The Broadmoor Apartments

I ran across an old brochure from the Broadmoor Apartment Building last week. My grandfather, Roger Calvert was the first manager when it opened,  just before the financial crash in October. The Broadmoor is still a great place to live, but the olden days always sound so much more charming to me. Here are quotes from the booklet with comments and memories from my mother Bebe who lived there when she was 11 years old.

“On Connecticut avenue north of Porter street is the attractive apartment section of Washington. Here within a landscaped five acre setting of garden and flower decked promenades is erected THE BROADMOOR, an imposing edifice expressing the acceptable in modern architecture and fireproof construction. Within its 800 rooms are maintained the lovely apartment homes of lovely people.”

A lot of the Senators, the baseball kind, lived here, too. Bebe remembers going to games with her dad at Griffith Stadium, and all of the excitement when the team went to the World Series in 1933. Somewhere along the way legendary pitcher  Walter Johnson became friends with her father Roger.  That's Roger on the far left and Mr. Johnson on the far right.

She also remembers Huey Long arriving to stay with a great big entourage that scared my grandmother.

“Dining Room and Silver Grill: Decorated in the moderne.... The food is of the highest quality, and prepared by a particular chef who caters successfully to particular people.”

Here is the “dollar menu” from those days:

Choice: Fruit Cup- Iced Cantaloupe- Consomme Hot or Cold- Strained Chicken Gumbo-Iced Celery

Choice: Filet of Sole, Saute Meuniere- Fried Chicken with Corn Fritters- Grilled Sirloin Steak-Assorted Cold Cuts, Potato Salad
Sherbet
French Fried Potatoes New Peas in Butter
Green Corn Saute O’ Brien
Hearts of Lettuce Thousand Island Dressing
Choice: Green Apple Pie Fresh Peach Shortcake
Chocolate, Vanilla, Peach Ice Cream Raspberry Ice

Homemade Rolls

Tea Milk Coffee

Bebe had never had sherbet before and was very impressed with that- especially since it was not served as a dessert.

“All Apartments have outside porches and windows overlooking the garden of the Broadmoor or famous Rock Creek Park.”

Bebe remembers her little Roger hanging by his fingers from their window on the sixth floor, overlooking the garage.

"Most important to Milady:
All apartments have been designed to provide the utmost in comfort, and to eliminate home- making responsibilities to unusual degree...Waste from the kitchen and apartments is placed in receptacles, and noiselessly removed in the early morning by janitors from corridors outside apartments.”

A certain pet rabbit with a voracious appetite for undergarments was "noiselessly removed" and sent to live downstairs where the bellboys took care of him. Later, he reportedly lunged at a bellboy and was not seen again.

“Schools: The Broadmoor is close to all educational centers.”

Mom loved the private little bus that took the children to John Eaton.

“Beauty Shop: Within the Broadmoor. All approved treatments, and scientific care.”

Bebe got her first cool haircut called "The Windblown" here and left behind the detested "Dutch Bob"
of earlier years.

“Children’s Paradise: A play estate supreme, away from mere grown-ups, and in a wooded setting among wonder-trees and fairy verdure....Here the commanders of the sand pile, see-saw and swing develop to become the kind of men and women the world relies upon.”

That may have been all well and good, but Bebe remembers mostly hanging out on the beams underneath the building with her pals. One particularly noteworthy commander of that sandbox was John Hechinger. He grew up following his father into the hardware biz and had an early impact on Washington’s do it yourself hardware scene.

The Broadmoor also boasted a valet service, a laundry, a pastry shop, and a newsstand where Bebe hung out and read all the magazines for free. She also got movie passes for the Avalon Theater. She and Roger would take a picnic and ride the streetcar to spend the day at the movies. She also met my father when a friend brought some fellows over after school one day, but that's another story.

The Broadmoor History Project

My grandfather, Roger Louis Calvert, was the first manager of The Broadmoor Apartment Building on Connecticut Avenue when it opened in 1929 which was a long way from the farm where he grew up outside of Meridian, Missisissippi. Here is a clipping from the Washington Post:


Today the Broadmoor is a modern co-op, but still retains details of a grander time. A friend of mine is a current resident and historian. Recently she found out about a pre-1948 restaurant called The Margery, but she is looking for more information.


