Mayhem, Myths and Mysteries

More About Philadelphia

Mayhem on the Dining Room Table. Quothe the Raven, “Nevermore.”

We’re no longer huge souvenir shoppers when we travel, although we did bring Riley an Edgar Allen Poe Raven finger puppet from Philadelphia, which he was slightly interested in for about three seconds. He’s more interested in creating havoc and mayhem.

Betsy Ross’s bedroom. She had to sew her flags in secret because she was committing treason.

The Betsy Roth Mythology

The Fourth of July seems like a good time to spotlight Philadelphia’s own Betsy Ross who is credited with sewing the first United States flag even though there’s no empirical evidence this is true. According to Betsy’s oral family history, George Washington visited her upholstery shop in 1776 and showed her a sketch of a flag with thirteen red and white stripes and thirteen six-pointed stars. Ever practical, Ross suggested making the stars five-pointed instead because they were much easier to cut.

In the 18th century, flags were not revered as they are today, more military tool than symbol of liberty or patriotism. I’ve always been a fan of this version of the American flag until it got co-opted by Second Amendment vigilantes a few years ago. These days they’re flying much more aggressive banners so we’re back to flying this flag at our house on the Fourth.

When we visited the Betsy Ross House in Philadelphia last month, we learned that Betsy’s life wasn’t that easy. She was the eighth of seventeen children, estranged from her family when she married outside of the Quaker faith, a widow three times. Two of her seven children died as infants. There’s no surviving image of Ross—the portraits we see are just part of the American narrative.

Betsy Ross may or may not have made the very first flag, but she stitched flags for the federal government for more than 50 years and went blind doing so. She and her third husband are buried in the shaded courtyard outside her house, listening to the tourists perpetuate her mythology.

The Edgar Allan Poe Mystery

I’ve always been a fan of Edgar Allan Poe. My go-to Halloween costume is the Poe Raven, complete with black feathered wings. I mostly write literary fiction, but I’ve attempted a few horror stories. “Drum Lessons” was published in “The Second Corona Book of Horror Stories” and I was thrilled when my dear friend Alice told me she’d read it out loud to her family, around the campfire. A version of this story inspired a chapter in my second novel, “Those People Behind Us.”

So, last month in Philadelphia, despite the 100-degree weather, I talked my husband into walking a few blocks (okay a mile) over to the Edgar Allan Poe Historical Site.

It was worth the steamy walk. The Poe site is eerily bare and left in a compelling state of arrested decay. There is wonderful tromp de oeil work on the walls and there’s a musty dark basement that inspired the story “The Black Cat.” There’s no remaining furniture but Poe and his wife and his mother-in-law didn’t have many household goods anyway. Although they were poor, this was one of the happiest times of Poe’s life.

Poe was only 40 when he died in 1849 and the cause of his death remains a mystery. He was found delirious, wearing someone else’s clothes in Baltimore, where he died a few days later. There are many theories as to what killed him—foul play, alcoholism, poisoning, tuberculosis, rabies—but at the Poe Historical Site, the young park ranger’s favorite theory for Poe’s death was Voter Fraud—specifically “cooping.”

(BTW, the National Park Rangers in Philadelphia are personable, professional, passionate about history and wonderful story tellers. Plus, they wear very cool uniforms.)

So, what kind of voter fraud is “cooping?” In those days, there was a practice of drugging or highly intoxicating people in public houses or bars, kidnapping them, throwing them in with a bunch of other people in a chicken-coop sized room (hence the name), changing their clothes and then taking them from one polling location to another to place fraudulent votes.

I guess this is why some states still close the bars on election days.

My city council is hyper-concerned about voter fraud to the extent that they recently changed the city charter to require voter identification in municipal elections. Maybe they should close the bars and the chicken coops too.

I bet Edgar is thrilled that no one knows the truth about how he died. We’re still talking about him more than two hundred years later. You can’t buy that kind of publicity.

Speaking of shameless self-promotion—there were some shiny stickers, ribbons, and giant medals waiting for me in the mail when we returned from Philadelphia. Much gratitude to the Independent Book Publishing Association and the Next Generation Indie Awards for the recognition.

If you need something to read this summer, my first novel “The Lockhart Women,” is part of a 50-novel giveaway, which includes a free eReader. Enter here to win.

My second novel "Those People Behind Us" has been out in the world for eight months now. To celebrate, The StoryGraph is offering a chance to win one of 8 signed copies. To enter, click here.

Good Luck!!