Chapter One
Family Ties
Jackie loved visiting her grandparents at The Dakota apartment. When she was a little girl, she called The Dakota a storybook castle because of its intricate Victorian-style German Renaissance architecture. The dramatic rooflines, dormers, and turrets with iron balustrades, each resembling a small balcony, made her feel like Rapunzel. When she looked upon the vast greenscapes of Central Park, she’d pretend she was a princess and the park was her vast realm.
As Jackie grew, Grandma Piggy and Grandda Liam told her many tales of all the interesting and eclectic people who lived under the building’s roof.
She didn’t recognize all the famous names from the Golden Age of Hollywood’s past, but she loved to hear her grandmother talk about her glittering encounters with people like Lauren Bacall and Truman Capote. And as unapologetic relics of the 60s and 70s, Peggy and Liam often regaled her with stories of the fun times they had with fellow residents Gilda Radner and John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Peggy played Lennon’s records for Jackie, frequently telling her stories of the beloved man behind the celebrity.
Since Liam was an Irish count, born into a wealthy aristocratic family, their fortune never depended on his artwork or Peggy’s 60s folk record sales. And when Jackie’s mother Joan came into their lives, they focused on parenthood and other interests, following the Lennons to every sit-in and protest, offering their musical and artistic talents when needed.
The Dakota was a magical place. Peggy said it had an electric aura that attracted unique people.
But Jackie’s favorite place in her grandparents’ home was the storage room, located a few floors above the family apartment.
Inside the stark white room lived the echoes of her ancestors. Stacked from floor to ceiling on organized shelves, filling all the space in the room were the trappings of those who came before her.
Various wooden chests, worn cardboard boxes and crates, a myriad of chairs, bookcases, and furniture covered in aged white cotton cloths surrounded her. Each item represented lost treasures of days gone by and fueled Jackie’s play life from as soon as she could walk.
She felt like a time traveler whisking back and forth in the eras of her family’s past. Peggy often encouraged her to explore and play, saying that Jackie needed to understand where she came from to see where she was going.
In wooden trunks that belonged to her fourth great-grandmothers Caroline and Maggie, there were beautiful gowns made of satin and Irish lace, handmade by Maggie and her mother, Katherine, in the old country.
Though worn from age, she particularly loved donning the long gloves, big-brimmed feathered hats, and exquisitely custom-made gowns. She’d dangle handkerchiefs embroidered with the initials CSD made her feel like a real lady of the turn of the century Gilded Age, just like Caroline had been when she was the Viscountess of Donegal.
She fantasized about the daily lives of Caroline and Maggie as they came to America from Ireland, the best of childhood friends. Sometimes she tried on the wedding dress Maggie made for Caroline, one of her favorites. Musing at her reflection in the ornate full-length mirror, she’d pretend she was marrying the prince of her dreams.
Then in a flash, she’d travel to the 1940s and the glitter and glamor of the war era where her G-Gram Suzy was a USO singer and her great-grandfather, Red, a love-struck sailor. Although much of the wardrobe was at Suzy’s Chicago home, Jackie would dress in sparkly sequined dresses and slinky satin gowns and gaze in the mirror holding a broom or a hairbrush and pretend to be a famous singer.
Her favorite make-believe playground was the 1960s. An old beaten steamer trunk covered with stickers of faded flowers and peace signs contained the era of her Grandma Piggy and Grandpa Liam. Slipping into a fringe vest and headbands and long bell-bottomed jeans, she would reenact stories Piggy and Liam chronicled of their time at Woodstock and living in a commune.
Many of their legendary tales filled her bedtime hours as a child, along with stories and songs passed down along the way. But the one she requested over and over was how, by happenstance or fate, Piggy and Liam met in Central Park when he nearly ran her over while on horseback. And then to find out that they were both descended from best friends Maggie and Caroline made it a true destiny.
Her grandda coined the nickname “Piggy,” as a form of endearment. Jackie always thought it was funny and adopted it as her own pet name for her grandmother.
The Dakota storage unit was like her own personal costume shop, wearing many of her family’s clothes for Halloween and themed parties and school dances. But even more, she considered the room the time capsule that contained charming stories of her family and the magnetic binds that drew their souls together.
But on this particular afternoon in The Dakota storage unit, Jackie and Peggy were on a mission—digging for something particular and very special.
“I don’t understand why I can’t find it. It was here the last time I looked,” Peggy said, frustrated. She placed her hands on her hips, scanning the room.
“If you tell me what it looks like, Piggy. I’ll be able to help you,” Jackie said.
“No, no, I know what it looks like. I’ll find it. You go ahead and explore.” Peggy sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, squinting at each nook and cranny.
