ENTERTAINMENT

It can take very little to entertain one's self. Children pile blocks. Men construct barriers. I write memories.

C. Allen liked to wander across the countryside collecting all that grew and attracted his attention; he enjoyed entertaining people in his home, at the cottage, at the club, at ball games, for meals and dancing, where ever and when ever. He was very careful about 'whom ever' for whom ever had to be 'economically feasible'. C. Allen could never have been a hermit; he needed people, their conversation and, chiefly, their acclaim. He was never able to invite one or two people to anything except, maybe to a business meeting. When the boy scouts came, it was scout executives - as many as could come with wives and family; when it was Cranbrook's ceramic shop or metal shop, it was the students, wives/husbands and children - all of them. My supplies increased to match the numbers.

The numbers invited had little to do with the numbers that came, every guest brought a guest if he was so inclined. Never was there an empty place at table; if twenty were invited, twenty-plus would come for supper. Harold Morrison brought his psychiatrist and the doctor's wife for Morrison wanted his doctor to meet the perfect couple. One time, entertaining the group involved in raising money for the colored colleges, there were sixty-nine people being fed in the family room. Parties simply grew on any occasion to match the occasion.

It was probably my fault for having decided that we should entertain 'family groups' rather than using the methods that were in vogue when C. Allen first was learning the ways of business. From what I read and much that I saw (TV, of course), little has changed. So probably we were better off entertaining people in bunches. I did learn to cook huge meals, great portions, just lots of everything; people came back for seconds and thirds. Cranbrook students were always hungry. Harry Beck (employee) complained that, as he was planning a company Christmas party for employees, customers, sales people, or friends, he could never be sure of just how many people would appear to claim their dinner. There were always proper RSVPs; but C. Allen, as he went about the town, invited this one or that one and then forgot to tell Beck. Mine was that kind of a headache.

When C. Allen took his snicker-snees out to prune his trees, he attacked them, leaving the cuttings to lie where they dropped. On the other hand, if he were out amusing himself by gathering anything that struck his fancy, it would come into the house and be dropped on a counter for me to handle. When Kirsten was born, he went out to gather his gift of plant life for mother and child. I sorted, discarded, and arranged the remainder which he took to the hospital. A nurse questioned what 'that' was. Joyce explained. The nurse had no way of measuring the value of the gift by the love of the giver. Another time, C. Allen dropped his collection and went about whatever occupied him at the time. I sorted and made arrangements for the parlor, dining room and each desk down the hall (cleared up and threw out the remainder and washed my hands). He, before he left for Tennessee, asked if I had something for poison ivy. I gave him what I had. He went down to Columbia and asked brother Leon for something for the rash on his hands. Meanwhile a visitor had arrived at 3535 with his camera and asked permission to photograph my arrangements. He had heard about them. Permission was granted. Dr. Ulbretch, dermatologist, used the films during his lectures for years until the pictures had faded to browns. Every arrangement was centered with a small cluster of white berries - poison ivy. I had washed my hands very well.

When the snow began to fall, we were all young enough that we rejoiced and the hillsides sprouted children and sleds. When the ice had formed, they came with skates. There was always laughter. It was wonderful to be snowbound - snowbound when Joe brought his family north to celebrate a birthday - there was twenty-two inches of snow on the terrace table that November. Snowbound meant a day off from school. To be 'snowbound' is entirely different from 'not being able to go out'; with the one, you rejoiced; otherwise, you groused.

It was a special winter day that happened when 3535 was opened for the Christmas Walk. There was no concern about parking the many cars expected to arrive; the police were not called to tell them of a possible parking problem - there would always be the big meadow. The weather intervened and changed all plans: it snowed, great clinging flakes of snow. The roads were difficult to travel. The meadow was covered with snow too deep to walk. C. Allen's tall evergreens were draped along their weighted branches with crystal fluff. The women were delighted. The police arrived and ordered parking on Adams. The walk along the drive was a walk into fairyland. Home was a Christmas card - a sparkling, chilly Christmas card! I truly think the outside out did the inside.

