I come by my love of history genetically. My mother is what I think of as an amateur historian. She’s more than just a buff, but she doesn’t have a history degree. She also was always trying to get us kids to participate in her hobbies, which meant that we got dragged to all manner of cultural events—operas, classical music concerts, museums, dry movies we didn’t want to see, historic villages, battle reenactments. I chafed at a lot of these things as a kid, but at some point I kind of got into and learned to appreciate them, too.
My mother’s particular interest is in American military history (which makes sense given that I had an ancestor in every major American war). When I was a teenager, she was particularly interested in the Civil War. We visited battlefields and cemeteries, we sat through the Ken Burns documentary a few times, she passed me a bunch of books to read, and we even wound up at the centennial celebration for Grant’s Tomb in 1997. I’d say this is probably where my interest in Victorian/Gilded Age America comes from.
I moved to New York City almost ten years ago, and developed a kind of obsessive interest in the history of the place I call home. Part of that was timing; the city was still reeling from 9/11 when I moved to Manhattan, and it was hard not to be conscious of history. But New York is a very forward-looking city, which seems to be constantly trying to make itself bigger and better and shinier, so it’s not as in touch with its past as some other places. (Boston, for example; you can’t walk more than a block without tripping over a plaque or a monument.) So you have to dig for it a little. But history is there if you go looking. Which I like to do.
The inspiration for Across the East River Bridge comes from that place. I knew almost nothing about Brooklyn when I moved here in 2006, but that was easily rectified. I took historical walking tours and did a lot of wandering. I visited historic sites and got lost in Green-Wood Cemetery. I read a lot about Brooklyn in the latter half of the nineteenth century, particularly just before it was incorporated into the rest of the city. There’s a lot of really fascinating history there. Plus, one of the great things about Brooklyn is that you can walk by a row of old brownstones that still have the original gas lamps out front, and it feels a little like taking a walk back in time.
The Brill House, the fictional museum in Across the East River Bridge, is (fictionally) located on Orange Street in Brooklyn Heights, which is also where Plymouth Church of the Pilgrims is (actually) located. Plymouth Church was Henry Ward Beecher’s pulpit, and Beecher was involved in a scandal that is linked to the events of my novel. The two main characters of the story, Finn and Troy, live in the present day and study history. They end up working together to solve the mystery of a murder that took place in 1878. The murder victims are also fictional, but, as we see through journal entries, they interacted with a lot of real historical figures. Most prominent in the novel is Victoria Woodhull, who was a women’s rights advocate—and kind of a troublemaker—who lived at this time. Woodhull was the first to publicize details of an affair Beecher had with one of his parishioners, which is the connection there, but Woodhull was also an advocate for free love and, to a point, sexual liberation. (She was also the first woman to run for president. Seriously, she’s a fascinating figure.)So, Across the East River Bridge is my possibly nerdy little tribute to the history of Brooklyn. It’s also a ghost story and a mystery and a love story. It’s... complicated. But it was a ton of fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it, too.
You can buy the book here. Or you can check out the Special Features page which has historical background, suggested reading, and a bunch of photos.
Kate McMurray
www.katemcmurray.com
@katemcmwriter
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