flashed. Metal gears shrieked. Green smoke poured from the machinery and the cars. The tilt-a-whirl slowed to a stop. Lauren had vanished.

My eyes were drawn back to the clown sign. His grin was vulpine, downright scary. The gears of the ride groaned to a stop. listening.

Do you hear the Valentino’s trumpet call?

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 7

Pocket Watch, Ferris Wheel, Bubblegum

Gramps inside the train with Lulu in background, by Rob Goldstein

It seemed like the force of a bull elephant ran past me. He barely brushed my shoulder, but it was so strong I stumbled to one knee. My grandfather practically flew to the tilt-a-whirl car where Lauren had been.

Of course, it was empty. Gramps bolted to the ride’s controls. He hesitated briefly. He wouldn’t know what my mother had done to make the tilt-a-whirl behave so violently strange. However, there were only a few levers ― a lucky guess was easily possible.

What if Gramps got on that ride and vanished the way Lauren did? I always knew my mother had abandoned me when I was small. Gramps never tried to sugarcoat the facts. It was just as well with me if Lauren disappeared. But not Gramps. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. The idea of him leaving me like that way… it was even worse.

His eyes held wild determination. It frightened me to see his face transformed to an expression of such desperation. I wanted to throw him to the ground to keep him away from the tilt-a-whirl, but few men would be capable of that. I certainly wasn’t big enough. Gramps wasn’t just the owner of a speakeasy, he was also the bouncer. He was a physically powerful man.

Valentino in the Arcade, by Rob Goldstein

I couldn’t let that stop me. With a gulp of air, I moved toward my grandfather. I heard the clip of the heel taps on those pointy toed patent leather shoes just before Valentino barreled past me. I spun around, but at least I remained standing.

Valentino grabbed Gramps from behind in a bearhug. To me, it seemed like a foolish thing to try. I didn’t know anybody stronger than Gramps. The two men struggled furiously. At one point, Valentino leaned back, lifting Gramps’ feet off the floor. My grandfather wasn’t able to break his hold. I couldn’t believe anyone would be able to restrain Gramps like that.

His gold chain came loose in the struggle and an engraved pocket watch fell from my grandfather’s jacket. The watch slid to a stop near my feet. Gramps opened the watch every day, but he wasn’t checking the time. He opened it to read the inscription. “I’ll love you throughout time. Priscilla.” The watch was a present from my grandmother on their wedding day.

Once I had thought Gramps would make a match with the seamstress on the next block. He chuckled and told me that Priscilla was his one true love and he would never try to replace her with anyone. He lost Lauren too. That was as bad because she wanted to leave, and her indifference to Gramps and me, made it even harder for him.

The men were yelling at each other. Gramps refused to hear what Valentino was saying, so the enigmatic man kept saying it louder.

Lauren and Valentino on the train, by Rob Goldstein

“You can’t reach her! The tilt-a-whirl never goes to the same destination twice!” Valentino repeated. “What if that wasn’t even Lauren?”

He wasn’t speaking to me, but the question left me cold. What if it wasn’t Lauren? I wasn’t sure I would recognize my mother if she walked up to me. I just remembered she liked the tomboy styles and the more polished Garconne look. It didn’t occur to me that the woman I glimpsed could be someone else. Yet, why would someone else run away? I guess I also wondered why Laruen would run, then or when she left us for that matter. I pushed the thought away.

“It looked like her. And that man’s suit. She wore those clothes just to thumb her nose at everybody. It must have been her,” Gramps growled between grunts as he tried to break Valentino’s hold.

“This is no ordinary place. If you get in that machine, you could be lost forever! And the one thing that is certain is that you would not land in the place where she went!” Valentino shouted.

Valentino with trumpet, by Rob Goldstein

Finally, Gramps stopped struggling. He looked into Valentino’s eyes and must have seen honesty. His eyes turned to me and the tension left his body. I heard him murmur my name.

“Lulu, I’m sorry,” Gramps began with a tear at the corner of one eye. “I thought I could bring her back to you.”

His words surprised me. I came to terms with my situation a long time before that day. Apparently, Gramps had not. He hung his head.

