Dorothy (Darcie) Mudd Witherspoon – 210 – Back to Book 3
At some time during the late 1980s I tried to capture my
feelings about what Belvedere means to me. The sentiment still holds true for
me today. I hope you enjoy it:
Here I sit on my parents’ front
porch situated on Pavilion Park listening to the wind jostle the oak, beech, birch,
and maple leaves. Sometimes it’s a whisper, sometimes a 30-mph roar. Back home
in St. Louis, around May, when I hear that familiar sound, I know it’s time to
head up to Michigan. Even when my oldest, Anna, was a little girl of six, she
remarked that the wind blowing through the trees reminded her of Charlevoix.
Each time I leave for my true home, I leave a part of me here, which goes
dormant with the approaching cold only to be revived when I return ten months
later. I’ve tried to capsulize those summer sights, sounds, smells and feeling
with photographs, preserves, framed paintings and pottery mugs but they only
make me hunger for a complete fulfillment of all my senses.
The smell of bacon or coffee wafting
across the tennis courts in the morning; the pungent smell of the newly mowed
golf greens; the strong fishy smell of fresh or smoked whitefish, salmon, or
trout at John Cross; the delicate smell of rose gardens scattered on the
grounds; the sickly sweet smell billowing out of Murdick’s Fudge; the mouthwatering
odor of a beach cookout; even the moist smell in the air that tells me it may
soon be a shopping day in Harbor Springs or Petoskey. All of these penetrate my
nostrils and activate my mind whether allergies are present or not.
The sounds are endless: the
rhythmic sound of tennis balls being hit back and forth across the net; a group
of friends gathering by chance—a mixture of North and South, East and West
crescendo-ing into laughter; the little voices of gangsters on the beach
playing in the sand; the wail of the noon whistle or the alertness of the fire
alarm; a game of capture the flag in full swing near the casino; the lunch time
critiques and compliments at the golf course; the silence when the motor is cut
while setting sail; the response of the bridge calling passersby to watch the
boats pass through; the chatter of black squirrels, the call of seagulls, the
peeps of the ducklings following behind their mother; a wooden door slamming
behind a child late to gang; the ever so slow fading of a cigarette boat
crossing Lake Charlevoix; the warning whine of the foghorn; and of course the
wind.
The sights are always present: the
distant flash of lightning warning one to close the car windows; the ripple of
water after the fish jump; bicycles dropping out of view as they plunge down
the tennis court hill; the vivid colors of spinnakers on Wednesday nights; the
peach and purple afterglow of sunsets; the multitude but harmonious blend of
painted cottages; the crisp blue of sky and the greenness of Lake Charlevoix;
the black and white flash of an unwelcomed guest; impromptu baseball or
football games in the park; the tunnels on the Jordan River marking the lunch
spot; Mr. Moerland biking to club concerns. These visions I can see even with
my eyes closed.
Feelings run deep intermingled with
my senses of Charlevoix: the exhilaration of wind, wave, and sail joining
forces; the pride when a child receives a special award; the peacefulness of an
early morning walk; the closeness brought on by a warming fire on a chilly
night; the pleasure of seeing once again childhood and adulthood friends; the
contentment of just sitting on the front porch sensing life around me, feeling
the wind.
* * * *
All my Belvedere summers I have
listened to the wind from that porch.
Cottage 210 was purchased in 1949
by my parents, Dotty and Dayton H Mudd, when I was three years old. They wanted
a place of their own because my mother's family was on Mercer Boulevard in
Charlevoix and my father's family was on Walloon Lake. While we spent time in
both of those places during the summers, Belvedere was our family’s summer place.
And because my family moved numerous times around the Midwest while I was
growing up, 210 on the Belvedere Club seemed more like home to me as it was a
constant every summer of my life.
My childhood on the Belvedere was
wonderful with my sisters, my brother, and my parents. There was boating on the
Xtabay, and then the Dolphin, and learning to ski at 13 behind the Great
Daymon. Big family gatherings on Lake Charlevoix or Walloon Lake were usually finished
off with boating at night, and dinners at Mercer concluded with being able to
take a walk by ourselves but only as far as the end of the fence. Beach picnics
full of cousin fun and getting to exploring the land at two-mile point were
occasions not to be missed.
As kids we loved to go to the Belvedere
Hotel. We could only play bingo and have dinner there if we had an adult with
us, but we were allowed to take ourselves to the glass counter to buy candy and
gum. Only when we were feeling bold and clever did we ever poke our heads into
the Bamboo Room (the bar), or sneak into the elevators when Lulu, the elevator
operator (who had amazing red hair), took her lunch break. We’d go check out
the floor with the employee’s rooms. Or sometimes we would sneak onto the roof-top
to take in the spectacular view of the club and the lake. I remember being upset
when the hotel was torn down. It was such an elegant hotel and we felt so grown
up when the hotel band would play at the Casino for Gang dances.
Gang dances were one of the only
times that the boys and the girls were together because back then the Gangs
were divided into Girls Gang and Boys Gang. At these Gang dances we would learn
how to dance. As a younger girl we would do the bunny hop and hokey pokey.
There was also the Thorn Rosa dance, but I was never lucky enough to be Thorn
Rosa, I felt I wasn’t pretty enough to be picked. But I sure felt pretty when I
got to dance with my dad, just the two of us. As I got older, I learned the
Charleston and wore a lovely blue silk dress. Sadly, we learned I was allergic
to that dress when my asthma flared up and I was crushed I couldn’t wear it
again.
