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Tracing F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Minnesota Roots Tracing F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Minnesota Roots
(10 days later)
Before the bootlegged gin of the Jazz Age and wasted days in Paris, before “The Great Gatsby,” lavish parties in Manhattan hotels and Long Island houses, failure in Hollywood and his death of a heart attack at 44, F. Scott Fitzgerald was a kid in the Midwest. Although you catch only glimpses and mentions of it in his stories and novels — usually as the part of the world many of his characters leave for more luxurious destinations — all you have to do is see the Cathedral Hill neighborhood of St. Paul, where he grew up, to begin to understand Fitzgerald.Before the bootlegged gin of the Jazz Age and wasted days in Paris, before “The Great Gatsby,” lavish parties in Manhattan hotels and Long Island houses, failure in Hollywood and his death of a heart attack at 44, F. Scott Fitzgerald was a kid in the Midwest. Although you catch only glimpses and mentions of it in his stories and novels — usually as the part of the world many of his characters leave for more luxurious destinations — all you have to do is see the Cathedral Hill neighborhood of St. Paul, where he grew up, to begin to understand Fitzgerald.
Like Amory Blaine in “This Side of Paradise,” Nick Carraway in “Gatsby,” and a handful of the writer’s most recognizable characters, Fitzgerald grew up less well-off than his neighbors in a wealthy part of town. The difference in economic backgrounds was noticeable, and walking around his section of St. Paul, as I did on a recent visit, you can see where some of the writer’s ideas about class and comfort came from, but also his place in the world.Like Amory Blaine in “This Side of Paradise,” Nick Carraway in “Gatsby,” and a handful of the writer’s most recognizable characters, Fitzgerald grew up less well-off than his neighbors in a wealthy part of town. The difference in economic backgrounds was noticeable, and walking around his section of St. Paul, as I did on a recent visit, you can see where some of the writer’s ideas about class and comfort came from, but also his place in the world.
While some hear Fitzgerald’s name and automatically think of some wealthy Long Island village by the water or drinks with Ernest Hemingway and other American expats in France after World War I, his time in his half of the Twin Cities formed him and informed him. He was born in St. Paul, moved back there at age 8 after his father lost his job in upstate New York, had his first story published in a magazine as a teenager attending St. Paul Academy in St. Paul and finished his first novel after once again going back to the city to try to dry out at 22. He stayed there until, finally, in 1922, Scott, Zelda and their daughter, Scottie, left for good. The big cities called, and his hometown was just a memory, yet he kept going back there for his stories even if he didn’t set them there. Fitzgerald left St. Paul many times, but St. Paul never left him.While some hear Fitzgerald’s name and automatically think of some wealthy Long Island village by the water or drinks with Ernest Hemingway and other American expats in France after World War I, his time in his half of the Twin Cities formed him and informed him. He was born in St. Paul, moved back there at age 8 after his father lost his job in upstate New York, had his first story published in a magazine as a teenager attending St. Paul Academy in St. Paul and finished his first novel after once again going back to the city to try to dry out at 22. He stayed there until, finally, in 1922, Scott, Zelda and their daughter, Scottie, left for good. The big cities called, and his hometown was just a memory, yet he kept going back there for his stories even if he didn’t set them there. Fitzgerald left St. Paul many times, but St. Paul never left him.
By no means modest, the St. Paul homes that bear plaques stating that the city’s favorite son once lived there would make any passer-by stop and look. There are the two different Laurel Avenue rowhouses — 481, where he was born, and 294, his grandparents’ home, where Scott and his family lived after returning from Buffalo — but the F. Scott Fitzgerald House, a National Historic Landmark at 599 Summit Avenue, is the real gem. The “New York Style” brownstone where Fitzgerald wrote his first novel looks as if it is a small part of a larger castle, but, compared with most of the other homes up and down Summit Avenue, it seems tiny and almost quaint. As the barista at the downtown Starbucks said to me, “I think it’s the longest stretch of Victorian mansions in the whole country.” He is right, and in those houses lived people who owned paper and lumber companies, as well as other big shots of the Gilded Age.By no means modest, the St. Paul homes that bear plaques stating that the city’s favorite son once lived there would make any passer-by stop and look. There are the two different Laurel Avenue rowhouses — 481, where he was born, and 294, his grandparents’ home, where Scott and his family lived after returning from Buffalo — but the F. Scott Fitzgerald House, a National Historic Landmark at 599 Summit Avenue, is the real gem. The “New York Style” brownstone where Fitzgerald wrote his first novel looks as if it is a small part of a larger castle, but, compared with most of the other homes up and down Summit Avenue, it seems tiny and almost quaint. As the barista at the downtown Starbucks said to me, “I think it’s the longest stretch of Victorian mansions in the whole country.” He is right, and in those houses lived people who owned paper and lumber companies, as well as other big shots of the Gilded Age.