“Gramps, after everything I’ve heard about my mother… After the things I read in the ‘return to sender’ letters you mailed to her― Of course I read them!” I blurted out when he tried to interrupt me. “I never wanted Lauren back in our lives! You’re all I need, Gramps.”

He lifted his head. Gramps looked at me like he’d never seen me before. I took his big rough hand in mine. Valentino cleared his throat.

“Not to intrude, but have you seen your friends, Lulu? That journalist who was nosing around the speakeasy seems overly interested in Rose. I saw him a moment ago. I don’t like the cut of his jib,” Valentino said, bringing me back to the present. “We should look for them. Have you any idea where they would go?”

Pearl at Fortuneteller, by Rob Goldstein

I shook my head. My mind was still working with what had just happened. It didn’t have enough thoughts left over to work my mouth.

“There’s a big map of the park right over there. Maybe you’ll see something that would interest Pearl and Rose. Somewhere they may have gone,” he offered.

Valentino took my elbow to point me in the right direction. I must have looked pretty distracted. He kept his other hand firmly around my grandfather’s bicep as if he thought Gramps might bolt back to the tilt-a-whirl.

“That’s one huge map,” I stated. “Okay, lemme see. Pearl and Rose both like the water, so they might look for the bathhouse. But they didn’t bring a figleaf,” I commented, but noted the two confused looking faces. “You know, a one-piece bathing suit.”

“There might be a boutique for that kind of thing. Perhaps they went looking for a shop,” Valentino suggested and he and Gramps turned back to the map.

Men always seemed to want to take over when it came to map reading. My stomach rumbled. I wished I hadn’t exchanged that bag of cheeseburgers for tokens when I entered the park. I saw a vending machine a few feet away and went to investigate, hoping it would have an apple, or even a cup of soda. Unfortunately, it only dispensed stockings, stamps, and bubblegum. With a sigh, I put a token in the machine and got some Wrigley’s Near Miss gum.

Lulu, by Rob Goldstein

With a mouthful of bubblegum, I tried to chew away my appetite. I thought I could probably make a pretty swell bubble. Carefully, steadily expelling air into the chewy pink, I blew the biggest bubble of my life. It was nearly as big as my head!

My eyes darted around, but I didn’t see anyone to share my achievement. Suddenly the bubble popped. Sticky pink bits of various sizes plastered my face. Instantly I switched from wanting someone to see me to hoping no one would get a look at me. I jumped and tried to hide my face when I heard a voice behind me.

“May I help you, Miss?” came a familiar drawl.

“Dynamite!” I exclaimed. “Oh, yes. Can you help me get this gum off my face?”

The angel-bot delicately touched my face with cool metal fingers, picking away the gum. I hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t alone. The other angel-bot waited quietly, eyes downcast.

“There you are, Miss. May I assist you with anything else?”

“I don’t suppose you know where my pals Rose and Pearl are?” I asked but received the expected negative reply. “Who’s your friend?”

“This one works behind the automat,” Dynamite introduced his companion. “Wicky, Wacky, and Woo told him that you had given us names. He begs your indulgence.”

Angel-bots, by Rob Goldstein

“Yes, Giver of Names, would you be so kind?” he asked in a British accent.

I heard clicks and whirrs as the angel-bot bowed. Standing upright he glanced at my eyes but seemed too contrite to hold my gaze.

“Giver of Names?” I asked in astonishment.

A duet of “Yes, Miss” was the reply. I was taken aback. I wouldn’t just dish out a name willy nilly. They took my pause the wrong way.

“We’ve been too forward, Miss. Please accept our apologies,” Dynamite said and both angel-bots took a step backward.

“No, no. I’d be tickled to give your friend a name,” I assured them. “I just want it to be a good one.”

My eyes fell on the bright golden surface of the angel-bot. It reflected like a mirror. I could see Gramps and Valentino coming toward us. The bots noticed them and shifted as if the presence of the men made them nervous. I thought they might leave, but they settled and turned their attention back to me.

“If you’re pals with Dynamite,” I began as inspiration struck. “Then you must be Boom-boom!”

With a soft click the angel-bot blinked his eyes. The two clockwork creatures turned to one another. I was afraid he didn’t like the name. Then he lifted up onto his tiptoes a couple of times, almost like bouncing. Both the angel-bots nodded.

“Boom-boom, yes. Thank you, Miss. I am grateful,” he said.