Jackie shrugged and walked over to the Victorian age trunk, opened it and took some long gold satin gloves from the top, fastening the aged pearls to each satin loop. Then she dug a little deeper and retrieved a slightly faded emerald green taffeta gown. After pulling it over her head , she admired herself in the dusty glass mirror. The dress was striking against her light auburn hair—a generational family trait from her grandmother, and great-grandfather Red, to Maggie, and her father before her.“Take a look, Piggy—do I look like the Viscountess?” Jackie giggled.
Peggy paused her search and studied her granddaughter. With her green eyes twinkling, she mimicked an Irish brogue.
“Me dear, you are the spitting image of the Irish flag… emerald green dress, pale white skin, and a carrottop on your head. But you’re not the Viscountess yet. Someday, when I’m gone, your mother will be the countess and you’ll be the Viscountess of Donegal.”
“Do you think Bradley will like me looking like this?” Jackie aped an aristocratic accent.
Peggy stared at her granddaughter in disbelief.
“Who’s Bradley? You didn’t tell me anything about him.”
Jackie laughed, teasing her grandmother and coyly swung the skirt of the dress back and forth.
“I knew that would get your attention. He’s a boy who wrote me a note in class asking if I had a boyfriend. I don’t have any friends yet at this new school, so I was really surprised he noticed me.”
Peggy swiftly moved across the room to dish with Jackie. “Tell me everything.”
Ever since she was a child, Jackie confided every thought to her grandmother. Peggy happily relished their close relationship, trying to impart her granddaughter with many family stories and her own experiences to set her on a path of personal discovery.
“I don’t know if he likes me for sure. But he’s blond and has pretty blue eyes that sparkle when I look at him,” Jackie smiled.
“That’s how your grandda was when I met him. He had a mop of cornflower hair and the kindest eyes. An absolute dream. He still is, but his hair is much shorter and grayer.” Peggy beamed.
Jackie glanced in the mirror again and grinned.
“Piggy, if I look so good in this dress, maybe my sweet sixteen party could be a fancy ball, like Caroline used to go to?”
Peggy stared at Jackie adoringly, taking her light auburn tresses in her hands, holding them up on Jackie’s head. With her big doe green eyes staring back at her, Peggy was amazed at how grown up her little girl had become.
Jackie affectionally gazed at her grandmother in the reflection. Compared with the pictures on her albums and scrapbooks, she thought Peggy still looked youthful. Except for the large stripes of gray in her otherwise orange red hair showing the signs of time, her radiant green eyes still expressed a gleeful spirit and peaceful soul that Jackie loved.
“My darling dear, no matter what you wear, you’ll have them waiting in line. But don’t be too quick to fall in love. There’s a big world out there and you can make it whatever you want and share it with whomever or however many whomevers you want.”
Jackie grinned. “Ah, Piggy, I just like the one boy. Give me a chance to enjoy it. It won’t be my last, I promise. But I do look good, don’t I?”
Peggy gently dropped Jackie’s long hair and fluffed it out over her shoulders.
“A Victorian ball would be fun. Everyone can dress up and we can host it here and serve little sandwiches and cake and punch from Caroline’s fancy bowl. We’ll have to ask your mother, of course. And I still have to find that sewing machine! Now, where is it?” Peggy stomped her foot.
Jackie rummaged around to help her, moving boxes and lifting several aged cotton drop cloths. Behind a trunk, she glimpsed a box with a round top and handle.
“Piggy, is this it?”
She pulled the heavy case from its hiding spot.
Peggy turned around and smiled with glee.
“Yes, that’s it. Wonderful! Please bring it downstairs when you’re done playing dress-up. It’s time for Grandma Maggie’s sewing machine to go to Ireland. I’ll have it serviced and I can teach you how to sew properly with some of the tricks I learned from your great-grandma Suzy.”
“Let’s head down now. I can’t wait to learn to sew. Who knows, maybe one day I can make clothes like Maggie did,” Jackie said and slowly took off the dress and gloves and carefully put them back in the wooden chest.
“I’m so glad. Your mother never had any interest in anything I could teach her, especially learning to sew. She always had her sights in a different direction. You know those rich Wall Street types. They want to buy everything from designers.” Peggy grimaced.
Jackie’s mother Joan was named after signer Joan Baez, who performed at the Woodstock festival on the celestial night of her creation in her parents’ VW van. Growing up in the midst of her parents’ flower-child generation, Joan always called their lifestyle hippie nonsense, loathing her connection to their free-living roots and despising her “Woodstock baby” moniker of “Birdie,” the mascot of the festival.