Those ideas and feelings are manifest in the superb short story “Winter Dreams,” which serves not only as a proto-Gatsby — a semi-autobiographical tale of a St. Paul boy who grows into a man obsessed with the rich and beautiful Judy Jones — but also is the closest we get to understanding Fitzgerald’s relationship with his hometown through his fiction. “This story is not biography, remember,” the narrator tells us toward the end, but concedes, “although things creep into it which have nothing to do with those dreams he had when he was young.” Other odes to the region are sprinkled throughout Fitzgerald’s work, most notably Carraway’s famous paragraph in “Gatsby” where he talks about his “Middle West.” But reading “Winter Dreams,” one can sense that, just like its protagonist, Fitzgerald was going to leave St. Paul behind, but that he would probably never be happier anywhere else.Those ideas and feelings are manifest in the superb short story “Winter Dreams,” which serves not only as a proto-Gatsby — a semi-autobiographical tale of a St. Paul boy who grows into a man obsessed with the rich and beautiful Judy Jones — but also is the closest we get to understanding Fitzgerald’s relationship with his hometown through his fiction. “This story is not biography, remember,” the narrator tells us toward the end, but concedes, “although things creep into it which have nothing to do with those dreams he had when he was young.” Other odes to the region are sprinkled throughout Fitzgerald’s work, most notably Carraway’s famous paragraph in “Gatsby” where he talks about his “Middle West.” But reading “Winter Dreams,” one can sense that, just like its protagonist, Fitzgerald was going to leave St. Paul behind, but that he would probably never be happier anywhere else.
Elsewhere on Summit Avenue is the University Club (called the U Club by locals), where Scott and Zelda would drink and dance with the moneyed residents after Fitzgerald’s success with his first novel, “This Side of Paradise.” Still a members-only club, it was designed by Reed & Stem, one of the two firms behind Grand Central Terminal in New York, and sits above a bluff with a panoramic view of St. Paul around the High Bridge over the Mississippi, but doesn’t really use its Fitzgerald past as a huge selling point. There are no large pictures of him on the walls or “F. Scott Fitzgerald drank here” signs, though the club does play a role in “Winter Dreams,” where its protagonist and his obsession run into each other before he announces his engagement to another woman. A few other establishments, on the other hand, love to let you know you’re standing where the great writer once stood, and perhaps slept or even wrote one of his books.Elsewhere on Summit Avenue is the University Club (called the U Club by locals), where Scott and Zelda would drink and dance with the moneyed residents after Fitzgerald’s success with his first novel, “This Side of Paradise.” Still a members-only club, it was designed by Reed & Stem, one of the two firms behind Grand Central Terminal in New York, and sits above a bluff with a panoramic view of St. Paul around the High Bridge over the Mississippi, but doesn’t really use its Fitzgerald past as a huge selling point. There are no large pictures of him on the walls or “F. Scott Fitzgerald drank here” signs, though the club does play a role in “Winter Dreams,” where its protagonist and his obsession run into each other before he announces his engagement to another woman. A few other establishments, on the other hand, love to let you know you’re standing where the great writer once stood, and perhaps slept or even wrote one of his books.
“Have you heard the story about the time he came back for winter break from college and got kicked out of the church up the street?” the bartender at the Commodore asked me as she prepared for another big night at the recently reopened bar. “I guess he was a little drunk, and they had to ask him to leave.” She was working fast because the staff was down a bartender, so as she readied her station, Anthony Davis, the assistant general manager, jumped in to slice lemons and limes.“Have you heard the story about the time he came back for winter break from college and got kicked out of the church up the street?” the bartender at the Commodore asked me as she prepared for another big night at the recently reopened bar. “I guess he was a little drunk, and they had to ask him to leave.” She was working fast because the staff was down a bartender, so as she readied her station, Anthony Davis, the assistant general manager, jumped in to slice lemons and limes.
He worked fast, making eye contact as he sliced. He told me about the history of the building, once a hotel where Scott and Zelda lived until the birth of their daughter in 1921. The newly renovated bar sits below what are now apartment units, but the bar itself, a former speakeasy when the Fitzgeralds lived there during Prohibition, is the centerpiece. When you walk up to the building, even the signs asking you not to let your dog use the grass as a bathroom are in the same Art Deco font that you see on the famous “Gatsby” cover by Francis Cugat. The drinks on the menu, featuring cocktails made before and during the nationwide ban on alcohol, are almost “85 to 90 percent” made with spirits “from within a bootlegger’s distance,” Mr. Davis said.He worked fast, making eye contact as he sliced. He told me about the history of the building, once a hotel where Scott and Zelda lived until the birth of their daughter in 1921. The newly renovated bar sits below what are now apartment units, but the bar itself, a former speakeasy when the Fitzgeralds lived there during Prohibition, is the centerpiece. When you walk up to the building, even the signs asking you not to let your dog use the grass as a bathroom are in the same Art Deco font that you see on the famous “Gatsby” cover by Francis Cugat. The drinks on the menu, featuring cocktails made before and during the nationwide ban on alcohol, are almost “85 to 90 percent” made with spirits “from within a bootlegger’s distance,” Mr. Davis said.