If you have any stories or memories, please write me or leave a comment below.

Remember Pearl Harbor

In our family, we learned to remember Pearl Harbor early in life because of my grandmother Bernice Calvert. She was an eyewitness to the attack, but her journey to Hawaii started here in Washington, DC.

In 1933 Bernice, a young widow, was managing the Broadmoor Apartments on Connecticut Avenue. She met her next husband when he was playing violin at the Broadmoor's afternoon teas. Bernie was from New York, but came to Washington to attend medical school at Georgetown. The gig gave him some spending money.

Bernie was a charming and talented guy.  He did this sketch of Bernice on the back of his business card. They were married on November 4, 1936.

When Bernie graduated from Georgetown, he accepted a commission in the Medical Corps Reserves and was called into active service in April of 1941 in the territory of Hawaii. Not knowing this trip would be much, much longer than anticipated, they rented out their house, climbed into their car and drove to San Francisco, stopping along the way to take in Old Faithful and other sights out West.

In California, they were stalled for weeks waiting for a transport ship. They killed some time in Los Angeles where they met movie stars like Marlene Dietrich thanks to an MGM studio pass Bernie had scored from his musical connections. A diary mentions lunch with "Spencer and Gable,"  and an encounter with Charlie Chaplin and his family at the bird zoo in Catalina. Bernie remembers chatting up Chaplin and being allowed to take a photo with Pauline Goddard.  (Boy, I wish I could find that shot.)

Finally a Matson Line ship became available. Bernice and Bernie arrived in Honolulu in early July. Back then travelers were traditionally greeted by Hawaiian women with armfuls of leis, but they also saw waves of P-40s and bombers dipping their wings to say "hello" to the new crew. As the ship docked, the Royal Hawaiian band played "Aloha Oe" and other native songs while crowds below shouted and waved. 

After watching a sunset near Diamond Head, Bernie wrote "It was like having walked all your life in a haze and in muck- then suddenly breaking through the mist and seeing a great panorama in front of you."

The attack came just before 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning, Bernie's day off. A neighbor woke them by pounding on the door and shouting. Bernie, in shock, turned on the radio to confirm the unbelievable news. A broadcast of a church service was soon interrupted with the announcement:  "The island of Oahu is under enemy attack...all officers report...all citizens stay off the streets. Keep calm. Everything is under control."  Bernie got dressed, and still feeling dazed, left for Tripler with the captain who lived next door. On the way they saw billows of black smoke rising from the harbor, and three low flying planes. The news became all too real.

At the hospital, the scene was pure frenzy. Wounded civilians and soldiers, both dead and alive poured in all morning.  One victim was carried in on a street sign. A bomb dropped so close to the hospital that a convalescing patient died from shrapnel wounds. Many young soldiers urged Bernie to take care of others before themselves. Towards midday Bernie went home to collect his surgeons' tools, but a crowd stood in the street, blocking the way. It took a moment for Bernie to realize that the front of his house was almost demolished. Most of the windows had been shattered by shrapnel.

The concussion of a bomb, which fell across the street from their home, had knocked Bernice to the floor, but amazingly, she only suffered a twisted ankle. Bernie found his wife at a neighbor's house and took her with him back to the hospital.  Bernice washed instruments and cut bandages while Bernie went back to the surgery. They worked through the day and most of the night.

I don't have a photo of the hospital, but I found the photo below with Bernie's things. He was an avid photographer so he may have taken this himself; there are no official markings on the back.

Almost all of the Army wives and children would leave the islands as soon as possible, but my grandmother wanted to stay despite the curfews, blackouts, and a new life which included gas masks always at the ready.

Bernice became a censor at the post office and volunteered with the Red Cross.

By February 1942,  she wrangled a full time position as a paid social worker for the Home Service of the Red Cross. Her evacuation was deferred.

Bernie and Bernice also organized a theater group and gave performances throughout the islands before the USO made the scene. (I wonder if she was rethinking her decision in this shot taken in their living room probably around Christmas of 1942.)

