Synopsis - They Were Dead When I Met Them
Overshadowed by the recent downtown revitalization, a bookstore stands at the corner
of Throckmorton and Eighth in Fort Worth. Built in 1906, at the northwest corner of a
strip of land called Hell’s Half Acre, it witnessed the final glory days of the Acre and
the West. Its upper floor a cheap hotel housed prostitutes, drummers, and other
emotionally destitute products of a small western town.
The bookstore itself moved here from another location in 1947. Until 1997 it was the
oldest bookstore in the state of Texas. Brian Perkins, the bookstore owner has since
sold out to Larry McMurtry, an account of which can be found in the book Benjamin
Franklin At the Dairy Queen. The building stands on a site previously containing a
rooming house run by one Miss Sadie Headly.
The background facts are easily verified by the Fort Worth Chamber of Commerce.
What cannot be verified are the residents who continue to walk the upper floors of the
old boarding-house. The Grim Reaper, himself has been unable to convince them to
relocate. Until now that is. Seen only by myself (POV), Mr. Perkins, and assorted
others, they want their stories told.
Since the seventies I had been able to see the woman starring out the second floor
window. But I had ignored her, and the other ghosts who made themselves visible to
me. One can get put away for that kind of thing. After having sold a couple of ghost
stories to a California magazine I decided to write about the bookstore in a fictional
format. To get a feel for story and a little background info, I went shopping.
For the first time in twenty years the woman turned from the window and spoke to
me. Her name is Charlotte, and she has waited over one hundred years for a lover. The
rest of the corporeally challenged wanted to share their stories also. (Supporting POV)
From that day forward my life was no longer my own. The changes and growth in my
own life are chronicled in between the stories taken down with loving care. Extensive
historical research woven into and between each story lends atmosphere and credence.
The reader is never sure when he steps over that thin line into fiction. Starting with
Hedy in the 1910's, the stories cover eight decades of history.
All that is visible of Hedy, from the door of number seventeen, are her skirts swaying
gently in the breeze. The rest of her is hidden, by the top of the doorframe, obscuring
the view of her hanging from the overhead pipes. Her story of incest, murder, and a
lost child, reach into the powerful political realms of Austin.
Pretty Betty dances while she tells of her abandonment by her parents. I am pulled
back into the past to partner one last saloon dance with Garrett. A traveling salesman
for a prominent packinghouse, Garrett tries to maintain two women, one back east and
one in Fort Worth. He nearly makes it except for a hell fire preacher that runs his
western love out of town while he is gone.
A complete picture of the working day for the “Working Girl” is given happily by Lily.
The true spirit of the pioneer is well represented in this woman who saved her earnings
trying to escape the life which fate dumped on her. A self-appointed messenger of
God lives in sixteen. Corrupted by an over zealous mother, “The Pusher in The Rye”
wants to help the brides of the multitude meet their judgments sooner than later. Along
with a stunning account of the Spring Palace fire, Gert gives a good representation of a
kept woman in the late eighteen hundreds.
Sal, tough as nails and facially challenged describes in detail the running of a house. For
over sixty years Sal did business in a social atmosphere that considered women to
stupid to do business, and prostitutes as less than livestock. Not only does she “tell it
like it is”, but she gives darn good advice on dealing with men and life. These are just a
few of the many spirits that surface to share their stories.
Last but not least Charlotte renders her story. She buried her family from pox, killed
her child to stop her suffering and waits one hundred years for a lover that lay rotting
in Comanche County. Her mind gone she thinks that he will return even to this day.
Read Chapter 1
Overshadowed by the recent downtown revitalization, a bookstore stands at the corner
of Throckmorton and Eighth in Fort Worth. Built in 1906, at the northwest corner of a
strip of land called Hell’s Half Acre, it witnessed the final glory days of the Acre and
the West. Its upper floor a cheap hotel housed prostitutes, drummers, and other
emotionally destitute products of a small western town.
The bookstore itself moved here from another location in 1947. Until 1997 it was the
oldest bookstore in the state of Texas. Brian Perkins, the bookstore owner has since
sold out to Larry McMurtry, an account of which can be found in the book Benjamin
Franklin At the Dairy Queen. The building stands on a site previously containing a
rooming house run by one Miss Sadie Headly.
The background facts are easily verified by the Fort Worth Chamber of Commerce.
What cannot be verified are the residents who continue to walk the upper floors of the
old boarding-house. The Grim Reaper, himself has been unable to convince them to
relocate. Until now that is. Seen only by myself (POV), Mr. Perkins, and assorted
others, they want their stories told.
Since the seventies I had been able to see the woman starring out the second floor
window. But I had ignored her, and the other ghosts who made themselves visible to
me. One can get put away for that kind of thing. After having sold a couple of ghost
stories to a California magazine I decided to write about the bookstore in a fictional
format. To get a feel for story and a little background info, I went shopping.
For the first time in twenty years the woman turned from the window and spoke to
me. Her name is Charlotte, and she has waited over one hundred years for a lover. The
rest of the corporeally challenged wanted to share their stories also. (Supporting POV)
From that day forward my life was no longer my own. The changes and growth in my
own life are chronicled in between the stories taken down with loving care. Extensive
historical research woven into and between each story lends atmosphere and credence.
The reader is never sure when he steps over that thin line into fiction. Starting with
Hedy in the 1910's, the stories cover eight decades of history.
All that is visible of Hedy, from the door of number seventeen, are her skirts swaying
gently in the breeze. The rest of her is hidden, by the top of the doorframe, obscuring
the view of her hanging from the overhead pipes. Her story of incest, murder, and a
lost child, reach into the powerful political realms of Austin.
Pretty Betty dances while she tells of her abandonment by her parents. I am pulled
back into the past to partner one last saloon dance with Garrett. A traveling salesman
for a prominent packinghouse, Garrett tries to maintain two women, one back east and
one in Fort Worth. He nearly makes it except for a hell fire preacher that runs his
western love out of town while he is gone.
A complete picture of the working day for the “Working Girl” is given happily by Lily.
The true spirit of the pioneer is well represented in this woman who saved her earnings
trying to escape the life which fate dumped on her. A self-appointed messenger of
God lives in sixteen. Corrupted by an over zealous mother, “The Pusher in The Rye”
wants to help the brides of the multitude meet their judgments sooner than later. Along
with a stunning account of the Spring Palace fire, Gert gives a good representation of a
kept woman in the late eighteen hundreds.
Sal, tough as nails and facially challenged describes in detail the running of a house. For
over sixty years Sal did business in a social atmosphere that considered women to
stupid to do business, and prostitutes as less than livestock. Not only does she “tell it
like it is”, but she gives darn good advice on dealing with men and life. These are just a
few of the many spirits that surface to share their stories.
Last but not least Charlotte renders her story. She buried her family from pox, killed
her child to stop her suffering and waits one hundred years for a lover that lay rotting
in Comanche County. Her mind gone she thinks that he will return even to this day.
Read Chapter 1
Michelle Hartman - Fiction
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