By then Gramps and Valentino were there. My grandfather didn’t seem to think anything about the odd little scene. The sheik was another matter. He looked astonished.

“I’ve never seen an angel-bot leave the train before. Yet these two disembarked to seek you. And for a name? It’s the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen,” Valentino commented wonderingly.

Rose and Pearl, by Rob Goldstein

I jumped and screamed at a sudden cold shock.

As ice slid down my back I whirled around to find Rose and Pearl, each holding a snow cone. I demanded to know where they’d been.

“I ducked into a house of mirrors and I couldn’t find my way out,” Rose began.

“She was hiding from that nosey Tom. He’s trying too hard to get her back if you ask me. He gives me the creeps. Anyhow, I saw Rose in one of the mirrors and went in to help,” Pearl finished.

“But I heard you scream,” I complained.

“That first distorted reflection scared the bejesus out of me,” Rose defended.

An annoying feeling, which I pushed aside, made me wonder if that was all there was to it.

Pearl, Rose, and Lulu

“Oh look!” Pearl cried. “There’s the gypsy fortuneteller. Rose, you have to get Sipsing to read your cards.”

We were near the brightly painted Ask Sipsing booth again. The automaton inside wasn’t as “human” as the angel-bots. Its voice had no infliction as it mechanically called out to us.

“Sipsing the gypsy king knows all, sees all. What would you divine?” it asked as it spread tarot cards on the small table inside its booth.

“What’s in my friend’s future? Sipsing, will Rose find true love?” Pearl asked the machine when Rose wouldn’t ask it a question.

I rolled my eyes. All Pearl could think about was romance.

The gypsy automaton turned over the Wheel of Fortune card. Behind me Valentino drew a sharp breath.

The two angel-bots turned back toward the rides, watching intently. Valentino went pale. He whirled around seeming to look everywhere at once. The ground trembled. I heard a loud bang! Behind us the giant Ferris wheel lurched. The A-frame structures holding the wheel collapsed.

The great wheel rolled inexorably toward us.

The Wheel of Fortune, the Gilded Tarot

***

The End

***

Real World Notes

Double Mint Gum ad 1930

Bubblegum: In 1928, an accountant invented bubblegum. Walter Diemer, was experimenting with new gum recipes. One recipe was less sticky than regular chewing gum, and stretched more easily. The original bubble gum was pink in color because that was the dye that Diemer had most on hand at the time.

Ferris Wheel: The original, sometimes also referred to as the Chicago Wheel, was designed and constructed by George Washington Gale Ferris Jr.. With a height of 80.4 metres (264 ft) it was the tallest attraction at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Illinois, where it opened to the public on June 21, 1893.

Sipsing: I named the gypsy fortuneteller automaton for a real life gypsy king in England. Spising is reputed to have ruled 11 years before being hanged for a murder in Wombourn, Staffordshire, having escaped the same fate earlier by seeking sanctuary in Westminster Abbey. (Wikipedia)

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog. You’ll find more fabulous images and videos there. He also has a Youtube channel (click here.)

Stay tuned for more spontaneously written fun. The things driving Chapter 8 are Chanel No. 5, Pittura Metafisica, Videophone, and Route 66! That’s right — four things. I’ll have an extra challenge with a fourth thing. Be sure to come back next week to see where those take our diesel-punk train.

Thanks for visiting. You’re the oyster’s earrings!

PS: I can’t forget my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, and her friends.

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 6

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

A bath on Valentino’s train, by Rob Goldstein

Hey, Sheiks and Shebas. Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays. The weekly three things and images, from my “partner in crime” Rob Goldstein, spontaneously guide what I’m writing. Last week he did an image of an Art Deco angel as part of my mystical diesel-punk train’s controls. That caused me to see more of the train. I can tell you, Valentino has one luxurious way to travel!

I guess this is a spoiler, but it has nothing to do with the plot… I had already given the train a control room with mystical gizmos for navigation and communications, and then an automat. Now I have deluxe sleeper cars — with attendants. Between Rob and me, Lulu freaked out when she suddenly realized the bath had attendants…

Lulu and the Sleeper Car Attendants, by Rob Goldstein

Rob did another video for us (below). I’m happy to be able to feature more of the artwork of Rob Goldstein.

