Cold Heart is getting positive reviews so it’s a good time to celebrate! Black Rose Writing and Goodreads are partnering to give away 3 autographed copies of Cold Heart.

Goodreads is the world’s largest site for readers and book recommendations. Their mission is to help people find and share books they love.

Entering the contest is easy: you just enter your mailing information, and Goodreads will inform the winners at the end of May! Click here to enter the contest

Also, I want to give a BIG thank you to everyone who has written a review! They mean a lot to me and I truly appreciate them! I want to highlight a recent review that really made my day, but you can read all the Amazon reviews here.

 

I’m doing research for my book and was reading an article published on Dec 30, 1900 in the Minneapolis Star Tribune, when this headline caught my eye.

Port Jervis, NY. William Hull was drinking with his neighbor, Moses Storms (great name). After “a liberal flow of beer”, Hull drew up a contract to sell his wife to Storms for ten cents.  This was a real contract, specifying that the payment was to be made in cash, and signed by William, Moses, Mary (William’s wife), and another person. Moses paid up and he and Mary left together.

That’s a pretty good start, right? But just wait until you hear this part.

On Christmas morning, Hull was feeling a little sentimental. He went to Storms’ place, and declared he was taking his wife back. Moses objected, citing the contract, but Hull had an ace up his sleeve. He informed his neighbor that the contract null and void because it had been drawn up on a Sunday.

Storms was seriously upset. His new wife was snatched unceremoniously from his house and taken back to the Hull home. Adding insult to injury, Hull did not refund his ten cents. Storms consulted a legal expert for advice but the old judge shook his head and said the contract wasn’t good.

Storms was quoted as follows: Bill Hull buncoed me out of a wife and 10 cents in money.” I think he pretty much summed it up right there.

On the same day, another transaction involving a much more expensive wife transpired.

Wilmerding, PA: Antonio Abbitticha and Nicholas Baloga were both in love with Carolina Mereno back in Italy. Carolina chose Baloga.

Years later, Antonio Abbitticha came for a visit. Since the time he had hoped to marry Carolina, Nicholas and Carolina got married, moved to the United States, and had a baby.

Antonio made a good-natured remark about “Lucky Nick”. But Nicholas was like, “Well, ackshually…” And eventually let his old rival know it might have been better if the roles were reversed and he was “Lucky Antonio”.

A deal was quickly struck that would sell Carolina to Antonio for a sum of $8. (You have to wonder how Mary Hull felt about that.) But things hit a snag. Carolina didn’t say anything about parting from Nicholas, but she wasn’t about to leave her child behind. Antonio was probably out of cash, but he was a resourceful guy and offered to throw in two kegs of beer for the child, which sounded perfectly adequate to Baloga. Lucky Nick wrote out a receipt for his wife and child, and Antonio, Carolina, and the child headed back to Italy.

Despite the funny elements, the stories initially felt degrading to the women involved. But after giving it some thought, the article didn’t seem to indicate either woman was sorry to leave her husband. My guess is they probably saw it as some sort of deliverance. Who knows? They may have even orchestrated it.

It’s well to remember that for every lousy husband like Nicholas Baroga or William Hull, there were plenty of normal men. And, lest I overlook the fact that there were also women who behaved badly, the Minneapolis Star Tribune considerately placed this article next to the wife-sellers:

Ava, Illinois. Mrs. John Conner was miffed with the editor of Ava Advertiser, Mr. E.E. Waller.

Waller’s offense was publishing an article that denounced a man and woman, both unnamed, for refusing to take copies of his paper that had been mailed to them.

Mrs. Conner was not a woman to be trifled with. She was the unnamed woman who had refused the copy of the Ava Advertiser. And she didn’t appreciate Waller printing the story.

She appeared at his office with her nephew and her brother-in-law, and demanded Waller apologize. When he refused, she pulled a riding whip from her pocket and horse-whipped him. There’s no mention of her even being arrested for this.

Significantly, the paper hastened to add that Mrs. Conner “moves in the very best society.” The editor of Minneapolis Star Tribune sure didn’t want to get on her bad side!

 

Just in case you think I made it up:

Minneapolis Star Tribune, Dec 30, 1900

Old Spirituals readers, I need your help. I’m used to floundering around to find an answer to historical mysteries but I’ve finally found one that I can’t seem to crack.

I’m working on Book #3, which is about a murder that took place in Missouri, and right there we have the mystery. How do you pronounce Missouri? Is it Missouree or Missourah?

You’d think I could get away with just writing it and not pronouncing it, but people often ask about my books so it comes up.

Last week, for instance, I had two conversations that illustrate why this is a pressing question. In the first one, I referred to Missouree, and the other person said, “It’s pronounced Missourah.”

Two days later, I mentioned to a different person that the new book takes place in Missourah, and this heartless person laughed and said, “You mean Missouree?”

I hate mispronouncing things, though I do it all the time. I went to YouTube for the answer, but came away even more confused. More people say Missouree, but that doesn’t mean it’s correct. Also, in the state itself, there’s a large percentage of people who say Missourah, including employees at the historical society I’ve been working with. Apparently, even the governor of Missouri alternately calls the state Missourah and Missouree.

The only other word I have this trouble with is “niche”, as in a niche market. (Is it neesh or nitch? Whichever way I say it, the person I’m talking to will invariably correct me and tell me the opposite.) I just stopped using “niche” but I can’t get away with avoiding “Missouri”.

In the future, it’s probably best to avoid writing about locations I can’t pronounce, but since I’ve already put in a lot of work on this one, can anyone shed some light on this mystery?