Distilled History

A Drinking Blog with a History Problem
September 21st, 2012

Gin and Drugs, My Dear, Gin and Drugs

T.S. Eliot

In his masterpiece The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot begins with the famous line “April is the Cruellest Month”. What follows is generally regarded as one of the most important poems of the 20th Century. When T.S. Eliot published his influential work, it was 1922 and he had been living in London for several years. He was far removed from his youth growing up in the  gritty neighborhood on the western edge of downtown St. Louis.

For that reason, I’ll forgive him for overlooking August in St. Louis, which to me is far crueller.

But T.S. Eliot wasn’t writing about humidity and how ridiculously hot it gets in this town. He may have been alluding to the prologue of Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. He turns it on its head, informing the reader that The Waste Land will be a far darker reading experience.

Personally, I’ve read The Waste Land twice. The first time was about twenty years ago when it was assigned in college. The second time was a few days ago when I realized I was about to write a blog post about T. S. Eliot.  On both occasions, getting through it was no easy feat. The Waste Land changes voices and locations constantly. It contains lines in German and mantras in Sanskrit. It alludes to Homer, the Bible, Aldous Huxley,  Sophocles, Dante, and even Buddha. I won’t pretend to offer insight into its meaning or explain it’s purpose. Just take my word for it. The Waste Land is a momentous achievement. Read it and it’s impossible to not admire the beauty of Eliot’s prose.

The Waste Land

Many haven’t read him, and I’d venture to guess that many more bend the truth and say they have. But find me a person who hasn’t at least heard of T.S. Eliot. Pull up any list of the great poets, and it’s likely his name is on it somewhere. For that reason, it has always surprised me T.S. Eliot is not more recognized in the city he was born and raised in. Eugene Field’s boyhood home in St. Louis is a museum. He lived in St. Louis less than ten years. Scott Joplin’s home is a state historic site. He lived here less than seven.

T.S. Eliot’s time in St. Louis was not a flash in the pan. He was born at 2635 Locust Street in St. Louis on September 26, 1888. He was raised and spent his formative years here until leaving to be educated at Milton Academy and then Harvard. His family was well established in St. Louis. His grandfather was William Greenleaf Eliot, a prominent St. Louisan and co-founder of Washington University.

Recently, I took another great bicycle history tour sponsored by the good people at Trailnet. This one led us up and down Locust Street on the western edge of downtown St. Louis, an area that was once referred to as “Automobile Row”. The area has that nickname because of the large amount of automobile dealerships, showrooms, parts stores, and automotive businesses that once existed there. Another post may be coming about that topic at some point, but Trailnet promoted this tour by claiming we’d see “one of the most overlooked historical locations in the midwest”.  The tour was led by Harold Karrabell, a man  who previously led me on Trailnet bike tours of Cahokia Mounds, East St. Louis, and Carondelet.  As I mentioned in a previous post about the Jacob Stein House, Mr. Karabell has an impressive knowledge of the history of St. Louis. His tours are well-researched, well-organized, and informative. Even better, he prefers to lead these tours while riding a bicycle. And once again, Harold didn’t disappoint. As we rode east along Locust Street, we slowed as we approached the Jefferson Avenue intersection. Harold stopped us in front of a parking lot and pointed out a large plaque on the sidewalk.

T.S. Eliot Plaque at 2635 Locust

The plaque identifies the location of the home where T.S. Eliot was born and raised. My jaw dropped when I saw it. Over the years, I have ridden or driven past this location hundreds of times. I simply never knew it was there. I had always heard Eliot lived in Central West End, not in the sketchy outskirts of downtown St. Louis. I simply love historical markers such as this. Some people prefer to only see historical places that still exist, but that’s not me. I enjoy seeing places that have changed and thinking about why they did. Why was T.S. Eliot’s home razed and turned into a parking lot? What did the neighborhood look like when he lived there? When T.S. Eliot lived at 2635 Locust Street, the population of St. Louis was almost 700,000. In Eliot’s day, the street was likely teeming with activity. Today, the neighborhood shows no sign of once being a residential neighborhood. Fortunately, one building still stands that can give us a frame of reference between then and now.

2635 Locust - H.W. Eliot Home - Then & Now

At the time Eliot lived there, Locust Street was a neighborhood in transition. Once residential, saloons and factories started popping up, making it a rougher part of town. Although the Eliot family was wealthy, they remained in the neighborhood during it’s decline because of family that lived nearby. In 1905, the family moved to a new home in the prosperous Central West End. Although this home still stands today as a private residence,  T.S. Eliot lived here for less than a year before heading off to school.

