The Lost Girl of Astor Street(101)
Piper feels deeply discouraged by the corruption surrounding her. To Mariano, she voices, “At the end of the day, how much can one person really do?” Have you ever felt this way? How would you answer her?
Piper’s father tells her, “Piper, my girl, to love anyone is to risk.” Do you think this is true?
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I had the idea for Piper’s story in August of 2013, but as a writer who had only written contemporary novels, I didn’t have the courage to start until a few months later, when my then-three-year-old son was diagnosed with epilepsy.
Much of the early research for this book took place beside Connor’s bed at Children’s Mercy Hospital as we ran test after test to understand his seizures and get them under control. As I watched Connor get poked and prodded, it suddenly seemed silly for me to be fearful of the research required to write a historical novel.
While my understanding of epilepsy is from my real life, I read book after book after book to wrap my head around life in 1924. I fell head over heels in love with this decade. Bookended by the World War I and the Great Depression and containing what’s been called one of the greatest social experiments of all time—the outlawing of manufacturing, transporting, and selling alcoholic beverages—the 1920s was a unique decade for all.
But it was especially unique for women. Not only had women just won the right to vote, but the media—which had an increasing presence and influence in people’s lives—had a lot to say about what a modern woman should be. And many of those messages contradicted values of the previous generation, creating a difficult dynamic between parents and children.
As I read diaries written by 1920s teenagers, I was struck by how familiar their frustrations sounded. They wanted more freedom, they struggled with body image, they felt their parents were out of touch with modern times, and so on. In fact, a 1924 sociology study (Middletown: A Study In Modern American Culture) documented that teenagers fought with their parents over the use of the car more than over any other matter.
All the characters in The Lost Girl of Astor Street are creations of my imagination, but many have similar stories to those who lived in the decade. While Lydia’s fate is pure fiction, there were far too many who suffered like she did—including Bobby Franks, whose tragic kidnapping happens in the background while Piper searches for Lydia.
The Finnegan brothers and their extended family in Kansas City are, thankfully, fictitious, though I read books and articles about mobsters for inspiration. Many of the stories of their crimes were heartbreaking to read, and it’s easy to minimize them to one-dimensional people. But one anecdote that amused me and reminded me of their complexity was of Dion “Deanie” O’Banion, whose gang controlled Chicago’s North Side in the early 1920s. He loved flower arranging, and at mob funerals he “sometimes supplied not only the posies but the corpse” (American Mafia by Thomas Reppetto).
Some of the resources that aided me include—but are definitely not limited to—Daily Life in the United States 1920s–1940 by David E. Kyvig; Middletown: A Study In Modern American Culture by Robert S. Lynd and Helen Merrell Lynd; The Poisoner’s Handbook by Deborah Blum; and Flapper by Joshua Zeitz. I’m grateful for these authors and many others for their work to preserve history. While I’m sure I made unintentional mistakes in The Lost Girl of Astor Street, these writers prevented me from making many more!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I don’t always remember the exact moment I thought of a story idea, but I do for this one. Unfortunately, the moment is nothing glamorous—I was putting away laundry in my daughter’s room—but I was so instantly in love with the story that I immediately told two people.
My husband, Ben, was the first. Your confidence in me and my ability to actually get this book down on paper has been unfailing from the beginning. Thank you for indulging all my, “Did you know in the Twenties that . . . ?” tidbits, the crazy amount of research books that started landing on our doorstep, and the investment of time this book took.
The other person I told right away was author and friend Roseanna M. White. Thank you for every pep talk, every question answered, and every moment of hand holding that I so desperately (and constantly!) needed along the way. And thank you for letting me hold your research books hostage. I can probably send those back to you now . . .
McKenna, you have been so patient and understanding and prayerful as I’ve worked on Piper’s story. I’m so lucky to have a daughter like you. Connor, I couldn’t have written Lydia’s character without you and the journey you’re on. You teach me every day about choosing joy—thank you! Eli, thanks for completing our family. We’re so happy you’re here!
Sandra Bishop, thank you so much for your tireless faith and patience. Thank you specifically for the poolside pep talk all those years ago. Even though I hadn’t yet thought of the idea for Piper’s story, your encouragement to pursue stories I love for an audience I love gave me the assurance I needed to write this book.
Jillian Manning, it’s been a joy to work with you on The Lost Girl of Astor Street. Your enthusiasm, vision, and hard work made the book stronger and deeper. Thank you so much for believing in this story and developing its potential. I’m also grateful for the entire Blink team, specifically Breanna Dey, Jacque Alberta, and Ron Huizinga. What a privilege it is to work with such smart, creative people.