I Heart St. Louis Reference LibGuide: The Unexpected

In 2011, the centennial of Tennessee Williams's birth, events were held around the world honoring America's greatest playwright. There were festivals, conferences, and exhibitions held in places closely associated with Williams's life and career--New Orleans held major celebrations, as did New York, Key West, and Provincetown. But absolutely nothing was done to celebrate Williams's life and extraordinary literary and theatrical career in the place that he lived in longest, and called home longer than any other--St. Louis, Missouri. The question of this paradox lies at the heart of this book, an attempt not so much to correct the record about Williams's well-chronicled dislike of the city, but rather to reveal how the city was absolutely indispensable to his formation and development both as a person and artist. Unlike the prevailing scholarly narrative that suggests that Williams discovered himself artistically and sexually in the deep South and New Orleans, Blue Song reveals that Williams remained emotionally tethered to St. Louis for a host of reasons for the rest of his life.

Like most of the nation during the 1930s, St. Louis, Missouri, was caught in the stifling grip of the Great Depression. For the next thirty years, the "Gateway City" continued to experience significant urban decline as its population swelled and the area's industries stagnated. Over these decades, many African American citizens in the region found themselves struggling financially and fighting for access to profitable jobs and suitable working conditions. To combat ingrained racism, crippling levels of poverty, and sub-standard living conditions, black women worked together to form a community-based culture of resistance--fighting for employment, a living wage, dignity, representation, and political leadership. Gateway to Equality investigates black working-class women's struggle for economic justice from the rise of New Deal liberalism in the 1930s to the social upheavals of the 1960s. Author Keona K. Ervin explains that the conditions in twentieth-century St. Louis were uniquely conducive to the rise of this movement since the city's economy was based on light industries that employed women, such as textiles and food processing. As part of the Great Migration, black women migrated to the city at a higher rate than their male counterparts, and labor and black freedom movements relied less on a charismatic, male leadership model. This made it possible for women to emerge as visible and influential leaders in both formal and informal capacities. In this impressive study, Ervin presents a stunning account of the ways in which black working-class women creatively fused racial and economic justice. By illustrating that their politics played an important role in defining urban political agendas, her work sheds light on an unexplored aspect of community activism and illuminates the complexities of the overlapping civil rights and labor movements during the first half of the twentieth century.

In the autumn of 1972, Lucy Ferriss, then a college student in California, was preparing for the Veiled Prophet Ball at which she was to be presented to St. Louis society. Once the largest cotillion in the country, the invitation-only ball was unique among society events not only for the legend and mystery surrounding its namesake but also for its setting in a public, taxpayer-funded arena and for its accompanying parade.             In the late sixties and early seventies, with racial tensions at a boiling point and urban renewal failing, the exclusively white male Christian membership of the Veiled Prophet Society and the Veiled Prophet's costume--eerily reminiscent of a Klansman's--attracted the ire of ACTION, a militant civil rights group. Before the 1972 ball, ACTION founder Percy Green, himself a native St. Louisan, sent letters inviting all of the debutantes to join in the protest: "ACTION understands that you hate being part of this upcoming white racist Veiled Prophet Ball as we hate you being forced to participate by your parents." The letter didn't persuade Ferriss, who felt she owed it to her father to participate. She wrote back: "Don't you have bigger fish to fry? This is just a stupid party. We are slaughtering people in Southeast Asia. Let this one go. It will fall of its own weight."             But ACTION did not let this one go. On the night of the ball, as Ferriss bowed in obeisance to the crowd and took her place on the stage, a woman swooped down onto the stage and knocked off the Veiled Prophet's hat and veil, revealing his identity. In the era of monumental Vietnam War protests, unmasking a wealthy and powerful old man might have seemed a feeble act of revolution, but this act forever changed the Veiled Prophet Ball in St. Louis.             Ferriss's memoir blends regional history, national history, and her own personal history to create a fast-paced narrative that follows two time lines. One is the dramatic and often funny story of her attending the exclusive ball, having eaten half a pan of marijuana brownies beforehand, with a Jewish hippie who smelled of "unwashed beard." The other story takes place thirty years later as Ferriss returns to St. Louis from her home on the East Coast to track down some of ACTION's principal activists as well as key figures in the Veiled Prophet Society.             Over the course of this engaging story, Ferriss undergoes her own unveiling, as she discusses and comes to terms with her family; the past, present, and future of St. Louis; and the cultural politics that frame young women's entrance into society.