4446 Westminster Place - H.W. Eliot Home - Then & Now

After graduating from Harvard, Eliot moved to London in 1914. There he met the poet Ezra Pound, a man who would have a profound impact on his writing and career. Pound helped Eliot get his poem The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock published in 1915. The success of Prufrock marked the beginning of Eliot’s career as an influential poet.  Along with The Waste Land, Eliot would publish several noteworthy poems such as The Hollow Men (1925), Ash Wednesday (1930), and Four Quartets (1945), each of which earned him critical acclaim and recognition. He also gained renown as a playwright and a literary critic.  In 1939, he published a book of poems named Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, which became the basis for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical Cats. In time, he’d be recognized as one of the most important poets of the 20th Century. To honor of his impressive body of work, he was awarded the 1948 Nobel Prize for Literature.

 In 1929, Eliot converted to Anglicanism and became a British citizen. He lived the rest of his life in England, but he never forgot the influence St. Louis had on him. Later in life, he spoke about the impact of  growing up in a river town. He fondly recalled going down to Eads Bridge to view the Mississippi when it flooded. He believed people who grew up in a river town understood rhythm more than people who didn’t. In The Four Quartets, he writes about a river in this notable stanza:

The Four Quartets

T.S.EliotEliot did return to his hometown on a few occasions. In 1953, Eliot returned to speak at the celebration of Washington University’s 100th anniversary. In his speech, Eliot expresses his feelings about growing up in St. Louis:

“Many other memories have invaded my mind since I received the invitation to address you today. But I think these are enough to serve as a token of my thoughts and feelings. I am very well satisfied to have having been born in St. Louis. In fact, I’d even say I think I am fortunate to have been born here rather than in Boston, or New York, or London.”

T.S. Eliot died of emphysema on 1965. His ashes are interred at St. Michael’s Church in East Coker, Somerset.

In closing, can we get a street or something named after this guy? As of now, the extent of T.S. Eliot’s recognition in St. Louis doesn’t go beyond a few plaques and a small bust in the Central West End. How about a park or a library? His grandfather has one of the Ittner schools named after him. It’s time St. Louis gave T.S. his due.

Harold Karabell & I on the Automotive Row Trailnet Ride

The Drink

Initially, I planned to get a drink at the closet location possible to T.S. Eliot’s plaque on Locust Street. This worked out pretty well, because that meant I’d be heading to the Schlafly Tap Room, located just a couple blocks to the east. Even better, Schlafly was hosting their annual “Hop in the City” beer festival on the same day Harold showed us the plaque. Since I already had a ticket, it seemed like a perfect fit.

That is, until I read about an exchange T.S. Eliot had with an admirer in the 1950′s. The person asked him about the source of his inspiration. His reply quickly changed my mind.

Gin and drugs, my dear, gin and drugs

Imagine my joy when I found out T.S. Eliot drank gin. Although the Manhattan is my favorite cocktail, gin is very dear to my heart. The gin and tonic is probably my standard drink to have on the porch after a long day at work. I also love martinis. After reading his response,  I started hunting around for more clues about T.S. Eliot’s drinking preferences. The news only got better. I found out he had a cat named “Noilly-Pratt” after the French vermouth brand. In the Letters of T.S. Eliot, he explains how he wrote the monologue to the verse drama Sweeney Agonistes: “I wrote it in three quarters of an hour after church time and before lunch one Sunday morning, with the assistance of half a bottle of Booth’s gin.”. Finally, I found this quote:

Martini Quote

With that, there leaves no doubt that a martini is the drink for a T.S. Eliot blog post. Located just a few blocks west of T.S. Eliot’s boyhood home at 3037 Locust is the Fountain on Locust.  The window of this restaurant advertises ice cream and retro cocktails. It’s a neat place with a fun and colorful decor inside. Their specialty is the “Ice Cream Martini”, and the drink menu has a full-page of varieties. I’m not an ice cream and alcohol kind of guy, so I went for the standard dry martini. The selection of gin at Fountain on Locust is a bit weak for a place advertising retro cocktails, so I the best I could get was Bombay Sapphire. Nothing against Bombay, but I was hoping to get something special like Plymouth or Broker’s.  To my delight, the bartender made me an excellent martini. If it had any vermouth in it, it was probably the same amount my father used when he taught me how to make a martini: Open the vermouth bottle and just wave your hand over it a couple of times. And to top it off, it was wonderfully stirred. I can’t abide a shaken martini. Damn you James Bond! I like to think T.S. Eliot wouldn’t put up with that, either.

