Stagecoach Mary by Tanya Landman

One of the great pleasures of researching a book like Buffalo Soldier is coming across the real-life stories of extraordinary people. They don’t get much more extraordinary than Mary Fields.

This  powerhouse of a woman - six feet tall, cigar smoking, whiskey drinking, gun toting, hot tempered –was the first African-American woman to work for the US Postal Service.

Born a slave in Tennessee in around 1832,  Mary was freed after the 13^thAmendment was passed in 1865. In a world turned upside down by war her problem then was what to do, where to go, how to live?

Not a great deal is known about how she fared in the years immediately following the American Civil War but by 1870 she’d found work emptying chamber pots on a Mississippi steamboat. It may have been there that she met Judge Edmund Dunne whose family later took her on as a servant.

When Dunne’s wife died, Mary was given the task of taking his five children to Ohio to be cared for by their aunt – an Ursuline nun called Sister Amadeus.

For the next few years Mary Fields stayed with the Ursuline Sisters tending the gardens and grounds.

Sister Amadeus and Mary became close friends but in  1884 the nun was promoted to Mother Superior and selected to go to Montana to set up a mission and boarding school for Native American children.

Conditions in Montana then were primitive and in 1885 Mother Amadeus contracted pneumonia.  When the news reached Mary Fields she set out at once to nurse her friend back to health.

For the next eight years Mary helped with the building of the mission 19 miles from the town of Cascade.  Besides the construction work she also did the laundry, tended the gardens, looked after the chickens and drove the wagon that brought food and supplies to the mission.

Mary’s temper often got her into altercations and after a duel with a hired hand word of her unorthodox behavior reached the Bishop. He declared a mission school was no place for a shoot out and insisted she leave.

With the help of Mother Amadeus Mary moved to Cascade and set up a restaurant.  But Mary’s heart was a big as her temper was hot.  She’d feed anyone who was hungry – whether or not they could afford to pay.  She went bust.

But at sixty four Mary could harness a team of horses quicker than any man and so she got a job as a driver for the US mail. Sitting on top of the stagecoach, a jug of whisky at her feet, a pistol in her apron pocket, a shotgun by her side, wreathed in clouds of cigar smoke she must have made an impressive sight.

For eight years she carried the mail on a 19 mile route, never missing a day’s work.

In 1903 Mother Amadeus left Montana to carry out missionary work in Alaska.  By then Mary was too old to accompany her, and indeed too old to continue carrying the mail. She stopped driving the stagecoach  when she was around 70 but continued to work, running a laundry service from her home.

By then she’d become something of a local legend.  The Cascade Hotel provided meals for her free of charge. When her home was burned down in 1912 the townspeople rallied round to rebuild it for her. Stagecoach Mary was the only woman permitted to drink in the town’s saloons.

When her health began to fail the fiercely independent Mary left her house and lay down in a field on a freezing night, waiting for death. She was found and taken to the hospital where, on December 5^th 1914,  she died.

The whole town mourned her.  The service was held in the Pastime Theatre and was one of the largest Cascade had ever seen.

In 1959 Hollywood legend Gary Cooper – who’d met her as a child – wrote of her,  “Born a slave… Mary lived to become of the freest souls ever to draw breath, or a .38.”

Magna Carta: Law, Liberty, Legacy by Tanya Landman

For anyone who’s even vaguely interested in history or politics Magna Carta: Law, Liberty, Legacy is a fascinating exhibition. For a historical novelist, it’s an inspiration.

http://www.bl.uk/events/magna-carta--law-liberty-legacy

I’d heard about it on the radio and was itching to see it, so when Mary Hoffman passed on an invitation for a History Girl to attend a private view I grabbed it. Travelling up to London I was ridiculously excited. There’s something magical about seeing historical documents and artefacts in the flesh – no reproduction, however good can convey the thrill of the real thing. And this was the Magna Carta. THE MAGNA CARTA!!! I’d been taught about it in Primary School. Bad King John who ‘shamed the throne that he sat on.’ King versus barons, democracy versus tyranny. The triumph of the People’s rights, cornerstone of the British constitution.




And yet, of the 63 original clauses, only three remain on the statute book today. One defends the freedom of the English church, another the liberties of London and other towns. The third is the most famous –
No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled, or deprived of his standing in any other way, nor will we proceed with force against him, or send others to do so, except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land.
To no one will we sell, to no one deny or delay right or justice.
In Medieval England ‘free men’ were actually an elite minority but that concept of universal justice was hugely powerful and has inspired lawyers, politicians and activists (including Nelson Mandela) ever since. Chief Justice Lord Bingham wrote, “the significance of Magna Carta lay not only in what it actually said, but in what later generations claimed and believed it had said.”

