A FAIRYTALE WITH A FIERY ENDING

The Eagles' Nest, The Women of the Rathskeller Inn

Photo by Federico Beccari on Unsplash

CHAPTER 11

(This chapter contains information previously unknown to those who were customers and good friends of the family. It is not a confession but simply a statement of facts that reveal the struggle we all face as humans. Grandma Ann, my mother Jackie, and my aunt Lolly were survivors. This chapter is about my aunt’s instability. Her action could have destroyed everything, the business, the family’s reputation, and even led to jail time. By some grace of God, it did not.)

I have an everlasting memory of grandma’s lake cabin on the point in Carlin Bay, overlooking Coeur d’Alene Lake. I was with dad, standing on the grass, looking at the stars. It must have been in the summer of 1959, but it could have been in 1960. Dad was working in Seattle with Boeing and visiting the family. He was eagerly waiting to point out a US satellite appearing for the first time amongst the star-laden sky. Such a common event these days and times was an unheard-of phenomenon back then. While standing there with him, he knelt beside me and pointed out the Big Dipper. As he outlined its shape with his finger, asking me to follow along, I recall him being patient as he repeatedly traced the constellation's shape. I also remember how proud he felt when I finally saw it. He could see my eyes light up once I recognized it, as if a light bulb had gone off in my mind. Knowing that the stars were anything other than twinkling lights in the sky was enchanting.

That was the magic of the lake cabin. Unexpected things that turned everyday experiences into a memorable, life-lasting moment. Grandma Ann had purchased the small wooden cottage in the mid-to-late 1950s. The seller, a widow who had lived there throughout her adult life, could no longer care for the grounds or herself. She had refused to move after her son had drowned when he was a young boy. She had lived alone for years, close to his memory. Now, at an advanced age, she found that the two-lane road into town that wound around the lake was too dangerous and narrow, especially during winter. She needed to be near her doctors and the hospital.

The cabin was fully furnished, and all her precious belongings were left behind. In the small kitchen, which resembled a prop from an old 1930s movie, hung an antique wooden wall phone. It held a nostalgic place for the adults, a memory of days long past. But it was one of our favorite things to play with. We’d lift the receiver, turn the crank, and get the bell to ring.

The old cottage had a loft that sat above the kitchen with big doors that opened out to the backyard where a hammock swung lazily between two beautiful trees. On summer nights, it became a fairytale-like dream. Big barn doors opened wide, and we could fall asleep looking up at the stars while listening to the crickets. There was no other place on earth we wanted to be. We did not relish returning to town and the big house. The cabin provided fleeting moments of peace and normalcy for both the children and the adults, an escape from the growing demands and responsibilities of the tavern.

I couldn’t wait to go to the cabin and hated leaving. Leaving behind the cabin's peace as our car pulled away was sad for me. I was leaving behind my version of what heaven must be like.

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View of Carlin Bay House - 2014

Ann had invested in property for years, just as her father had, and was always on the lookout for good deals. In the late 1950s, when she discovered the lake cabin for sale on a Sunday drive with Jackie and Doug, she was eager to purchase the beautiful, simple cabin overlooking the lake. Given the restrictions placed on women regarding loans from banking or mortgage institutions, she may have paid for it in cash. A simple deed transfer from the aging widow to Ann must have been accomplished without a hitch. Women might not have been able to navigate banks and loans, but no one argued with cash.