IT'S SUNNY OUTSIDE AND CLARICE AND SAUL are enjoying the burst of warm weather as they stroll across the park in Fourth Ward toward Alexander Michael's on 9th Street. "I've never eaten there before," says Clarice. "In fact, I didn't even know it was here. When did you find it?"
"On a day not too different from today," Saul replies. "It was pretty outside and I was walking the dog and I just kind of stumbled across it. The food smelled incredible but I couldn't go inside because I had Sydney. I made a mental note to come back later. That was about two years ago and I've been a regular ever since."
"Funny you never mentioned the place before."
"Well...you know...it was my special hideaway. Now you're so special I decided it was time to share it with you."
"Aww," Claire says with a mildly sarcastic chuckle. "I'm special."
A smiling brunette greets them at the door and invites them into the darkened interior.
"Two for lunch?" she asks cheerily.
"Yes," says Saul. "Can we have a booth in the back?"
"I think so," the brunette says haltingly. "Let me check and see what's available. Have a seat. I'll be right back."
Clarice and Saul grab the two remaining chairs by the door.
"Popular place, huh?" Clarice asks.
"There's so many people living in Uptown now there's hardly anyplace that doesn't have a waiting line these days. But this place has been here for a long time. It's been a restaurant since the early '80s. Before that it was general store that dated back to the early 20th century."
"I love history," Clarice offers. "And I love when you can experience today something that was a major part of yesterday."
"You're such a romantic, Clarice. I knew you would appreciate this place."
The brunette returns promptly with a broad smile.
"We've got you one right where you want," she says. "Follow me."
Clarice and Saul follow the brunette to the far back corner, where it is even darker than the waiting area towards the front. She seats them in a booth and offers up two menus.
"I'll give you guys a little time to look over what we have to offer. In the meantime, can I get you something to drink from the bar?"
"It's a little too early to start drinking for me," says Saul. "What about some iced tea?"
"Iced tea it is. What would you like?" she asks Clarice.
"I think I'll have a Diet Pepsi or Coke, whatever you have."
"Great. Tea and diet cola. Be right back."
Clarice turns her gaze on Saul.
"Okay. I have about two months to put this next exhibit together. What have you discovered since you found the mine entrance? Seen your friend Abraham again?
"No. In fact it looked as though no one had been there at all for a very long time."
"Any more flashing blue light?"
Saul shakes his head from side to side, shrugging his shoulders. "And for the record, it wasn't a flashing blue light. It was more like an eerily glowing blue light."
"Right."
"What difference does it make?"
"Well...one could be a crazy police car chasing a fugitive...and the other could be...well...something else. Depending on how much you believe in things outside the tangible world we live in day to day."
"You're getting a little X-Files on me Clarice. What are you talking about?"
"Okay. Keep in mind I'm a total skeptic when it comes to these things."
"I know, of course."
"But since you told me about your experience...I've been doing a little research."
"What did you find?"
"Ever hear of astral projection?"
"Sounds very new-agey to me. What is it?"
"According to practitioners of it...in basic layman terms...it's when you leave your physical body and travel to other places...in time and space."
"Clarice...you don't really believe..."
The waitress returns with the same smile on her face, diet cola and tea in hand, ready to take their order.
"Have you you guys decided what you want for lunch?"
Clarice looks up at her, a bit flustered by the interruption.
"No. I'm sorry. We've been chatting, you know, catching up. Would you mind giving us another minute?"
"Of course not," the brunette replies. "Here are your drinks, I'll be back in just a few."
"Miss," Clarice calls out.
"Yes?"
"What's your name?"
"Monica."
"It's so much easier when I know your name, you know, rather than, 'Hey you!"
Monica breaks out in a large grin. "It is, isn't t it? What are your names?"
"I'm Clarice. This is my boyfriend Saul."
"Sa-ool?" She asks.
"It's spelled like Paul, but pronounced with two syllables," Saul chimes in. "It's actually of Brazilian origin.
"That's cool," Monica replies. "You Brazilian?"
"Puerto Rico. Some general South American thrown in for good measure."
"Well that's cool. I'm an immigrant myself, too. Born in Ireland. Raised in Charlotte."
She scampers off to help the next table.
"So we better figure out what we want, right?" Says Clarice, as she peruses the menu.
"One step ahead of you, and already got that figured out. Now tell me some more about astral projection."
"There's not that much to tell beyond what I just said -- other than when a traveling spirit manifests on another plane it can come in the form of a hazy blue light."
"Abraham Owens didn't appear to me as a hazy blue light. He was flesh and blood. I touched him. It was only when he was walking away that I saw that light."
"Abraham Owens is a special fellow, says Clarice, reaching down to the left side of her seat to retrieve the large shoulder bag she'd brought with her on their excursion. She fishes out an oversized black book embossed with raised gold letters.
"Practitioners of the Craft." Saul looks at Clarice skeptically. "C'mon, Clarice. Witchcraft? Voodoo? You don't believe in that stuff."
"I don't," Clarice replies, opening the dusty pages to a section she obviously bookmarked earlier. "But he did. And so did the rest of his family."
She turns the book around for Saul to see. He peers down at a reproduction of a tintype showing an antebellum period family, complete with plantation and slaves.
Beneath the image is a caption. The Owens family of Charlotte, North Carolina.
Saul squints as he looks at a tall, elderly black man holding the hand of a little blond girl.
"That looks like him. But how can you tell? There's not a name listed here."
"Turn the page."
"You guys figure out what you want for lunch?" Monica asks.
"Tilapia Fish 'n Chips," Saul says without looking up.
"Large garden salad with balsamic vinaigrette," Clarice replies, glancing in Monica's direction.
"Must be a good book," she says off-handedly.
"Very old. With some pretty unusual pictures," Saul offers.
He points to a picture of a blue-hued tintype that shows an elderly but very solid black man leaning against a hitching post.
"Listen to this," he announces. "It says here Abraham Owens was so revered by his slave-owner family that he was given his freedom decades before abolition. Despite that, he continued to live with the Owens family because of his affection for them and their frail daughter, Mary Riley."
"Let me get your lunch order in, guys," Monica interjects. "You get back to your book."
"So, you wanna reproduce some of these images on canvas for your next exhibit?" Saul asks.
"I do. But I want to do more. We need to get back in the mine and take some pictures. I'd like to do some composites from the photos I take and the images here."
"We can do that. But the bigger picture here is what happened to me. Was I visited by some friendly spirit? It's a little freakish, don't you think? That's him. That's even his name and that picture is dated 1860. It also says here he was laid to rest in Pinewood Cemetery. Where is that?
"It's right beside Elmwood. It used to be a separate cemetery for African-Americans. They took down a fence that divided the two back in 1969. Most newcomers don't even recognize there are two cemeteries."
Clarice reaches across the table and pulls the book away from Saul's grasp.
"Look, I don't even pretend to know what's going on here," she says, returning the book to her bag. "But I have a hunch that we might find out while we're working on this exhibit. You game?"
~ David Moore
* A mixture of fact and fiction, Elmwood Park is a serial exclusive to Uptown.
To catch up on previous editions, go to the archives section of this website.
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