Bernice witnessed both the beginning and the end of the war first hand.  My mother told us that she was the only woman correspondent to cover the war in the South Pacific, and that she was aboard the USS Missouri when the Japanese surrendered.

 After the war, Bernice remained on the islands helping the Red Cross pick up the pieces of many altered lives.  She never lost her love for all things Hawaiian and stayed overseas for twenty years.

Take Me Out

In 1929 my mother Bebe and her little brother Roger Jr lived in the Broadmoor Apartments on Connecticut Avenue. Their parents were the building's first managers, and that brought unexpected perks. Bebe remembered a lot of Senators at the Broadmoor. Not so much the politicians, but  real live baseball players. In the house! The whole family got free passes for games at Griffith Stadium,  and the great pitcher Walter Johnson and my grandfather Roger became friends when he came back to coach the team. 

In 1972, we lost our team to Texas, and my parents never converted to Baltimore.  I don't love sports, but I do like the pace of baseball which allows plenty of time for eating and talking in between (and during) innings.  I will always have a warm spot for the "O's," but  I definitely miss Memorial Stadium where Earl Weaver tended his tomato plants.  If memory serves me, I think it was a dollar for a bag of peanuts on the way in and five for a bleacher seat, and I could always find my friend Dan Elwood commandeering an entire section with a bunch of friends and Budweisers.

Things have come full circle now with a team back in town and a new ball park on the Anacostia.  

Last year my son was lucky enough to score Nats tickets from a friend. He rode his bike to the ball park on a balmy Tuesday night, perhaps starting another tradition of keeping baseball in the family. 

Pre TV in Washington D.C.

Every time I go to the movies these days, I find myself paralyzed in front of the concessions. My feeble and admittedly geeze-ing brain refuses to take in the current rate of exchange of currency for sustenance. Five dollars for a soda ? And that yellow stuff that goes on the popcorn? Seriously. What is that?

Yes, things have technically improved since I was a kid, but back in the days of the movie palaces, going to see a film was an extraordinary experience. My parents, Bebe and George, remember paying 15 cents for a whole day of entertainment.

Here's a visual glimpse of Washington DC's movie scene from local film maker Jeff Krulik.

 In 1925 when Bebe was eight and her little brother Roger was four, they would free range to the Tivoli at 14th and Park Road every Sunday and spend the whole afternoon in the theater.

Her favorites were the Westerns because she “loved watching all those horses run around.” She says Tom Mix was popular, but personally she didn’t think he was all that cute.

She also has a hazy memory of walking with her dad from Mozart Place to the Ambassador Theater on 18th and Columbia Road to see Al Jolson in the first "talkie"in 1928.

George remembers the three theaters near him on H Street NE: The Princess, The Apollo and The Empire. They were smaller, plainer theaters, but he could walk to all of them. He caught all the great silent films with Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton and remembers the piano player creating the mood. He also was into Tom Mix and all those horses.

The Apollo from Library of Congress

When Bebe moved to the Broadmoor Apartments in Cleveland Parkin 1929, she hit the jack pot getting free passes to the Avalon Theater on Connecticut Avenue. Bebe and Roger would take a lunch, get on the streetcar (or strap on their roller skates) and spend the whole day on the theater, especially in the summer, when more houses were one of the few places in town with air conditioning.

Meanwhile George had moved uptown to Macomb Street in Cleveland Park in 1928. He offset the cost of  his "new" car, a used Model T,  by charging his sister Catherine and her friends Rose Papadeis and Julia Kekenes a quarter each to drive them downtown to the Earle on 13th Street which later became  the Warner Theater.

George and Rose on Macomb

Bigger venues like the Warner's might have had a live vaudeville show before the movie and charged a whopping 35 cents.

Bebe remembers seeing Cab Calloway at the Capitol which was around the corner from the Earle near 14th and F Street in the National Press building. In 1963, when the Capitol closed,  George’s buddy, Blackie Auger bought some of the theater's furnishings for his restaurant Blackie's House of Beef including wrought iron balustrades and a large painting of Cupid. According to his wife Lulu's memoir, when Blackie was sixteen, burning a hole in Cupid's belly button with a cigarette seemed like a good idea at the time. He bought the painting and hoped to make amends with his conscience by having it restored.

