This past Saturday, my husband and I went to the Leiper’s Fork yard sale. Dozens of dealers—including regular folks, collectors and, ostensibly, Mike Wolfe of “American Pickers” and Antique Archeology fame (I didn’t see him, but other people were staffing his booth)—were selling their trash and treasures in Marty and Bruce Hunt’s humongous front yard just on the edge of town.
Among the sellers that sunny October day was Yeoman’s in the Fork, “a rare book & document gallery.” As I was sifting through a pile of old, forgotten photos at their table, the woman standing next to me picked up a worn, maroon, velvet-covered book about four inches thick and decorated with metal scroll and flowers and the word, “Album” on the front cover.
The vendor walked over and explained that he’d recently bought the album at an estate sale. Full of old black and white photos, letters and aged newspaper clippings, it centered around Ursula Cheshire, he said, a dancer who was born in the early 1900s and died too young at age 45. Peeking over the woman’s shoulder as she perused the album, I spied a photo of a pretty teenaged girl in costume, posing dramatically on one knee with her head tipped back. It intrigued me and I hoped the woman would gently set the book back down and move along. I was itching to look at it.
Eventually, after peering at the pages and looking at the price tag one last time, she sighed and gave up possession of the book. My turn.
I looked at the first few photos and clippings—enough to feel the album contained a story I wanted to discover. But, ooh, at $150 it was a bit pricey for me. Should I buy it or not? I felt I was on the verge of a mysterious and exciting adventure. “Would you take $100 for it?” I asked the man. A pause. “I could do $125,” he responded.
I brought the album home, but haven’t looked through it yet. I want to discover its contents slowly and piece together the story it weaves. I have a million questions. Who was Ursula Cheshire? Where did she grow up? Did she dance professionally, or just as a school girl? Did she have siblings? Did she ever marry or have children? What caused her death at age 45? Whom had the album belonged to? Will it offer enough clues to reveal a coherent narrative? Will I be able to research information to fill in some blanks? Are any of her relatives still alive, and do they know more intimate details of her life? Once I open the book, where will the pages lead me?
I can’t wait to find out, and I thought it might be fun to share my experiences—discoveries, insights, road blocks, surprises—and bits of the album as I attempt to unlock its mysteries. Hence, the Mystery Dancer blog is born. I hope you’ll join me for the journey.