Call Me Tom is the first book-length biography of one of Missouri's most successful senators. A moderate liberal in a conservative state, Thomas F. Eagleton was known for his political independence, integrity, and intelligence, likely the reasons Eagleton never once lost an election in his thirty years of public service. Born in St. Louis, Eagleton began his public career in 1956 as St. Louis Circuit Attorney. At 27, he was the youngest person in the history of the state to hold that position, and he duplicated the feat in his next two elected positions, attorney general in 1960 and lieutenant governor in 1964. In 1968, he was elected to the U.S. Senate, where he served until 1987. He was thrown into the national spotlight in 1972 when revelations regarding his mental health, particularly the shock treatments he received for depression, forced his resignation as a vice presidential nominee of the Democratic Party. All of that would overshadow his significant contributions as senator, especially on environmental and social legislation, as well as his defense of Congressional authority on war making and his role in the U. S. military disengagement from Southeast Asia in 1973. Respected biographer James N. Giglio provides readers with an encompassing and nuanced portrait of Eagleton by placing the man and his career in the context of his times. Giglio allows readers to see his rumpled suits, smell the smoke of his Pall Mall cigarettes, hear his gravelly voice, and relish his sense of humor. At the same time, Giglio does not shy away from the personal torments that Eagleton had to overcome. A definitive examination of the senator's career also reveals his unique ability to work with Republican counterparts, especially prior to the 1980s when bipartisanship was more possible. Measuring the effect his mental illness had on his career, Giglio determines that the removal of aspirations for higher office in 1972 made Eagleton a better senator. He consistently took principled stands, with the ultimate goal of preserving and modernizing the agenda of Franklin D. Roosevelt, his favorite president. Thoroughly researched using the Eagleton Papers and interviews with more than eighty-five people close to Eagleton, including family, friends, colleagues, subordinates, and former classmates, Call Me Tom offers an engaging and in-depth portrayal of a man who remained a devoted public servant throughout his life.

Joe Garagiola remembers playing baseball with stolen balls and bats while growing up on the Hill. Chuck Berry had run-ins with police before channeling his energy into rock and roll. But not all the boys growing up on the rough streets of St. Louis had loving families or managed to find success. This book reviews a century of history to tell the story of the "lost" boys who struggled to survive on the city's streets as it evolved from a booming late-nineteenth-century industrial center to a troubled mid-twentieth-century metropolis. To the eyes of impressionable boys without parents to shield them, St. Louis presented an ever-changing spectacle of violence. Small, loosely organized bands from the tenement districts wandered the city looking for trouble, and they often found it. The geology of St. Louis also provided for unique accommodations--sometimes gangs of boys found shelter in the extensive system of interconnected caves underneath the city. Boys could hide in these secret lairs for weeks or even months at a stretch. Bonnie Stepenoff gives voice to the harrowing experiences of destitute and homeless boys and young men who struggled to grow up, with little or no adult supervision, on streets filled with excitement but also teeming with sharpsters ready to teach these youngsters things they would never learn in school. Well-intentioned efforts of private philanthropists and public officials sometimes went cruelly astray, and sometimes were ineffective, but sometimes had positive effects on young lives. Stepenoff traces the history of several efforts aimed at assisting the city's homeless boys. She discusses the prison-like St. Louis House of Refuge, where more than 80 percent of the resident children were boys, and Father Dunne's News Boys' Home and Protectorate, which stressed education and training for more than a century after its founding. She charts the growth of Skid Row and details how historical events such as industrialization, economic depression, and wars affected this vulnerable urban population. Most of these boys grew up and lived decent, unheralded lives, but that doesn't mean that their childhood experiences left them unscathed. Their lives offer a compelling glimpse into old St. Louis while reinforcing the idea that society has an obligation to create cities that will nurture and not endanger the young.

The Roaring Twenties was a period of lavish living in St. Louis. In 1917, when Ellsworth Statler decided to build a hotel in St. Louis, he ignited a hotel-building boom that was only quenched by the Great Depression of 1929. Architectural masterpieces arose, and local citizens and out-of-towners marveled at their grandeur. These hotels were hubs of activity and gathering places for high society. They survived the Great Depression and two world wars, but urban demise forced elegant hotels to crumble in disrepair. This book tells the intriguing stories of the Statler, the Chase, the Mayfair, the Lennox and the Coronado Hotels. Today, these hotels are restored and renewed--as glamorous now as they were in their earliest days. They welcome visitors to admire their beauty and savor the history they hold.