I loved when I was old enough to be
in the Big Girls Gang because we got to go horseback riding at Hooker’s riding
stable and ring on the other side of town and have archery lessons by the back
gate. There was also swimming and tennis. We would sing “waiting for the slow
pokes to come” to the Little Gang from the top of the tennis court hill. Golf had
yet to become part of Gang activities, so I didn’t really take to it as I did
tennis. There were also overnights to Young State Park, Fisherman’s, and
Whiting. We would tell ghost stories and make full fixing breakfasts in the
morning. We did arts and crafts on rainy days. Sailing then was in the Rockets.
The gang kids were always the “crew” with our advisors being a Gang Leader or
some knowledgeable club member like the Witherspoons or the Wares. Often, after
gang, my siblings and I would play ‘kick the can’ with the Wares (of 212) in
the park in front of our cottages.
Teen Gang started for the first
time with my age group around 1959 or 1960. The parents wanted some organized
things for their “in-between” kids to do and Teen Gang was just that, and it
was co-ed! I went to Teen Gang when I
returned from camp in Colorado. We went to Tahquamenon Falls for camping, went
water skiing, and learned to play bridge. There was a new movie every three or
four days at the Palace Theater for only 75 cents. Generally, lots of organized
fun for teenagers to do. Throughout the decades Teen Gang has come and gone.
Outside of Gang we would head to
Petoskey to Flora Ottomer’s for winter clothes, or Wimpy’s for the best olive and
mayo hamburgers around. Or maybe go to the Pony Tail “club” that was on the way
to Harbor Springs. Roy Oberson and the Beach Boys played there. Or maybe we’d even
stay in Charlevoix to enjoy a Jeff or Green River soda down at Schroeder and
Hovey Pharmacy. I volunteered at the Charlevoix Hospital, as did a lot of
Belvedere young adults, those who were out of Gang but still spent their
summers on the club.
As a late teen and early
twenty-something, I started to put some of my time back into the Belvedere Club
to create fun happy memories for others as I had already started collecting in
my life. In 1964 Linda Sherer and I produced the Cabaret. It had a cave-man
theme and was so much fun. I was a Gang Leader for two years, in 1967, and with
Bethy McKay Hall in 1968 for the Intermediate Gang. It was such a fun job, with
too many memories to try to recount. And it came full circle when my daughters,
Anna and Clare, had the children of my gangsters under their care in the late
80s and 90s.
As my siblings and I started our
own families, cottage 203 was purchased in 1974 for the overflow and the new
generation of gangsters beginning to enjoy the summer fun on Lake Charlevoix. Between
the three Mudd sisters we had eight kids in a 15-year span.
While my kids were growing up, my
interaction on the Club adjusted again. I’ve been on the Tennis Committee several
times (hiring Erik Lundteigen in 1981 is one of my proudest accomplishments for
them). I was co-director of Gang in 1985 with Andy Hill Schumacher and in 1986 and
1987 with Ginger Payne. I was on the Archive Committee during the creation of
the second Belvedere Club book (1990) and various other times.
My children and nieces and nephew were
able to experience the boating, Bell’s Bay beach picnics, cherry picking,
golfing, and all the gang activities that I so loved as a child. It was fun to
watch them all playing at Games in the Park, running through the club on
scavenger or treasure hunts, sailing the Hawks and hitting the tennis ball
across the net to their gang friends, and hearing the cheers as my son John ran
around the Charlevoix High track during the Gang Summer Olympics. They made
life-long friends and grew closer as cousins. They were even gang leaders, a
lifeguard, and a sailing instructor. Watching them all grow up under the same
summer setting, and at the end of the season being sun kissed and dancing with my
dad at Cabaret, confirmed why being on the Belvedere was so special.
When my children grew out of Gang
and took on more adult roles, I also started to explore Charlevoix in a new
way. I married Jim Witherspoon in 1992. Over the years we sailed around different
parts of Lake Charlevoix, Lake Michigan, Lake Superior, and Lake Huron. Taking
two weeks to explore our second home on the Algonquin was always a fun
experience and reminded me of the cruising I did with my family on the Xtabay
or Dolphin growing up. I was excited to have a doubles partner in Jim. It added
a new level of enjoyment and connection for me out on the courts. As the years
have continued for us, we began attending the Tuesday night Charlevoix City Band
Concerts and sharing them with our grandkids, hosting the occasional
progressive dinner with my sisters and their husbands, and watching Belvedere
stay the same and yet grow with each generation—enjoying old traditions and
creating new ones.
After both my parents passed away
the two family cottages were divided between my siblings and me in 2007. Then,
with each family expanding even more my sister Dail purchased 212 and we could watch
our grandchildren grow and spend summers together, right next door to each
other. These days we love to sit on our porches to visit while we watch all 11
Mudd great-grandchildren, some arriving from 203, play together in the park
that we so loved playing in ourselves.
I am sure, whether they know it or
not, they also hear that wind I love so much. The sound is overhead while they
are concentrating on sidewalk chalk art, in the background while they are
laughing together walking home from gang, and a part of the action while they
are throwing the frisbee in the park. From time to time these
great-grandchildren of Dotty and D.H. join in the quite hush of the wind as
well when they sit next to me on the porch bench, swinging their little legs
and enjoying the view. The peace of this place affects them as well and I
suspect that, like me, whenever they are elsewhere the echo of the wind returns
them here.