Rejecting her parents’ bohemian values, Joan chose her own path of Wall Street and finance. Studying at prep school and Wharton, she took advantage of the family title and married into a family of well-known society and Wall Street tycoons. Her in-laws preferred Manhattan, dinner parties, and suits, a stark contrast to her parents’ free peace and love existence.
Unfortunately, it was a chasm neither parents nor their daughter could mend, as they each could never understand the other’s point of view.
This generational divide mystified Jackie, as she was fascinated by her family’s history.
She happily spent many hours of her childhood listening to stories of Woodstock and her grandparents’ cool 60s adventures and the journeys of her other relatives. Through the stories of their past and those who came before, Jackie drew closer to her family’s lore and her grandparents, embracing it as her history and rite of passage.
As they recovered the trunks and furniture with their cotton dust cloths, Jackie gushed about their upcoming trip.
“Piggy, I can’t wait to finally be in Ireland for Christmas this year. It’ll be amazing,” Jackie said.
Since marrying Wall Street guru Mark Lyons, Joan bought into a life of skiing in Aspen at Christmas, summers in the Hamptons, and sometimes spring trips to Europe—but never to Ireland. For some reason, while Joan was happy to flaunt her title as viscountess of Donegal as the key to the wealthiest circles in New York, she never embraced her Irish heritage.
“Yes, it’s a long time coming. You’ll love Ireland. And Christmas in Ireland is something very special. The older your grandda and I get, the more we like to spend every minute we can in the beautiful rolling green fields of the Emerald Isle. There’s really nothing like it here in the US. It’s an enchanting place. I can’t wait to show you everything. I’m glad your mother finally agreed to go. After all, it’s the 600th anniversary celebration of Donegal Castle. Can you imagine something being in our family for centuries, handed down from generation to generation?”
Jackie waved her hand around the room packed with boxes of memories and mementos and laughed.
“Yes, Piggy, judging from this collection, I can definitely see how our family loves to pass things down!”
Peggy laughed and looked at her watch.
“Oh, look at the time. OK, funny boots. Even with your school’s late start today, I better get you to class on time. If your mother finds out we were playing in this storage room and missed your school bell, she’ll have my head.”
“OK, although I’d rather stay here. This school’s a bore. All the kids are stuck up.”
Jackie grabbed the sewing machine box and carried it down the flight of stairs to the elevator.
When they reached the apartment, Peggy opened the massive wooden paneled apartment door with Jackie behind her. In the apartment foyer, Liam faced them with a look of concern. He silently waved Peggy into the library.
“Go ahead and get your things together for school. I’ll just be a moment,” Peggy said.
Jackie stepped into her room at The Dakota, her home away from home. Although her parents’ Manhattan apartment was nearby, she loved spending time with Liam and Piggy and often stayed overnight.
It had been her room at The Dakota since birth, as she and her mother lived with Peggy and Liam for the first few years of her life. Jackie never met her birth father, who spent a wild prom night with her rebellious mother. Those formidable years gave Peggy and Liam the opportunity to instill their views into little Jackie and continually bond over stories and songs of the past, to the constant displeasure of her mother.
Jackie quickly grabbed her jacket and backpack and returned to the living room where Liam and Peggy were waiting for her with soulful faces.
“Sit down, Little Bug, we have something to talk to you about,” Liam said gently. He ushered her to one of the long couches in the living room in front of the giant fireplace with the regal picture of Caroline shining above.
Jackie was alarmed as her grandparents unusually looked sullen and upset. Liam and Peggy were the happiest people she’d ever known.
Worried something happened or she was in trouble, she searched her memory, but couldn’t think of anything she’d done to warrant such a harsh look. But then again, she thought, he did say little Bug, his nickname for her since she was a baby—as cute as a Bug in a rug. So maybe it wasn’t that bad.
Sandwiched in between Peggy and Liam sitting on either side of her, she was suddenly filled with dread. From the tone of Liam’s voice, she knew she had to brace for impact.
“Jackie, we have to tell you about something horrible that’s happened,” Liam said.“A plane hit the north tower of the World Trade Center and it’s on fire. They’re trying to evacuate people in both towers now, but it’s pretty bad.”
She felt numb all over. “Grandda? Will my parents be able to get out?” She gulped for breath, her soulful eyes looking to him for hope.
Peggy gazed at Liam with woeful eyes and squeezed his hand.
Hesitating for just a moment, he forced a smile and put his arm around Jackie.
“Yes, Little Bug. Luckily, they’re in the south tower and the police and firefighters are doing everything they can to get everyone out. We just need to be patient.”
Growing UP Books by Suzanne Rudd 