Bebe and George say the film that made the biggest impression on them was "Gone With the Wind." At that point, they were a very young married couple with two small children. Getting out to see a show was problematic. Sometimes they would steal away after the children were asleep which may have worked occasionally, but legend has it that my brother and sister woke up hungry once and decided to fix themselves grilled cheese sandwiches. In the toaster.

My Mother Slept Here (and here)

I don't know where exactly George Washington slept around here, but I do know that my mother, Bebe Calvert, gave him a run for the money. Her family moved at least eight times while she was growing up, and all of those addresses were within the confines of the District of Columbia starting with the old Sibley Hospital on North Capitol Street where she was born in November 1917.

For my mother's birthday, I planned a tour of all her former residences, but first we needed sustenance. We stopped in at my favorite place for soul food, the Hitching Post, where we had a fabulous fried chicken feast. The proprietors, Mr. and Mrs. Carter, have held the fort here since 1968, and their place feels more like a home than a restaurant.


After the birthday lunch, we headed just down the street to 1346 Quincy Street in Petworth. The family lived in a four bedroom row house, squeezing in Bebe parents, her grandfather Papa Bailey, two teenaged aunts, Mary Bess and Johnnie Pearl, plus a lodger to help make ends meet. The grand total was seven people. One bathroom.

Built in 1918, these homes were fairly new when my family lived there in 1922. As far as I can tell this was the second place the family lived- the first being 2107 F Street-"near the gas works" according to my mother. This picture was probably taken in 1919.  George Washington University owns the building now.

At that time Bebe's father Roger was running "Calvert Commercial Service "opening doors" for newcomers in Washington. Roger came to town in 1916 to work for Senator Sharp Williams of Mississippi so he felt he knew the ropes.  The company motto?  "We do not pretend to know everyone, but we know someone who does." The office was at 1402 F Street and in a letter home, he mused to his mother that he could walk two blocks to the White House and see the President, but couldn't get away to visit the family in Mississippi. He wasn't kidding. He goes on to mention a photograph of President Harding holding my mother's hand taken in August of 1921.  I sure wish I had that picture.

My mother's little brother Roger Jr. was born in late November of that year also at Sibley Hospital. They called him "Sonny."

The family was outgrowing F Street when they moved up to Petworth and then on to Mt Pleasant where they would settle for a few years. Sonny was baptized at Mt Pleasant M.E. Church by Brother Ray. Their next address, 1370 Irving Street is now billed as "new luxury condos." They moved again when Roger got a job managing the Argonne Apartments, built in 1921 at 1629 Columbia Road. That building is still standing. The family lived in two different apartments there.

They also lived in the Chalfont which was built in 1918 on Argonne Place. Bebe remembers lying in her bed at night and hearing the lions roar at the National Zoo down the hill.

In early 1929 their address was 2606 Motzart Place. The house is still there although the big side yard where my mom climbed a tree has given over to a parking lot just like Joni Mitchell predicted.



Bebe remembers there was a fireplace angled between the living room and the hall to the kitchen, and that she could walk out her back door to HD Cooke Elementary which was on the other side of the block.

Cutting across town we passed by the rather grand Broadmoor on Connecticut Ave. My grandparents were the first managers when it opened in 1929 just before the Big Crash. They lived in at least 4 different apartments there. (Is anybody keeping count?) Here's Bebe at age 16 hanging out with a few friends in front of the lamp post.

And here she is a few years later. (I didn't realize I took this picture in almost the same spot until I found the old one.

Back out on the Avenue, I thought we were finished when Bebe started waving at yet another building on the corner of Connecticut and Ordway. I veered over to the curb and found out that she lived there until she graduated from Western High School in 1935, and it was from this place that my mother left home for good and started another series of moves around DC. This time with my father.

Long Lost Cousin Nat and Bernie Schultz

F. Bernard Schultz in Hawaii

Strange and interesting things happen now that we have the internet to connect the planet. For example, a man in Tennessee recently decided to trace his family history- specifically his grandfather. He did not know very much about him- only that he had abandoned the marriage, leaving his grandmother to raise her children alone.  In fairly short order, however, the man landed here, on this very site. Why? Because my grandmother Bernice was the one his grandfather Bernie ran off with.