Curators Julian Harrison and Claire Breay and researcher Alex Lock are to be congratulated on creating a narrative that leads us from the granting of the charter in 1215 right up to the present day.
There are excellent reviews that give an overview of the exhibition here

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/11459576/Magna-Carta-Law-Liberty-Legacy-British-Library-review-rich-and-authoritative.html

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/mar/12/magna-carta-exhibition-lessons-modern-politics-peoples-rights


However, I’m coming at it from a different angle and taking an author’s eye view.

At every school or library visit I can guarantee someone will ask, “Where do you get your ideas from?” I reply that I’m like a magpie, constantly on the lookout for bright little nuggets of information. And then there are the holes in history, the gaps that can be filled with ‘what-ifs?’ and ‘maybes...’ and ‘just supposes..?’ In Magna Carta: Law, Liberty, Legacy there’s material to fill several volumes. I’ll concentrate on just three that sparked off novel ideas.








First of all was a striking statue of one of the barons - Geoffrey FitzGeoffrey de Mandeville. A small label states that he was deeply in debt to King John after paying £13,333 for the right to marry the monarch’s first wife.

My brain started ticking right away. Geoffrey married the king’s ex-wife? King and queen were divorced? Why? How? What happened? I was so intrigued that I looked her up as soon as I got home.

It was Henry II who arranged the betrothal between Isabel (or Isabella) of Gloucester and his son John, but only after Henry had disinherited Isabel’s two sisters and declared she was sole heir to Gloucester. The couple were married, but as they were distant cousins the Archbishop of Canterbury declared the marriage null and void. The Pope granted a dispensation but banned them from having sexual relations.

When John came to the throne in 1199 he almost immediately obtained an annulment of the marriage. He did, however, keep Isabel’s land and property and retained the feudal right to decide who his former wife could marry. He demanded an extortionate price for her hand yet Geoffrey FitzGeoffrey was willing to pay it.

A woman cast aside by her first husband, her second husband so deeply in in debt that his land was in danger of being seized by the crown, the king – her cousin - loathed by his subjects…there’s plenty of material in Isabel’s story.

Matthew Paris, a 13th century chronicler said King John ‘was a tyrant. He was a wicked ruler who did not behave like a king. He was greedy and took as much money as he could from his people. Hell is too good for a horrible person like him.’

King John died (probably of dysentery) in 1216. But even then people were saying ‘what if?’ and ‘just suppose…’ Rumour had it that he’d been poisoned. There’s a thriller here just begging to be written…

As someone with an interest in American history the second thing that had me enthralled was the draft Declaration of Independence. Jefferson calmly and neatly lays out a set of charges against the tyrant George III but his language becomes inflamed and his handwriting briefly explodes into furious block capitals when writing about slavery -

He has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating and carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation hither. This piratical warfare, the opprobrium of infidel powers, is the warfare of the Christian king of Great Britain. Determined to keep open a market where MEN should be bought and sold, he has prostituted his negative for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or to restrain this execrable commerce…

Thomas Jefferson was a slave owner himself, so there’s an element of hypocrisy here. This particular passage was struck out of the finished declaration, but what if it hadn’t been? Just suppose Jefferson’s original draft had carried the day? Maybe things could have been different. How would the USA look now if they had been?

My third and possibly my favourite part of the exhibition - simply because it seems to say so much about human frailty and man’s capacity for blundering blindly towards disaster - was the copy of the Magna Carta that was damaged by fire in 1731 and then ‘restored’ in 1836 by Mr Hogarth.

Mr Hogarth had been regularly employed as a book binder when Josiah Forshall requested permission from the British Museum Trustees to conserve the document.

It seems that Mr Hogarth first flattened the precious manuscript with a heavy weight, then soaked it in water and glued it to a backing sheet. Using blotting paper to dry the parchment he lifted off much of the ink. It was a total catastrophe, yet the Trustees report declared the work to be ‘satisfactory’.

This incident really fuels the imagination. Was Mr Hogarth full of gleeful enthusiasm and oblivious to the disaster he’d wreaked? Was it an Only Fools and Horses chandelier moment? Did he have to make his excuses and run for it?

As for the Trustees - I can’t help imagining their expressions when they saw what he’d done. Tight lipped, ashen-faced, declaring it ‘satisfactory’ and then burying it deep in the basement in the hope that no one would ever find it?

There’s definitely a book there. Mr Hogarth’s Bad Day perhaps, or Mr Hogarth Messes Up?



Magna Carta: Law, Liberty, Legacy runs at the British Library until 1st September 2015. Go see it.

Lt.Henry O.Flipper by Tanya Landman

On 19^th February 1999 President Clinton officially pardoned Lt. Henry O.Flipper in a ceremony at the White House.