The Fountain on Locust

July 12th, 2012

The Jacob Stein House

Head south on Broadway from downtown St. Louis and you’ll soon find yourself in a unique part of town. You’ll be in Carondelet, a large neighborhood that seems to maintain its own identity.  The vibe is different there because Carondelet used to be a separate city entirely.  Incorporated in 1851, Carondelet did not become part of St. Louis until it was annexed in 1870.

Carondelet was first settled by a man named Clement DeLore Detreget in 1767. He was a Frenchman, but the future of Carondelet would be all German. In 1829, a German emigration writer named Gottfried Duden published a famous book titled Bericht über eine Reise nach den westlichen Staaten Nordamerika’s (Report of a journey to the western states of North America). In this book, Duden refers to the area around St. Louis as a “Rhineland of the West”.  His glowing report triggered a huge German immigration to Missouri starting in the 1830′s. By 1850, Census records show that over one-third of Carondelet was German.

The Jacob Steins House

Today, Carondelet is known for containing one of the largest (and most beautiful) public parks in St. Louis. It’s also teeming with historical structures. In the 19th century, German stonemasons built sturdy homes throughout the area that could stand the test of time. Today, Carondelet contains the largest number of stone-built homes in St. Louis.  Some of them are among the oldest structures still standing the St. Louis.

One of them is located at 7600 Reilly Avenue. It’s known today as the Jacob Stein House. Jacob Stein was an important citizen of Carondelet prior to the Civil War. He was an immigration agent, so he also played a role in promoting the area to German immigrants. The neighborhood around his home even became known as “Steins Town”.

Built in 1843, the house is a perfect example of the limestone construction used by German stonemasons at the time. Here’s a photograph of the Jacob Stein house in the late 1800′s.

The Jacob Stein House

In the years after construction, one end of the home was converted into a tavern and a store.  With the neighborhood filled with thirsty Germans working nearby iron and steel mills, it’s a safe bet that making beer readily available would be a profitable venture.  The tavern has since been removed, but the original bar still exists inside the current home.

I learned about this house and the German heritage of Carondelet while on a bicycle tour organized by Trailnet and sponsored by Great Rivers Greenway. On this tour, about twenty-five riders were treated to a historic tour of Carondelet by a brilliant guy named Harold Karabell. I’ve mentioned him before in my post about the Big Mound of St. Louis. He gives a great tour and he has an encyclopedic mind.

Harold & the Bike Tour

A highlight of the day occurred when the current owner of the home came outside to determine why a bunch of people in spandex were gawking at his home. He was a very friendly gentleman who was well aware of the significance of his home. He even produced a photograph he owns of Jacob Stein, the original owner.

Jacob Stein House & Current Owner

The Jacob Stein House was named a St. Louis city landmark in 1976. I’ll have other posts from this bicycle tour of Carondelet coming soon.

Note: I can’t recommend Trailnet highly enough. They have a calendar filled with bicycle rides and similar tours of St. Louis. Not only do they do great work for bicyclists, they do great work for the city of St. Louis. It’s only $55 to become a member, and it’s worth every penny.

The Drink

The drink section of this post took me to a location that I have been meaning to visit for quite some time.  One of the great things about living in St. Louis for the last few years has been taking part in the craft beer explosion that’s happened in this town. New micro-breweries such as Square One, Civil Life, Urban Chestnut, and 4 Hands have popped up all over the city. Carondelet has the distinction of having one of the best new additions to the St. Louis beer scene: Perennial Artisan Ales.

Blueberry Brown Rye

Many craft beer aficionados had been telling me to check this place out for some time.  I just hadn’t made it down there since Carondelet is not in my neck of the woods. Since the Trailnet bike tour took me right past their location, I thought it’d be a perfect time to head over and see what they had to offer.

Perennial focuses on small batches of beer using ingredients and flavors that defy traditional categories. The building offers a spacious bar area and I found the service to be extremely friendly (in other words, they gave me a big free sample of cider). To begin, I ordered their Blueberry Brown Rye.  I did this on purpose, since I normally don’t care for fruit flavor in anything. I love fruit, I love food, and I love beer. But I prefer to keep it all separate. Just like I don’t like blueberries in a bagel, I usually don’t like blueberries in a beer. However, Perennial’s recipe swayed me on this day. The fruit taste was subtle and I found it extremely tasty. I ended up having two.

I followed that up with their Hommel, a dry-hopped Belgian pale ale. Again, very delicious. In all, I highly recommend Perennial, especially to beer lovers looking for something a bit different.

I look forward to getting back to Perennial and I hope they continue to make an impact on the St. Louis beer scene.