Here’s another fabulous video from Rob. Click for the full post.

Today we have Chapter 6 of the Roaring Twenties fantasy series, Hullaba Lulu. The “dieselpunk*” train has reached Atlantic City.

Previously with Hullaba Lulu, Chapter 5

From Chapter 5

In the distance ahead, I could make out bits of the boardwalk. I saw the great Ferris wheel and the tallest hills of the old Loop the Loop.

“Hold on a minute!” I exclaimed. “Atlantic City took down the Loop the Loop in 1912. I’ve only seen it in photographs.”

In the midst of the strange flashing lights, the tilt-a-whirl spun wildly.

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 6

The Garconne Look, Tarot Cards, Kodak Brownie

Lulu in the train’s automat… with cheeseburgers

The loudspeaker had a calm voice as it spoke, “Nearing destination. Prepare to disembark.”

It was the slightest shift, but I felt the train begin to decelerate. Suddenly excited, I wanted to remember this adventure forever. Plus, that Loop the Loop — I needed a picture of that so people would believe it was there.

I ran down the corridor toward Gramps’ sleeper car, hoping he brought his Kodak Brownie with him. When I came to the spiral staircase that went up to the control room, I paused to look up the stairs. Everything seemed quiet and dark. I figured everyone was getting ready to leave the train.

A moment later I was at my grandfather’s room, but he wasn’t there. I saw his open suitcase on the bed and moved to see if the camera was there. Gramps might not think to take it with him.

A soft click caused me to turn. My eyes bulged at what I beheld.

Angel-bot by Rob Goldstein

“May I help you, Miss?”

“You’re an automaton!” I exclaimed after a stunned moment. “A golden angel like the sculpture in the control room… but you’re an automaton.”

With halting movements he bowed. His eyes blinked with another quiet click.

“I’m the sleeper car attendant. May I help you, Miss? Your companions have gone to the amusement park. You will need these,” he said with a slight southern drawl.

He handed me a brown paper sack. The aroma of the contents reached my nose before I opened the bag. It contained several cheeseburgers.

“Oh, thank you, but I just ate,” I told him.

“Yes, I see,” he said and touched the side of my mouth with a white linen napkin embroidered with the letter V. “There was a bit of mustard. The cheeseburgers are currency. You will need them. You’d best hurry. Your companions have already disembarked.”

I followed the golden angel-looking automaton into the corridor. We had to step aside when three more of the clockwork creatures needed to pass. I noticed they held various cleaning implements. I stopped them, and asked a bunch of questions.

Art by Rob Goldstein

Angel-bots! I thought in amazement.

“Hang on just a minute. How many of you clockwork people are on this train? And no offence, but you all look just alike. How do I know one of you from another? Do you have names?”

“There are sufficient numbers of us to assist in keeping the train in good working order and take care of all the passenger needs as well,” the sleeper car valet told me as the other three made soft clicking noises. “We haven’t had a need for names, so we have none.”

When I stood speechless, another of them inquired in a voice touched by the Bronx, “May we assist you, Miss?”

I found it unaccountably disturbing that they all looked so much alike. It reminded me of the time I met triplets when I was very young. I wanted to give them all rhyming names like the triplets, but I wasn’t any kind of poet.

The first one, with the southern accent seemed to understand that something bothered me.

“We all look very much alike, except for the red-gold attendant,” he said.

The three housekeepers made mechanical chuckling noises. He turned his placid face toward them. I had the feeling that he would have blushed if he could. I felt a little sorry for him.

Bots, by Rob Goldstein

“She’s a hotsy-totsy!” he confessed with a shuffle of his feet. “I tried to learn flapper language when I heard the train was going to Atlantic City,” he added, sounding entirely practical.

“Red-gold?” I asked. “She must be Ginger then, and Hot Ginger because I think she’s your blue serge! So, my friend, that would make you Dynamite.”

Suddenly inspired by the Nagasaki song I turned to the other three and stated, “That makes you three Wiki, Wacky, and Woo, like the song.”

“The song, Miss?” Dynamite asked.

“Hot Ginger and Dynamite! Somethin’ something’ and wicky wacky, woo!” I belted out a bar of the tune, or the part I could remember anyway.