Our first parties were small - they had to fit the Forrer house. dinner parties accommodated themselves to the size of the dining room, the table and the number of chairs. No one, to my knowledge had invented 'buffet' meals. (I call them lap-lunches now.)

We entertained some GM people at our last bridge party on Forrer. I had bought a set of bookends - (What else would I buy?) - marble bases with small bronze sailing ships. I had high score. C. Allen had second highest. The third went to our GM guest. He took the bookends and returned the next day to borrow a book. That was the first volume of my traveling library. Also - that was auction bridge. We had many invitations to fill out bridge tables but C. Allen's business grew and the demands upon his time. The family grew and the demands upon my time. We accepted no invitations.

We had dinner parties. The coming of Mattie was a great help even though both she and I were learning: I to cook and she to cook in the fashion of the north. We were neither of us slouches as students. We learned a lot of things - especially how to cut corners - time saving devices and food stretching techniques. The Robbins family declared that we always served roast chicken on Sunday. The relatives from the south swore that my fresh pork roast was veal (herbs did that). At 3535, Norma Martin, watching me prepare a meal, offered to help; I told her that I could tell what we were having for dinner after it was on the table. I never knew just when Sunday dinner would be. I never knew exactly what was left in the refrigerator. Food in the frig had a way of disappearing before I got around to cooking a meal. Meals were prepared, served and consumed. There was only one problem - I heard from C. Allen if I had only one entree. There were few left-overs on company days. C. Allen could and would invite a host of people. They would come - all of them, always with family, often with friends. The meal would be stretched.

Dining at the Indianwood Golf Club was often a life saver. If I did not have the food at the cottage or feel up to the task, we went over there. Into Birmingham's A&P on Thursday or Friday, two carts filled would cost less than twenty dollars - all could be completely gone by Monday. I could not shop often then.

Having the Golf Club serving dinners during the winter was always a benefit to the Harlans. The Drummonds enjoyed it too. During the winters, there were seldom others there than the Harlans, the Drummonds, and the Rublemann family (owners) . The children could be excused from table early, play in the great main room and run the corridors on the second level. It was a place just made for winter children once they had come in from skiing or sledding on the hillsides.

One time the Boy Scouts came to 3535 in great numbers. They prepared and served the meal outdoors; steaks, roast corn, baked potatoes - all thing that could be cooked in that wonderful fire place built at the back of the house to handle trash problems. Another summer day, the dinner was to have been for scout executives and their families. Fine, we could handle that. Mrs. Cook had counted forty-nine. The problem was that a few Eagle Scouts had been invited. Their parents brought them and everybody picked up a dinner plate and stayed. Finally as Jay and I were looking at the bottoms of empty bowls, Bob Kilmer came into the family room to tell me that we had served over sixty - just scouts. The family had not been included in that count. Talk bout the man who came to dinner and stayed...and stayed!

One Sunday, C. Allen had invited the pot shop; the meal was prepared. The guests came - and we waited and waited and waited for the host. Two hours later, he came home. C. Allen had simply forgotten all about us. He, it seems, had been visiting about the town. Special guests on that particular Sunday was a tall thin dark-skinned man walking and talking with a tiny woman of matching complexion. As they reached the arch to the dining room, he touched her shoulder and, pointing, beamed; there on the table, part of the centerpiece was 'his' pot. That was Lert and Som Urasyandana - Siamese students who had been sent to Cranbrook by their government to study architecture and ceramics. They taught me to use our recent purchases whenever I could. Her specialties were light-weight, footed, covered pots - perfect for casserole dishes. As the food was passed around the parlor for second helpings, her finger followed the progress of each such dish - it was her's. Som taught the other potters a lesson which was difficult to learn. Maja Grotel's pots were heavy and carefully thrown. They expressed the characteristics of herself and of her native Finland. Som's were quite the opposite - thin and light even as Som herself and just as I imagined her native Thailand. Meals for the metal shop or pot shop generally happened after the Christmas sale. There were other times simply because C. Allen was at the Academy and invited everyone over. Most often the afternoon would go smoothly.

