1967 Algoma Summer July 31, Trip Four Mackinaw Island and the Grand Hotel

1967 Algoma Summer July 31, Trip Four

Mackinaw Island and the Grand Hotel

Today was to Michelemackinac, the great turtle God of the Ottawa’s.

    The Grand Hotel- suite of green carpeted lawn -flowers in opulence- fountains- wild canaries-the weathered boardwalk along the lake- Mary's fudge- the blue red geranium bordered pool-tangled pilings on the old docs- the red coated lackeys- the opulent rich grand Hotel desks- the fun of analyzing people- two men not too attractive but successful looking with a bevy of bikini clad beauties. We put them in the category of theatrical producers.

    The beautifully dressed boy about 13, tailored Bermuda’s, silken sport shirt, all by himself on a chair under a tree, looking longingly as the groups of children his own age cavorted in the pool. We saw him later alone, walking up the stairs to the Grand Hotel, sort of dragging his feet. “Poor little rich boy” I said, and on second thought, looking over the plush surroundings he could be the gardeners son.

    The children got so hungry and we wouldn't let them bring our battered gear out of the dressing rooms and onto the lawn, not to mingle with the sophisticated grand hotel guests. Our duffel consisted of a faded blue boy’s camp duffel bag, and an old YMCA-tote bag-with a broken zipper. So Catherine the ingenious one, who had the loan of Patrick's treasured golf hat for the week (he is in Toronto playing in the junior tournament), put it to good use. She made several trips to the dressing room and returned with her hat full of cookies for the herd to eat.

    The dressing rooms themselves were nostalgic. Wood, not a crumble of Terrazzo, painted wood, gray and white and yellow, a big old oval mirror that did not smack of powder room, a shower where you had to pull a cord, and a terrible moment, because the pulling of the cords spilled freezing water in a gush on the person below. The hand cranked wringer for wet bathing suits, and over it all, an air with the elegance of another era “Edwardian” and lush plush.

    After 6 PM ties and coats will be worn by guests. The lookout at the Grand, overlooking the cultivated lawn and gardens and out over high tailored cedar hedges to the Straits, “Bois Blanc Island” in the distance, and the “Mighty Mac Bridge” which joins lower and upper Michigan.

    Mary in the outdoor “comfort station” comes back with a dime in her hand. “First time I've ever got a dime for using one of these!”

     Me in the same station and an imperative knock on the door while I am in- sight of blue pants through the crack (it closed with a hook).

“Go over to the other side you are in the wrong one!” I said.

“Am I?” said a haughty unknown voice.

 I go out sheepishly apologizing to an aristocratic middle aged blond.

“I’m sorry I thought you were my son!”

An icy stare “REALLY?”

    Jimmy on the bucking horse he told the man he could ride, then mounted from the wrong side and put the steed in a bad mood. He bucked when urged forward!

    The spaghetti we ordered in the “Pickle Bucket” forgetting that Mackinaw spaghetti would be daintier than the Sault Italian spaghetti.

    The tandem bicycles with the small basket at the back for babies.

    Sending Jimmy for fifty cents worth of fudge to bring home to Granny and having him come back looking quite stricken “It was the smallest box one dollar and ninety five cents!”

    Tourists it was fun being one, carefree, informal and relaxed. Peace going through to my bones and feeling so relaxed lying on my stomach on the chaise lounge, that I felt that it was actually holding me up easily instead of the usual tenseness lying on it, holding it down.

    The women we diagnosed as holidaying school Ma’am’s although most of them don’t holiday much anymore, they take courses to improve their standing, instead of taking holidays to improve their outlook on life.

    The tarp flapping on top of the station wagon and finally flapping a rope off.

    Jim McIntyre the highly organized losing his return ferry ticket. All the people have their tickets and this pin head hasn’t.

    Talking about Jim’s PEI forbearers.  Uncle Dave who once removed his abscessed tooth by pulling a nail out of the barn door, bending it, and putting the head end under said tooth, and tearing it out. No antisepsis and no infection either.

    Uncle Phonse,who took up insurance selling at 70, and won the top award for the sales in the Maritimes. Prize was an all-expense paid trip to the Sales Conference in Toronto, his first trop off the island in his life. He didn’t think much of the big city or the big city sales analysts who were theorizing on sales.

    Talk swung to simple things in life and the toughness of the other generations as illustrated by Uncle Dave. Mentioned my mother who had her tonsils out on her noon hour, walked home afterward and took the afternoon off work because he felt a “little weak”,  but back on the job the next day.

    What is the highlight of your day Jimmy?  “That horse!  I am going to sleep on my stomach tonight”. Not me, after a day like today I will sleep like a baby!

    Line up of yellow, horse drawn sight-seeing carriages on Main Street. House that was built in 1887 by Vanderbilt, a house on the way down past the golf course was the home of Blackhouse Astor, who lived here in the 1800s.

    Sketches in the Grand Hotel of a ship, by J McDonald McIntyre, cookbook called the Historical Mackinac Cookbook. The lobby, polished mahogany and red deep piled carpets, the red carpet on the entrance steps being vacuumed.

    Langlade Street, Charles Langlade founder of Wisconsin.

We didn’t get up to the fort, that is for another day, and I am going to practice my bicycle riding in preparation for the “Grand Tour” as this was only an introduction, but a wonderful one.

    ‘I think we must have the only one piece bathing suits on Mackinac!” looking woefully at our two year old striped and flowered beauties, end of the season bargains.

    Mary Anne “Other people tan and I get freckles!”

 “When you get enough freckles that will be a tan!”

    Catherine “ Can I wear Patrick’s hat into the pool? It is so choice!”

    I am coming dripping from the pool. I am going to get dressed. I am going to go up to the hotel, and buy a cigar, and am going to read “ The Detroit News”,  sip a cold beer at the table overlooking the putting green, like the other VIP’S, the three of them, golf bags over their shoulders.  

   The ferry benches in the hold, the lovely approach, the whistle, the camera fans, the lighthouse, on the speaker “This is authentic history no gimmicks on Mackinac Island”.