Here's the story from my new found "cousin" Nat:

"As you know, I didn't know much at all about my grandfather, barely his name. After my father's death, I decided to take a shot in the dark and googled Frank Bernard Schultz. Surprisingly, the first link was to a memorial from the Mamiya Medical Heritage Center in Hawaii. The article spoke extensively of his professional history, but very little about his personal history.

After reading that article, I went back to the same Google link pages and came across your Pearl Harbor tribute to your grandmother. Wondering how the name Schultz was related to her, I read the article and found out that the two of them had been married. Seeing that your last name was the same as the one in the Mamiya article, I decided to take a chance and to "introduce" myself to you to see if you might know about our family history. "

And so I found my new (step) cousin, Nat and was able to pass along not only information, but also letters and souvenirs from his long lost grandfather who had spent all of World War Two as an army doctor in Hawaii.

Dr Schultz was quite a character. Tall and handsome, he was an accomplished musician who played with Paul Whitman and once had his band Bernie Schultz and the Crescent Orchestra. (You can hit the link and listen. Sometimes the internet just kills me.) My grandmother met him when he played tea dances at the Broadmoor.

Bernie was also a talented actor, artist and writer, and quite the lothario.

He left my grandmother in the wake of multiple affairs and married a third time before his death so Nat and I had one more thing in common.

What do you get for Anniversary #72?

My parents have been married 71 years. SEVENTY ONE YEARS. They met when my father's classmate Carl Langmark brought George over to the Broadmoor where my mother Bebe lived. The boys were both juniors at Western, and Bebe was a sophomore. Just fifteen and love struck, she never forgot the exact date. April 8, 1932. The two of them soon ditched their friends for alone time which Bebe accomplished with free passes to the movies at the Avalon which used to be called the Chevy Chase Theater.

George and Bebe eloped on Memorial Day 1935. George’s buddy, Fred came along as a witness, and  drove them up to Elkon, Maryland  in a 1932 Desoto convertible. (My dad has a thing about cars.) Bebe was only 17, and George had just turned 18. Besides the hurdles of being too young and pregnant, my mother was Not Greek. The deck was stacked, but they were both determined.

 As a wedding present, Fred took everyone out for fried chicken which set him back $1.25 per person. Then the newlyweds snuck back -each to their own homes- to figure out what to do next. About a week later, the jig was up.  A friend of the family in Havre de Grace saw their wedding listed in a Baltimore paper, and called my grandfather Pete. George was thrown out of the house. Pete asked the Greek community not to hire or help his son in hopes that George would come to his senses, but my dad did not give up. He had a job, plus their friend and matchmaker Carl Langmark arranged for them stay at his house that summer while his parents were away.

When my older brother, Peter was born that fall, they named him after Papou which was the tradition in Greek families. (Yes, that’s the deal with all the same names) George took the baby to see his parents, but Bebe wasn’t included on this visit or any other. She had to wait in the car.

It wasn’t until after my sister was born that my Papou relented. He would come to the Hollywood Inn where they lived, and help George and Bebe make hamburgers for the weekend customers. Sometime after my brother Roger was born, my Yiya finally threw in the towel and accepted Bebe, too. Three children and six years later.

Bebe took it all in stride. She was and is the peacemaker. She did whatever it took to help everyone get along, and to make George’s life easier.  I know it has not been easy all these years, but they are still together.

Two years ago, I remember commenting to my father on the longevity of their relationship. He was standing on the front porch with a broom in his hand and I was below him raking the yard.   Looking off into the distance, he wistfully said "You know, your mother is my best friend." Then he paused to let this thought sink in. He rarely said anything so sentimental and  I was a bit stunned. "Well, that's so nice, Dad," I managed to mumble, feeling a little choked up.

Then, putting things into perspective with his irrepressible sense of humor, he said " Of course,  all of my other friends are dead." And he finished sweeping off the porch.

Happy Anniversary, you two!