Once, when I was feeling especially low, he was told to have the party catered. When he made no plans, I said that I would go away, visit some one of the family, that I simply could not handle the coming afternoon. I packed my cases and left. He called Joyce - would she come and help him? She would be busy that day but she would do his shopping for him. What did he have ready? C. Allen had bought steaks from Frank Bob. "How many did he expect?" More than twenty; then Joyce listed the rest of the things necessary for a complete meal which she would buy if he would give her the money. C. Allen handed her twenty dollars. I do not know on what planet he had been living.

At the last of the student parties, things were going along as usual. We were in the family room, using the terrace for the weather was pleasant. C. Allen was busy entertaining (as usual) an appreciative audience. I was working back of the snack bar which did so many things efficiently for me. Finally, one of the men who had been standing observing asked - "Mr. Harlan likes to make like a plantation owner?" I nodded. "Where are the slaves?"

One time, Thelma James and I counted five(?) 'live' theaters in Detroit at one time; young Detroit even had an opera house as did most towns in America - before the days of the expanding movie business. By the time that C. Allen and I were able to use the theater for entertainment, the movies were going full tilt. 'Live' theater was special.

Ken Nicholson (Topinkas) bought tickets for us to see "Guys and Dolls". We had dinner at Topinkas', got down early and parked. It was special parking too. Once in, you stayed until the play was over. We settled into our seats only to find that we were a week early. Now what was to be done? We couldn't get the car out of the lot. Decided to go to a movie. Everybody was agreeable. Walking to the movie house, C. Allen whispered to me - 'got any money'. "Only your check, Dear." Upshot was that he stopped by the Book Cadillac, got some cash from the clerk and we made it on to the movie. Everybody agreed, the next week when we did see "Guys and Dolls", that the first try was more fun. When the Nederlanders opened the Fisher, we went weekly; I do not remember what the first musical was (it flubbed in New York), but we must have seen it six times - after all we were introducing many people to the newest attraction in town.

Stratford's Festival Theater pursued C. Allen consistently. He had cash. They wanted some. I became hooked on Stratford's plays. If I remember correctly Macbeth was one Shakespearean play which was studied in highschool. Years later it was enchanting to find the names and places mentioned in the play as we traveled through Scotland. Every student is given a touch of Shakespeare. It is usually poorly taught. The students lack the knowledge to understand. The U. of M. expert on Shakespeare was Professor O. J. Campbell, my mentor during the Honors English class. I have been well trained.

I had heard and enjoyed opera. C. Allen was asked to get tickets for us. He ignored me until he was elected to head the opera society. That turned me off. Then we were both turned off when, with Joyce and Phillenore, we went to hear Orpheus and Eurydice sung in English. C. Allen sat and blushed through the entire program. I decided that opera is only Italian ethnic. We tried opera again as David DiChiera, Oakland University, began to present it in curtained spaces, using folding wooden chairs in a college building. David since then has moved his activity to Music Hall and now has the use of the Fisher stage.

The ball games? Early on, of course, there were only two professional ball teams in town - the Tigers and the Red Wings. Tiger games were important to HEC; we went to Navin Field and, when it was rebuilt on the same spot, to Tiger Stadium. I had watched the building of the Olympia for the Red Wings from a highschool classroom. We seldom saw any of the Red Wing games. C. Allen was a southerner and the ice had no appeal for him, except that he would take the children to see the Ice Capades - ballet on ice.

C. Allen went to football games during my days as a student. He used my passes - I wasn't interested. He (the company) patronized the Michigan football team and we watched that stadium grow until it could seat more than a hundred thousand six hundred people. Even when it was 'sold out' there were always seats available. I doubt that C. Allen paid scalpers prices. We did, on occasion, lunch with Dr. and Mrs. Hatcher and then watch the game from under the press box protected from the snow or rain. We did lunch with the Hannahs and their guests and watch State games from the Hannah box, warm, comfortable, and well-informed. We did cheer as the two state governors, whom we knew personally - Williams and Romney - crossed the field. It has long been the custom when Michigan and State play each other for the governor and his wife to cross to seats on the opposite side - their allegiance is dual. We cheered according to the affiliation of the box in which we were sitting; our affiliations were dual.