I hadn’t heard of Henry Flipper until I started researching Buffalo Soldier.  Here’s an extract from the President’s speech.

“The man we honor today was an extraordinary American. Henry Flipper did all his country asked him to do. Though born a slave in Georgia, he was proud to serve America: the first African American graduate of West Point; the first African American commissioned officer in the regular United States Army. He showed brilliant promise and joined the 10th Cavalry. While stationed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, he perfected a drainage system that eliminated the stagnant water, and malaria, plaguing the fort. Still known as "Flipper's Ditch," it became a national landmark in 1977. He distinguished himself in combat on the frontier, and then was transferred to run a commissary at Fort Davis in Texas.

In 1881, Lt. Flipper was accused by his commanding officer of improperly accounting for the funds entrusted to him. A later Army review suggested he had been singled out for his race, but at the time there wasn't much justice available for a young African American soldier. In December, a court-martial acquitted him of embezzlement, but convicted him of conduct unbecoming an officer. President Chester A. Arthur declined to overturn the sentence, and in June of 1882, Lt. Flipper was dishonorably discharged.

His life continued. He became a civil and mining engineer out West. He worked in many capacities for the government, as special agent for the Department of Justice; as an expert on Mexico for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee; as a special assistant to the Secretary of the Interior. He died in 1940, at the age of 84. But even after his death, this stain of dishonor remained. One hundred and seventeen years have now elapsed since his discharge. That's a long time, even more than the span of his long life. More than half the history of the White House, indeed, of the United States itself. And too long to let an injustice lie uncorrected.

The army exonerated him in 1976, changed his discharge to honorable and reburied him with full honors. But one thing remained to be done, and now it will be. With great pleasure and humility, I now offer a full pardon to Lt. Henry Ossian Flipper of the United States Army. This good man now has completely recovered his good name. It has been a trying thing for the family to fight this long battle, to confront delays and bureaucratic indifference, but this is a day of affirmation. It teaches us that, although the wheels of justice turn slowly at times, still they turn. It teaches that time can heal old wounds and redemption comes to those who persist in a righteous cause. Most of all, it teaches us -- Lt. Flipper's family teaches us -- that we must never give up the fight to make our country live up to its highest ideals. Outside of this room Henry Flipper is not known to most Americans. All the more reason to remember him today. His remarkable life story is important to us, terribly important, as we continue to work -- on the edge of a new century and a new millennium -- on deepening the meaning of freedom at home, and working to expand democracy and freedom around the world, to give new life to the great experiment begun in 1776. This is work Henry Flipper would have been proud of. Each of you who worked so hard for this day is a living chapter in the story of Lt. Flipper. I thank you for your devotion, your courage, your persistence, your unshakable commitment. I thank you for believing, and proving, that challenges never disappear, but in the long run, freedom comes to those who persevere.”

Hearing Voices by Tanya Landman

I’ve always been fascinated by different accents and verbal mannerisms.  I find them so interesting that on occasion I slip into mimicking the person I’m talking to in an attempt to literally capture their voice in my head.  Before I can stop myself, I find I’m turning a Kiwi or a Texan;  a Scouser or a Glaswegian. (It’s amazing I’ve never been thumped!)

I love writing in the first person - for me, it’s the best way of climbing inside the story - so getting a character’s sound right in my head is essential.  

Hearing voices all started with 100% Pig(A&C Black).  It wasn’t the first book I wrote, but it was the first one to appear in print.  I’d already decided the hero was a Tamworth pig on the run from the sausage factory.  My plot was sorted. But how to tell it?  How did he speak?

The answer came in the middle of the night.  Terence – a custard swilling egomaniac with a fine Australian accent – rootled his way into my dreams and started talking about his impeccable pedigree.

Once I had his Aussie accent, there was no stopping him.  I wrote the first draft in a matter of hours, talking ‘Australian’ out loud as I typed so I could capture Terence’s voice.

(I should point out that I’ve never been to Australia.  I learned the accent off the TV as a student, watching The Young Doctors when I should have been writing essays.  Which just goes to prove that, in the life of a writer, nothing is ever wasted!)

As well as comic and adventure books for 8 – 11 year olds  I write serious historical fiction for Young Adults.  Obviously voice is no less important, but with these books it is much more complex. 

With Apache I was writing in the voice of a girl for whom English was not her native language.  While I was researching, reading the first person accounts of Native Americans who had lived through terrible times, I was struck by their eloquence.  Their rhetoric had a grace and dignity - a kind of Shakespearean quality that I tried hard to capture.  The same was true of The Goldsmith’s Daughter:  the Aztec accounts of the conquest have a beauty and power that I wanted to mimic.