A time-tested classic that somehow survived a 1978 natural gas explosion that destroyed almost everything in the space and injured dozens, the bar itself lacks stools but has an old brass rail across the front for patrons loaded on gin and tonics to hold on to. Mr. Davis kicked the bar. “See that,” he said. “It’s got all that weathering.” He mentions that besides the Fitzgeralds, Hemingway drank there (although he couldn’t confirm if it was with his friend and rival Fitzgerald), as did Al Capone, Ma Barker and nearly every other gangster who has entered American folklore. A Jazz Age hot spot in a city not exactly known for its jazz or wild parties, the bar stayed open after Prohibition was repealed in 1933, but fell out of fashion, along with the entire neighborhood. The great houses emptied out as people moved to the suburbs. Today, the newly remodeled Commodore is a tribute to a former glory that seems to be returning to the neighborhood.A time-tested classic that somehow survived a 1978 natural gas explosion that destroyed almost everything in the space and injured dozens, the bar itself lacks stools but has an old brass rail across the front for patrons loaded on gin and tonics to hold on to. Mr. Davis kicked the bar. “See that,” he said. “It’s got all that weathering.” He mentions that besides the Fitzgeralds, Hemingway drank there (although he couldn’t confirm if it was with his friend and rival Fitzgerald), as did Al Capone, Ma Barker and nearly every other gangster who has entered American folklore. A Jazz Age hot spot in a city not exactly known for its jazz or wild parties, the bar stayed open after Prohibition was repealed in 1933, but fell out of fashion, along with the entire neighborhood. The great houses emptied out as people moved to the suburbs. Today, the newly remodeled Commodore is a tribute to a former glory that seems to be returning to the neighborhood.
The splendor the area once had, while not the bright lights and tall buildings of Manhattan or the movable feast of Paris, must have been attractive to Fitzgerald. There was still danger, and undesirables: bootleggers coming down from Canada and hiding their barrels. St. Paul had a pulse, and he was familiar with it. (And his parents still lived there.)The splendor the area once had, while not the bright lights and tall buildings of Manhattan or the movable feast of Paris, must have been attractive to Fitzgerald. There was still danger, and undesirables: bootleggers coming down from Canada and hiding their barrels. St. Paul had a pulse, and he was familiar with it. (And his parents still lived there.)
“That coffee shop across the street,” said Matt Sutton, the senior manager at W. A. Frost and Company, a bar and restaurant a few blocks away from the Commodore that looks as if it hasn’t been changed much since the late 1970s (in the best way possible). “That used to be a brothel when Fitzgerald lived here. The tunnels went under there, to under here, to the church, to the river,” providing a route for bootleggers. The tunnels are mostly sealed off now, although the basement of the bar was part of the tunnels. I made my way down the stairs and found a cozy, chilly, dimly lit and somewhat spooky space, where one can drink wine or whiskey, legally now, around a fireplace.“That coffee shop across the street,” said Matt Sutton, the senior manager at W. A. Frost and Company, a bar and restaurant a few blocks away from the Commodore that looks as if it hasn’t been changed much since the late 1970s (in the best way possible). “That used to be a brothel when Fitzgerald lived here. The tunnels went under there, to under here, to the church, to the river,” providing a route for bootleggers. The tunnels are mostly sealed off now, although the basement of the bar was part of the tunnels. I made my way down the stairs and found a cozy, chilly, dimly lit and somewhat spooky space, where one can drink wine or whiskey, legally now, around a fireplace.
Coincidentally, the building W. A. Frost and Company occupies is where the pharmacy of William A. Frost was located at the turn of the century, and will probably get a mention from any local Fitzgerald tours if you pass by. It’s where Fitzgerald used to get his cigarettes, the bartender told me.Coincidentally, the building W. A. Frost and Company occupies is where the pharmacy of William A. Frost was located at the turn of the century, and will probably get a mention from any local Fitzgerald tours if you pass by. It’s where Fitzgerald used to get his cigarettes, the bartender told me.
