Monday, 7/6

I wonder if the story's gonna outlive both me and the person who told it to me?

First of all, hope you had a great weekend. I did a lot of things. Aside from biking to Negaunee with Loraine and eating a lot and wondering just how stupid the 1,000+ people on the beach at McCarty's Cove on Saturday were, I also walked up & down Third Street with my mother trying to gather info on my big upcoming video about the history of the place.   The story I'm referring to came up when we stopped to speak with someone. And then I spoke with someone else this weekend on another part of Marquette history, that person said she's been telling my fruit bowl story to friends and relatives, getting the same kind of reaction I get when I tell it, which is basically a big laugh.

Cool. It's kind of like going viral, but in the old fashioned way!

If you've never heard the story, it's about (naturally) prostitutes in Marquette; namely, the working women who used to ply their trade at the old Adams Hotel in Marquette (now the building that used to house the Upfront). As the tale goes, you would know they were open for business when there was a bowl of fruit in the window. This apparently went on from the 1910s to the 1940s.

By the way, speaking of my mother? She's the one who originally told me the story.

Interesting & cute historical story, right? But so interesting that people tell the story to other people they know? Not in and of itself. I have a feeling the story gets told thanks to the kicker to it, which goes like this—fifteen or sixteen years ago I was giving a downtown tour to a bunch of elderly NMU alumni, describing what used to happened at the old Adams Hotel. As I was telling the story, an elderly gentleman looked at me, looked at the building, and looked back at me again with a mix of confusion and curiosity in his eyes. After a few seconds, he held up his hand and said this--

“You know, when I was a young boy I used to work at the Adams, and one of my jobs was to put fruit in the window. Until today, I never knew why”.

THAT'S why the story gets repeated over and over, I guess. And it's because of that elderly gentleman that the story may outlast even me and the person who told it to me.

Thanks, Mom!!!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)