For a moment there was silence. Then I was surrounded by clicking noises. They started chattering to each other. I thought they were excited to have names. I know ― everyone thinks clockwork creatures don’t have emotions, but I was there. I was sure they liked having names.

***

Lulu by Rob Goldstein

A familiar excited giggle drew me to a brightly painted booth. Pearl had found a fortuneteller automaton. It was much less sophisticated than the angel-bots on the train. Its voice had no infliction as it prompted us.

“The gypsy knows all, sees all. What would you divine?” it asked repeatedly as it spread tarot cards on the small table inside its booth.

“Go ahead, Lulu! Ask it a question. It gave me ‘the lovers’ card,” Pearl told me.

“You always ask about love, and they always tell you that you’ll find it. I never know what to ask,” I complained. “Oh, okay. How is the Loop the Loop still here when it was taken down in 1912? Did we go back in time?” I added in a softer voice.

The automaton stopped and looked right at me. Something about the sudden change in clockwork movement gave me the heebie-jeebies. The gypsy gathered the tarot cards and spread them again. It drew out a card with a drawing of a man hanging by his foot. The fortuneteller moved the card so that the man was laying down.

“Sideways,” was all the automaton said.

“We didn’t move east or west, or forward or backward…” I began.

“Sideways,” it repeated.

Rose and Tom dance, by Rob Goldstein

I gave a frustrated sigh. Why couldn’t the blasted thing be useful? I turned to Pearl and asked her where Rose was. My fair-haired friend shrugged, then she giggled and asked the fortuneteller.

“Where is our friend, Rose?”

The gypsy automaton gathered the tarot cards, spread them, and turned over the Three of Swords. The design on the card was like the leaflet I found in the automat. There was an image of a heart pierced by three swords. I shuddered.

“Betrayal,” the fortuneteller said.

The air was split by a loud scream. The sound echoed around the amusement park.

“Rose?” I exclaimed.

I turned around, looking everywhere. At first, I saw no one. Then I saw a shadow that somehow made me think of the Ford with a bunch of G-men – or that’s what they looked like. That was the night we met Tom Driberg. I muttered his name.

Abruptly I realized that Pearl was gone. She must have gone to look for Rose. I took a breath to call for Pearl, when I the sound of feet pounding the pavement made me turn.

Lulu and Tom, by Rob Goldstein

“Speak of the devil,” I snorted. “I should have known you were here when I glimpsed those G-men just now,” I told Tom Driberg. “But how did you manage to get here”

“I heard Rose scream. Where is she?” he asked.

He sounded suspiciously calm and I commented on the fact.

“Tomato, didn’t anybody notice the handcar that hooked onto the end of the train? I thought my stowaway jig was up when one of those clockwork angel things found me. Anyhow, those weren’t G-men,” he told me in a voice tinged with contempt. “Those are Russian agents. They must have gotten to Margosha before I could. I mean your friend Rose. Margosha is her first name. Rose is her middle name. Didn’t you know? Her monogram, MRM didn’t tell you anything?” he added with a condescending chuckle that grated my patience.

I looked around wildly for my friends. Half panicked, I didn’t know what to do.

Rose, by Rob Goldstein

“Calm down. They won’t hurt her. They mean to use her to get to me. You see, I quit them and they think dragging Margosha back into the spy business will force me to join them again.”

“What do you mean dragging her back?” I demanded.

The noise of screeching metal caused me to look away. It sounded like something huge moving in a way that it had no business moving. When I turned back to Tom, he was gone. Twisting around in a circle I searched for any familiar face. The scream could have come from any direction. Tom could have run anywhere, so could Pearl.

Not knowing what to do, or where to do it, I started walking forward, farther into the park. In the distance I saw a woman wearing the menswear inspired Garconne look. Her face reminded me of one that I mostly knew from pictures.

I brought up the Kodack and aimed. Abruptly she turned toward me. I took the photo.

Lauren?

Lauren by Rob Goldstein

The woman who looked like my mother ran. I followed.

Panting, I paused, hands on knees as I tried to catch my breath. A brightly painted clown face marked the entrance to the tilt-a-whirl. The clown had curved line for an innocent smile, and his eyes were little plus marks. I looked beyond the sign to the ride.

I spotted her.