Basketball was the lone orphan of the sports. The schools did have teams, but the whole game lacked the pull that professional baseball and university foot ball had. It wasn't until the University of Tennessee came north to play the U. of M. that, because of Andy Holt, we went to Ann Arbor field house to see a game. Dr. Holt was disappointed when Dr. Hatcher did nothing more than come to the field house to meet him and wish his team well. Basketball had always been more popular in the south than in the north. There was a basket hanging by every garage south of the Ohio River; and every boy in the south took daily pot-shots. We had no guests to see that Michigan/Tennessee basket ball game.

There were parties for youngsters and oldsters. Any reason would do for a celebration. There were plantings and tours that required some thing to drink and to eat (my department). C. Allen enjoyed leading a second or third grade class through his acres, teaching them the names of his trees and their differences. The Harlan child, whose class that was, wore the honor like a badge - they were proud; the kids in the class enjoyed. Then members of the Horticulture Society came, en masse, to see his plantings and give him an award. Another time having promised trees to the convent which was building a school for girls on Kensington Road in the Hills, a planting day was arranged and the labor of the fathers promised. That was a bitter cold day; no one but C. Allen was properly dressed. City fathers simply do not know of bone-deep cold. Even the sisters helped to shiver the little trees into place. Then with no prior announcement, everyone appeared in the kitchen ready for hot chocolate and doughnuts. Because the first day was so cold and not all of the trees required were planted, they came a second cold and chilly day for hot chocolate and doughnuts after another tree-planting.

C. Allen joined the Detroit Athletic Club; it was often used. They had for years a good orchestra playing for dancing of a Friday evening; and C. Allen liked to dance. Many compliments have been given me since then for everyone perceived the pleasure which dancing gave C. Allen - 'always such fun'. Of course we danced what I call the 'Tennessee warehouse hop' but it suited C. Allen and I knew no better. The compliments were not because we were Astaire and Rogers but because C. Allen's enjoyment was so obvious. Even the orchestra knew and played his favorite piece.

There were birthday parties, there were slumber parties, cast parties, graduation parties, wedding parties, family reunions at 3535 - you name it; we probably did it. C. Allen gave the use of the grounds to various groups, they were responsible for the arrangements, the news notices, the catering. At times, although C. Allen had given the permission, he was concerned about the honesty of the people brought in to handle the food. Did it reassure him when I pointed out that the people about whom he was questioning were bonded by their employer and that their jobs depended upon their honesty?

Dinner parties at the DAC might be four to twenty, planned or impromptu. The older children were always part of such affairs. We would order. Campbell would look at my plate and then hand me his - nine times out of ten. Joyce and John Scott came in to tell us that they were engaged; we celebrated and the maitre-d' found a special cake for us. Lois Sloan celebrated a birthday and an orchid appeared for her to wear. Joyce was given a sixteenth birthday party. A huge birthday cake with spun-sugar frosting was brought to table and served. None of the young people liked it. It was flavored with rum. During C. Allen's years nothing was impossible for the club when we asked.

I recall one birthday party here at the house - mine. I had been promised and looked forward to a dinner out. That Sunday, I watched the parlor slowly fill with people. I took a roast from the freezer and began dinner preparations. Finally, I took the roast from the oven, cut it into bite sized pieces, added a quart of home-canned onions and served ragout to seventeen. Some birthday party! It really was a surprise party for it had not been planned.

C. Allen's daughters did plan a surprise party for his last birthday. Jeanne and I asked to be taken out for dinner. He agreed reluctantly. Home from the restaurant, we had a problem getting him to enter the house by the front door - there was a surprise party for him inside. We knew that if he went in by the back door he would turn into the hall and go back to bed. Joyce, Beth and Sida had worked to get all of the details tied together. Everyone was waiting. He was surprised. His sons took and developed the pictures of our festivities. He truly enjoyed living that wonderful 'surprise'. It was three weeks later before I could get him to write his thank-you notes. Those were the notes that arrived to the various addresses the day that the notice of his death was in the papers. Leonard Simons told me of his great shock to have the newspaper article and the thank-you note both in hand. Can you imagine?