I could hear both girls’ voices in my head all the time I was writing, but speaking their words out loud was a different matter. The Goldsmith’s Daughter was nominated for the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize and at very short notice I had to dash to Hay on Wye for an appearance at the festival. I was delighted until I was asked to read an extract from the book. Looking at the page I realised that not only did I not really know how to pronounce the Aztec names properly, but that the voice I had in my head was a world away from the south-east accent that comes out of my mouth! I was tempted to keep the reading very brief but I discovered that actually my own accent didn’t matter:  people could hear Itacate’s voice through mine.

 As for Charley O’Hara and Buffalo Soldier:  her rich, warm speech flowed inside my head like molasses while she told her story.  (Think of comedian Reginald D.Hunter’s accent  and you’ll more or less have it.)  Listening to it while I was writing was the most wonderful experience.  I hope reading it is the same.

YA - A Double Edged Sword? by Tanya Landman

Long ago, way back in the golden olden days when the world was full of lovely independent bookshops and I worked in one of them there was no Young Adult section.  So how did people manage? 

Well, they browsed.  And if a customer was buying a book for someone else and they weren’t certain if the content was suitable they could ask the bookseller for advice because in those days knowing the stock was considered to be part of the job.

There are still excellent independents out there but as we all know the numbers are dwindling and times are tough.  Bit by bit all that in-depth knowledge and expertise is being replaced by computers, labels and branding.

When I started writing it was for KS 1 and 2 and  I was put in the children’s section.  So far, so straightforward.  But then Apache came out: my ‘breakthrough’ novel.  It was a big moment.

I was delighted to be part of the YA brand:  it comprised the most brilliant, creative,  exciting writing that was being produced.  I was rubbing shoulders with my literary heroes – what was not to love?

On my first visit to a secondary school I was asked why I’d called the book Apache.  The student pronounced it “Apaitch.”   I was a little perplexed.  When I asked the audience if anyone knew what an Apache was hands went up all around the room.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  Then they all said an Apache was a  “helicopter”.

It came as a shock to realise that teens hadn’t been raised on the relentless diet of wall-to-wall westerns that I had.  No problem – it didn’t affect their enjoyment or enthusiasm for the book – but I realised that Apache had an extra resonance for adults.  The teachers and librarians who read the book really ‘got’ it.  But they were adults who were ‘in the know’.  How could I get it into the hands of general readers? 

With Buffalo Soldier I’ve got the same problem.  It’s accessible to teens, but I’d love adults to read it too.   And why wouldn’t they?  Well, because it’s a YA book.

 

Over the years I’ve given various books  (by various writers) to friends who have looked both puzzled and offended when they realised I was handing them a “kids’ book”. They considered reading YA would be dumbing down; an insult to their intelligence.   There are thousands of potential readers who are missing out because they have a mental block about the YA label.

A couple of months ago I had one of those in-between times, when I was waiting for a manuscript to come back from the editor. Instead of writing the synopsis I was supposed to be working on I went on Facebook (as you do) and asked a few questions.  And the warm, witty writing community came back with some wonderful answers. My apologies for reducing what were interesting and sometimes hilarious exchanges into this rather more banal summary:

1) When is a YA novel not a YA novel? There are the very obvious 'teen reads', but what about books marketed to teens that deserve a wider adult readership too? I'm thinking Mal Peet in the first instance. More examples, anyone?

Lots of names were put forward including Aidan Chambers, Celia Rees, Patrick Ness, Meg Rosoff. What was interesting was the amount of comments that came in alongside the suggestions: someone reported an adult who was embarrassed to be ‘caught’ reading The Book Thief because it was marketed for teens, for example.

We all agreed the YA brand is simply a marketing device and something that makes life easier for bookshops, but inventing a label to attract certain readers will inevitably put others off.

2) Which of the classics would get classified as a YA read if they were published today?

Sometimes books get labeled YA simply because they have a teen or child protagonist.  Again, lots of titles suggested – Great Expectations, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, To Kill a Mockingbird, Bonjour Tristesse, The Dud Avocado and all of Walter Scott’s 27 novels.

3) Are there any books out there that ONLY teens will enjoy?

Plenty of suggestions here too including Catcher in the Rye (“insufferably irritating”), Wuthering Heights (“barking mad”) and Twilight(“I died a little at each page I read”).  However, many of us know (and some of us weep over the fact) that there are grown, sensible adults out there who love the Twilight saga, so it seems the answer to my question is no.

What conclusions can be drawn from all this?   That a book is a book is a book.  Writing something that’s accessible to teens shouldn’t exclude an adult readership.  Yet “most adults won’t touch teen no matter how good it is” as one contributor to the discussion remarked. 

Love it or loathe it the YA brand is here to stay, so how do we get past the prejudice some adult readers have?  No idea, sorry.  I don’t have answers to this – just plenty of questions.