With a glance over her shoulder, Lauren did something, moving the levers on the ride’s controls. She climbed onto one of the tilt-a-whirl cars. It spun and turned, faster and faster. Soon it looked like a blur.

Bright lights flashed. Metal gears shrieked. Green smoke poured from the machinery and the cars. The tilt-a-whirl slowed to a stop. No one was aboard the ride. I ran to the car where Lauren had been. It was as empty as all the others.

My eyes were drawn back to the clown sign. The face had changed. His eyes openly leered and his grin grin was vulpine, downright scary. The gears of the ride groaned to a stop.

***

The End

***

Well, I’m not sure what to say about that… Except maybe that I will think twice before I get on a tilt-a-whirl again. And where the Sam Hill did everybody go?

Next time, Chapter 7 — Pocket Watch, Pittura Metafisica, Bubblegum.

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog. You’ll find more fabulous images and videos there.

Thanks for visiting. You’re the oyster’s earrings!

PS: Remember my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, and her friends.

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 5.2

Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Hold the presses! Update!

I had to include this masterpiece from Rob (above). His best video yet. It’s magical. And it’s the cat’s meow!

The control room of Valentino’s train, by Rob Goldstein

Sheiks and Shebas, welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays. This episode concludes Chapter 5 of the new series, Hullaba Lulu. I seem to have a lot to say about Valentino’s train in this “diesel-punk” fantasy.

Some of you will remember that early in my novella, The Three Things Serial Story, I imagined the voice of Lucille Ball narrating those tales. I wanted Hullaba Lulu to have a much different “voice” or tone. However, no narrator sprang to mind. I imagine Lulu being genuine, slightly crass, and lovably snarky, sort of like a female version of Seth Meyers. (See Late Night with Seth Meyers.) I toyed with the idea of narrating a snippet but… I got shy. Oh, what the hell. Why not…

Valentino in the abandoned subway, by Rob Goldstein

Happily we have more beautiful artwork from Rob Goldstein to punctuate this chapter. I’m finally writing about the “three things” Rob sent for it. The characters are now on that amazing train.

A word of warning — this episode is a little longer than usual (1,790 words or so). Here’s the rest of what started last week.

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Last time Lulu overheard a strange conversation between her grand father and Valentino. It sounded like they’d known each other since before she was born — but Valentino was too young for that. Lulu kept the puzzling exchange to herself.

Mysterious gifts were sent to Rose, probably from that shady journalist, Tom Driberg. It prompted Valentino to say Rose wasn’t safe. Valentino offered to take the girls away. To Lulu’s astonishment, her Gramps demanded to go along.

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 5.2

Automat, Cheeseburger, Tilt-a-Whirl

Lulu, Valentino, and Pearl — by Rob Goldstein

Valentino strolled down the railroad tracks. He started playing that trumpet of his as he walked. There was something about the music… I couldn’t explain it, but the notes were more than just a tune. My skin prickled with goosebumps. I gave an involuntary shudder. My grandfather glanced down at me.

The tension between Gramps and Valentino was out of character for him. Gramps was usually easy going. He never put any restrictions on me about revealing frocks or bobbed hair. He said discipline should be saved for more important things. So, his comment surprised me.

“Lulu, are you sure that dress is what you want to wear to travel?” my grandfather asked, but he turned away to answer a remark from Rose before I could say anything.

Pearl had changed into a printed dress of soft cream and gold with a wide sash at the dropped waist. With her light blond hair, it made a classy monotone combination. Rose wore a Chanel suit that I expected was one of the gifts from Tom Driberg. I still didn’t understand what was going on with that situation, but I figured I’d find out eventually.

Pearl by Rob Goldstein

Anyway, when I looked down at my own clothes, I realized Gramps had a point. However, it was too late for me to change.

The last notes of the melody Valentino played on his trumpet echoed in the tunnels of the abandoned section of the subway. I heard a sound like an engine, but it didn’t sound like an ordinary train. Then came the chugging of the wheels turning. That sounded more like a train. In a moment the sleek machine stood at the old station.

The train looked like something from the cover of “Science and Invention,” all sleek and polished. When we boarded, I saw that the inside was even more fantastical than the outside. The engine’s controls were unlike anything I had ever seen, even in scientifiction* stories.