June 25th, 2012

The Big Mound of St. Louis

Big Mound Rock

Head north of downtown St. Louis and you may bump into a peculiar monument. A big rock, raised up on four levels of brickwork, sits near the intersection of Broadway and Mound Street in the Old North St. Louis neighborhood. Inconspicuous, this rock actually marks a significant site in St. Louis area history. This is where “The Big Mound” once stood, the largest of the Indian platform mounds that dotted the landscape where the city of St. Louis now stands. An extension of the famous Cahokia Mounds on the eastern side of the Mississippi River, these mounds were built by the Mississippian culture that thrived in this area between 900 A.D. and 1300 A.D.

I first heard about this landmark on a recent guided bike tour of the Mound City Interpretive Trail, sponsored by Trailnet. A local historian named Harold was our guide, and his knowledge of St. Louis is extraordinary. As we rode, we’d stop often and he’d throw out great history facts and stories about the Indian mounds and nearby communities. At one stop, he briefly mentioned a mound that once existed on the St. Louis side of the river. He said a monument even still stood for it. I knew right away it would be a great topic for this blog. When the tour was over, I headed over the river and found the rock. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. I often bike up and down Broadway on history hunting rides. It simply never caught my eye. But back in 1850, you couldn’t miss what stood there.

Big Mound

The mound stood approximately 30 feet high, extended about 150 feet, and had an oval shape. It had a flattened top that was about 15-18 feet wide. When St. Louis was initially settled by the French, it was called “La Grange de Terre”, which means “Earthen Barn”. It was later referred to simply as “The Big Mound” since it was the biggest of the twenty-seven Indian mounds that dotted the western side of the river. The image below shows an early survey map of the St. Louis mound group. Big Mound is circled in red.

St. Louis Mound Group

In the 1840′s and 1850′s, St. Louis began to grow rapidly. It was decided to level “The Big Mound”, and it finally came down in 1869. The dirt and clay from the mound was used as back fill and to make brick for a growing city. Sadly, very little (if any) archaeological work was done during its demolition. However, some early St. Louis knew enough to take some daguerreotypes of the mound before it disappeared for good.

Destruction of Big Mound in 1869
A granite boulder is all that remains today. It’s in an industrial part of St. Louis that doesn’t get much traffic. A plaque was once attached to the rock describing the significance of the site. It seems to have been stolen, but my guide Harold says it was intentionally removed to prevent it from being stolen. On the other side of the boulder, an attractive plaque of a Native American remains in place.
Big Mound Plaques
Get down to see the rock while you can. The boulder is schedule to be relocated to make room for a new 700 million dollar Mississippi River Bridge, scheduled to open in 2014. Look east from the rock today and you’ll see the giant spires of the new bridge directly in front of you. The new bridge will pass directly over the former location of Big Mound. While you are at it, head south of downtown and check out Sugarloaf Mound. It’s the only Indian mound in St. Louis that still stands.
The Drink
Rye Manhattan at the Royale

As discussed in the About This Blog page, my idea for this blog is twofold. I want to find historical places in St. Louis that pique my curiosity. While I do it, I want to find places in St. Louis where I can get a good cocktail. Since this is my first blog post, I wanted to get a drink where I know I’d get a good one.

Most of the time, that place is the Royale on South Kingshighway. It’s a pleasant bar with good food and a fun decor. It’s a good place for liberals like me to hang out and read a book (the lighting is great during the day). The Royale prides itself on knowing and serving classic cocktails. Their drink menu is filled with old-time drinks such as the Old Fashioned and the Sidecar.  Each recipe has a bit of a unique Royale twist that I always appreciate. Not really wanting a unique twist with my Manhattan on this day, I still felt pretty confident that I could sit down order “a Manhattan cocktail” and get one perfectly done without any special instructions.

And dammit, it didn’t happen. They gave it to me on the rocks. I believe a Manhattan should always be straight-up. The Manhattan rocks drinkers are ruining it for the rest of us. You should all be banished to a remote island. Still, my bartender had it pretty close (except for serving it in the wrong glass and filled with ice). He used about a 50/50 split of Rittenhouse Rye 100 along with Dolin Sweet Vermouth. It had a couple of dashes of Angostura bitters and a small lemon peel (which is a unique twist I do enjoy). It was stirred, which is also correct (Manhattan shakers also get banished to Bad Cocktail Island).

Spare a lemon peel?

I had ordered it straight-up, so I had no problem sending it back. My bartender then just strained it into a martini glass (sigh).  But instead of a new lemon peel, he fished into the ice with his fingers and re-used the old peel. It was pretty disappointing for a place that even hosts special events for classic cocktails (at least give me a new lemon peel).  The Manhattan was still very tasty, however. I’ll chalk it up as an off-day for the Royale. I’ll certainly be back.

I am now starting to think the “drink” aspect of my history tours are going to be far more entertaining and informative than I initially thought.