The citizens of St. Paul are aware of Fitzgerald’s presence, and celebrate him in ways a city might any native cultural celebrity. There is the Fitzgerald Theater, with a huge picture of the writer staring down from a sign above its marquee, and a statue of him in Rice Park with a plaque that reads, “In honor of a young man who became a writer in this city.” But you don’t see Fitzgerald knickknacks being sold everywhere, and the stores don’t sell bobblehead dolls or shot glasses. Perhaps that’s because he ran away from home and tried not to look back, associating himself with big cities to the east or in Europe; his characters from the middle of the country have either escaped or are in the process of doing so.The citizens of St. Paul are aware of Fitzgerald’s presence, and celebrate him in ways a city might any native cultural celebrity. There is the Fitzgerald Theater, with a huge picture of the writer staring down from a sign above its marquee, and a statue of him in Rice Park with a plaque that reads, “In honor of a young man who became a writer in this city.” But you don’t see Fitzgerald knickknacks being sold everywhere, and the stores don’t sell bobblehead dolls or shot glasses. Perhaps that’s because he ran away from home and tried not to look back, associating himself with big cities to the east or in Europe; his characters from the middle of the country have either escaped or are in the process of doing so.
Driving around just looking at the Summit Hill area houses, I wonder what finally drove Fitzgerald to leave, considering he did some of his best work in and around St. Paul. He wrote “The Beautiful and Damned” in the yellow Victorian home with the wide porch on Goodrich Avenue and took strolls along White Bear Lake, about 10 miles to the north, in his mid-20s, newly married and having just published his first book — it was the place where he was inspired to set and write “Winter Dreams.” Minnesota, it seemed, was good to him.Driving around just looking at the Summit Hill area houses, I wonder what finally drove Fitzgerald to leave, considering he did some of his best work in and around St. Paul. He wrote “The Beautiful and Damned” in the yellow Victorian home with the wide porch on Goodrich Avenue and took strolls along White Bear Lake, about 10 miles to the north, in his mid-20s, newly married and having just published his first book — it was the place where he was inspired to set and write “Winter Dreams.” Minnesota, it seemed, was good to him.
“Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of illusion, of youth, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished,” Fitzgerald writes toward the end of “Winter Dreams.” As somebody who also left his own Middle West, I often find myself thinking about that sentence and what I left behind. You get the sense Fitzgerald always knew that he was leaving, that he was going to put his half of the Twin Cities behind him. St. Paul was where Fitzgerald was young, where he saw some of his own dreams flourish, but he thought, maybe foolishly, that those dreams would be better served somewhere else than the place that made him.“Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of illusion, of youth, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished,” Fitzgerald writes toward the end of “Winter Dreams.” As somebody who also left his own Middle West, I often find myself thinking about that sentence and what I left behind. You get the sense Fitzgerald always knew that he was leaving, that he was going to put his half of the Twin Cities behind him. St. Paul was where Fitzgerald was young, where he saw some of his own dreams flourish, but he thought, maybe foolishly, that those dreams would be better served somewhere else than the place that made him.
F. Scott Fitzgerald started in St. Paul, but moved around a lot. Here are some of the places he is most associated with.
“Princeton is in the flat midlands of New Jersey, rising, a green Phoenix, out of the ugliest country in the world,” Fitzgerald wrote of his alma mater, the same university Amory Blaine in “This Side of Paradise” attended.
The leafy Chicago suburb shows up in “The Great Gatsby,” and Fitzgerald wrote to his daughter, Scottie, that he thought the city was “the most glamorous place in the world.” He visited once before he found literary fame, tosee his first love and inspiration for Daisy Buchanan, Ginevra King.
Nick Carraway observed in “The Great Gatsby” that New York City offered “all the mystery and the beauty in the world,” and Fitzgerald believed much the same. The author lived for a short time in a one-bedroom apartment just north of Columbia University, and also at the Plaza with his wife and daughter in 1922 before moving to the cheaper and quieter part of Long Island that would inspire his most famous book.
The place that inspired West Egg in “The Great Gatsby.” There are still some Gilded Age country housesalong Long Island’s North Shore, including the seven-bedroom house that the Fitzgeralds rented for $300 a month at 6 Gateway Drive, that have ties to Fitzgerald. Others, like Lands End, said to be the place Fitzgerald envisioned his famous character’s lost love living in “Gatsby,” were lost to the wrecking ball.
There are few times and places like Paris after World War I. Gertrude Stein, Hart Crane, Anaïs Nin, Picasso, Duchamp and, of course, Fitzgerald and his friend and rival, Ernest Hemingway, were all there and creating some of their most famous art. Many of the places connected with Fitzgerald, like the Dingo Bar, where he and Hemingway are reported to have first met in 1924, are no longer around, but it’s still Paris.
Where else would a great writer go to try to catch his second shot at fame? Sadly, Fitzgerald never had his happy ending, and died at 44, leaving many to wonder what could have been with the Hollywood novel he was working on, when he dropped dead from a heart attack, “The Love of the Last Tycoon.”