I saw my Ouija board on the console and my temper flared.

Bushwa! It was still mine, no matter what anybody said. It had been mine for as long as I could remember. I was feeling possessive and put upon. I didn’t appreciate Gramps telling me that it belonged to Valentino, any more than I liked the sheik taking over it.

Lulu by Rob Goldstein

Sputtering and pouting, I watched in silence as the enigmatic man hooked the wooden board to the control panel of his train.

“Stop growling, would you please, Lulu,” Valentino muttered. “If we’re to go anywhere I need to use the Ouija board.”

Okay, so I wasn’t completely silent, but it was only a little growl.

Valentino picked up my Ouija board and carried it to what at first appeared to be an Art Deco angel sculpture, but then I saw that it was part of the controls for the train. He attached the Ouija board to the statue.

Something he touched sparked and popped. Valentino jumped back with a muffled exclamation, shaking his hand as if he’d been stung. I admit it was gratifying, but I swear I didn’t smirk. Well, maybe a little. Okay, I looked like a cat with a bowl of cream, but I put a neutral expression on my face before he turned around.

Valentino at the controls of the train

When I looked at the angel statue again, for a moment I could have sworn it winked at me! I shook my head and blinked my eyes. I couldn’t be zozzled. I hadn’t had a drop of giggle water all day. I moved to the angel, inspecting it closely. Nothing moved, and it was cold to the touch, and still as a statue should be, not warm, living, and able to wink.

I hopped up onto the console of his Orthophonic Victrola and crossed my legs. I leaned my head against its horn. He made a face and cleared his throat as a hint. When I wouldn’t take the hint, he motioned for me to move my gams out of the way.

“Be careful of the pavilion,” he cautioned. “You might move the settings. You wouldn’t want us to head down the garden path, would you?”

“The pavilion? Oh, the horn? So grumpy. Do those pointy toed dog kennels hurt your feet or something?” I said just to poke him.

Valentino held a glass tube capped with metal on each end. He was already a hotsy-totsy and being so intense with the scientific stuff ― that was so sexy!

Valentino uses the trumpet to bring all the train’s controls in tune

I reminded myself that I didn’t want to feel that way and focused on the strange tube. It was filled with glowing green liquid. Valentino ignored me as he bent to touch the console, where a smooth brass plate bore an engraving of music symbols. He pressed the plate and it opened to reveal the shining trumpet he played earlier.

Then he leaned over me to reach the Victrola. When he removed the record I saw another of the glowing liquid filled tubes. Valentino placed the tube he carried next to the one in the Victrola. Then he put the trumpet to his lips and played a series of notes. Harmonic sounds emanated from the tubes.

“Everything is in tune now,” he commented in a pleased tone.

He fiddled with knobs and switches, contentedly humming a tune I didn’t recognize. The man was completely absorbed in his work. I grew bored and left Valentino to his inventions.

Pearl and Rose surprised me when they seemed to be happy that my grandfather was coming with us. They made quite a fuss over him. The three of them went to the dining car. I probably should have gone with them, especially since I was feeling peckish. Instead, I went off on my own to explore the strange train. I was used to having plenty of alone time. I wasn’t sure how much I would like being confined on a train with five other people, all the way to Atlantic City.

Clara Bo (inset) Paramount Automat 1931

My heels clicked on a mosaic tile floor when I entered the next car. The room was wall-to-wall chrome and glass.

“Holy Hannah! An automat!” I exclaimed, but nobody was there to share my glee.

It had everything from a hot cup of noodle juice to porterhouse steaks to jiggly gelatin in ritzy molds. My stomach rumbled and my mouth watered. I opened a little glass door and removed a plate of exotic Hawaiian pineapple upside-down cake. I’d never tasted pineapple. (Recipe and history here*.)

I felt a soft bump as the train traveled. It wasn’t even enough to make me stumble. It could have been from anything. Then one of the compartment doors of the automat opened. A newspaper fell out. I bent to pick it up. On the front page was an article by Tom Driberg about the society swells called the Bright Young Things. Interestingly, the next story was not by Driberg, but about him. There was no byline, but the writer insinuated that Tom was a spy working for the Russian government.

Bushwa! Does Rose really have a history with that guy?