In Only in St. Louis , Charlie Brennan shares the most incredible, strange and inspiring stories he has come across in his three decades talking about the Gateway City. Readers will learn: Wilt Chamberlain was traded in a St. Louis restaurant. Jesus Christ Superstar was first staged in St. Louis, not New York. A St. Louis Cardinal pitcher beat Randy Johnson while drinking vodka. A St. Louis mayor was buried three times. Supreme Court Justices laughed aloud while hearing a St. Louis case. A St. Louis woman woke up when she heard an intruder...who turned out to be a national celebrity. Kenny Wayne Shepherd's worst moment on stage was in St. Louis. A St. Louis man found $1,200 in his ceiling. J.S. Bach's personal bibles are in St. Louis. A St. Louis high school name is actually misspelled. Why Kurt Warner listed his name and address in the phone book. The Air Force's biggest weapon is made in St. louis. John Lennon's song "Imagine" has a St. Louis connection. The NFL's "lowest blow" has ties to St. Louis. Twinkies were named in St. Louis. A lost wallet led to one of the best-selling songs of the 1960s. The woman who injected John Belushi with a fatal dose hid in St. Louis. A St. Louis man swam 292 miles of the Mississippi River without stopping. Why General William Tecumseh Sharman could defeat the south but not City Hall. The only company to prepare cocaine for medicinal use is in St. Louis. A St. Louis barista became a billionaire. A man was attacked by a shark in downtown St. Louis. A St. Louis man played basketball for St. Louis Community College, football for Yale and is now a top national journalist. Brennan, host of "The Charlie Brennan Show" on KMOX and provocateur of "Donnybrook" on KETC-TV, curates these and other stories for the first time in one volume.

Though the city of St. Louis is located on the Missouri side of the Mississippi River, for the railroads, the St. Louis Gateway extends into Illinois, north and south along both sides of the river. Two factors conspired against St. Louis's aspiration to become the preeminent rail center of the 19th-century American Midwest: there was no bridge across the Mississippi, and Missouri's loyalty to the Union during the Civil War was suspect. Chicago beat out St. Louis to attain the region's top railroad billing. Fast forward to the 1970s, when the Gateway Arch, dedicated in 1968, redefined the St. Louis riverfront and when the St. Louis Union Station closed to rail service. The 1970s was a decade of railroad debuts--Burlington Northern, Illinois Central Gulf, Family Lines--and a decade of railroad demises--Rock Island and Frisco. It signaled the end of a century of rail domination of the American transportation scene.

St. Louis was a city under siege during Prohibition. Seven different criminal gangs violently vied for control of the town's illegal enterprises. Although their names (the Green Ones, the Pillow Gang, the Russo Gang, Egan's Rats, the Hogan Gang, the Cuckoo Gang and the Shelton Gang) are familiar to many, their exploits have remained largely undocumented until now. Learn how an awkward gunshot wound gave the Pillow Gang its name and why Willie Russo's bizarre midnight interview with a reporter from the St. Louis Star involved an automatic pistol and a floating hunk of cheese. From daring bank robberies to cold-blooded betrayals, Gangs of St. Louis chronicles a fierce yet juicy slice of the Gateway City's history that rivaled anything seen in New York or Chicago.

In the late 19th century, St. Louis--America's fourth-largest city--was a hub of robust commerce and risque entertainment. It provided an oasis for those who lived "in the shadows." Since 1764, the Gateway to the West's LGBT community has experienced countless struggles and successes, including protests, arrests, murders, celebrations, and parades. St. Louis had its own version of Stonewall in October 1969 and is the hometown of icons such as Tennessee Williams and Josephine Baker. A colorful array of activists, drag queens, leather men, artists, academics, business leaders, and everyday folks have contributed to the rich fabric of the lesbian and gay community in St. Louis."

In 1927, on the northeast corner of Cherokee and Iowa Streets in south St. Louis, a multistory, multipurpose building was erected. Retail shops and a bowling alley occupied the first floor, while upstairs was a place that defied the imagination of someone driving by in their brand new Model T Ford. Today, that upstairs space, with its lofty ceiling, huge maple tongue-in-groove dance floor, and wraparound balcony, is the Casa Loma Ballroom--St. Louis' last grand ballroom. Today, one gets the feeling that the ghosts of the big bands and the vocalists still linger there--and with good reason. Just about everybody who was anybody played there at one time or another. Ol' Blue Eyes himself, before he was the idol of millions, received just a meager "Featured Singer, Frank Sinatra" note at the bottom of the Casa Loma bill the night he played with the Harry James Orchestra.

On the surface, the Woman's Exchange of St. Louis is an exquisite gift shop with an adjacent tearoom--beloved, always packed, the chatter light and feminine, the salads and pies perfect. But the volunteers who run the Woman's Exchange have had enough grit to keep the place going through two world wars, a Great Depression, several recessions, the end of fine craftsmanship and the start of a new DIY movement. The "decayed gentlewomen" they set out to help in 1883 are now refugees from Afghanistan, battered wives and mothers of sons paralyzed in Iraq. Sample the radical changes they have made over the years, as well as the institutions they wisely left alone, like the iconic cherry dress that has charmed generations of women and mothers, including Jacqueline Kennedy and Gwyneth Paltrow.