She hadn’t admitted it, but I had become sure that Rose recognized him that night outside the speakeasy when Driberg was looking for someone named Margosha. Plus, I had feeling that they were more than ships that pass in the night.

Tom and Rose, by Rob Goldstein

A leaflet fell out of the cubby where the newspaper had been. It was an advertisement for a fortune reader on the boardwalk. There was an image of a heart pierced by three swords. The image was powerful. It made me think of betrayal.

I gazed out the window as I thought. There was nothing to see, the train was inside a tunnel. There were large metal plates in the walls in the part we had been running through the last few minutes. I could see a distorted reflection of the train in the metal.

For a second I thought I saw men hunched over a handcar that was right behind the train.

No, that would be impossible! There’s way a hand car could keep up with the train.

The reflection was blurred and wavy. I blinked hard and looked again. However, the train had quickly left that part of the tunnel. The shiny metal plates were replaced by brick walls.

Licking my fingers for the last sticky cake crumb, I was even hungrier than before. A rattling sound caused me to turn to the other side of the automat. Against that wall stood a long table. A hatch door in the wall lifted, showing a conveyor belt. It started cranking out plates holding cheeseburgers.

Lulu in the train’s automat… with cheeseburgers, by Rob Goldstein

Warm cheddar oozed from the steaming buns. As the aroma drifted to my nose, my belly growled anew. I had eaten three of the burgers before I realized I had even finished one.

Suddenly lights began to flash. Electric loudspeakers that were installed in every car of the train began blaring part of the song Don’t Bring Lulu! Rose and Pearl had harnessed me with my nickname, Hullaba Lulu, because of that blasted song.

The sound of running feet preceded the appearance of pointy toed patent leather shoes. Valentino skidded into the automat. He looked from me to the empty plates in astonishment.

The loudspeaker shouted, “Don’t bring cash honey. You pay in cheeseburgers!”

“Lulu…” he began but seemed at a loss for words. “We needed those cheeseburgers for Atlantic City.”

“There’s plenty to eat there,” I mumbled around the last bite of burger.

“Cheeseburgers are as good as money where we’re going. It’s not the Atlantic City that you know,” he told me.

1928 Sunnyside Amusement Park

“Huh?” I replied as I swallowed.

I burped, but I had the decency to blush.

“Excuse me…”

Sunlight flooded the car. The train had left the tunnel. I moved to the window expecting to see pasture land. We couldn’t be there yet.

I was wrong. In the distance ahead, I could make out bits of the boardwalk. I saw the great Ferris wheel and the tallest hills of the old Loop the Loop*.

“Hold on a minute!” I exclaimed. “Atlantic City took down the Loop the Loop in 1912. I’ve only seen it in photographs.”

I twisted around to Valentino, but he was gone. When I turned back to the window, the train was much closer to the boardwalk. I could see the bathhouse, the Love’s Nest and the Shimmy Auto.

(For more about the attractions of Atlantic City in the Roaring Twenties, click here*.)

Goosebumps rose on my arms. A disturbing sensation went through me and I shuddered, just like I did a moment before the train arrived at the station. Flashing lights drew my eyes farther into the amusement park.

In the midst of the strange lights, the tilt-a-whirl spun wildly.

Portal by Rob Goldstein

***

The end.

So, what’s the deal with that tilt-a-whirl? And what did Valentino mean by It’s not the Atlantic City that you know? Not to mention the reflection Lulu saw in the tunnel — had there really been a handcar behind the train?

Don’t forget to visit Rob’s blog. You’ll find more fabulous images there, and insightful posts too.

Real World Notes

Science and Invention was the name during the 1920s and 1930s of a popular technology magazine founded by Hugo Gernsback and edited by him until 1929. The magazine also ran science fiction stories.

Scientifiction: In 1929 the term science fiction was used (first attested in advertisements for “Air Wonder Stories” magazine), though there is an isolated use from 1851; abbreviated form sci-fi is from 1955. Earlier in same sense scientifiction (1916) was used.

Loop the Loop: The rollercoaster opened in 1901 and operated until 1912. It was one of the earliest looping roller coasters in the United States.

Thanks for visiting. You’re the kitten’s ankles!

Now for that obligatory shameless self-promotion, here are my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka Pip, and her friends.

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.