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| Fitzgerald Home Montgomery, Al |
When I arrived at the home as I entered the foyer I noticed not only was it a museum it was sublet into apartments, which in a way disappointed me but nonetheless was still a building they once called home. As we entered we were greeted by an intelligent yet down to earth young man who spoke to us regarding how far we traveled and what struck our interest in the Fitzgeralds. We looked around in the front room of the museum and waited as a few other guest arrived for the tour. The tour began with a short movie about how Zelda and Scott met and a brief story of their lives and how the home was saved from demolition in 1986. The memorabilia the home held was grand and insightful. There were, photos, family heirlooms, books and letters from the couples past.
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Typewriter in the home and Tattoo of a fan As I read the letters from Zelda to Scott I noticed their tone seemed to change over the years what was once "Darling my Love", turned into just "Dearest". In a letter to Scott, Zelda wrote: .....I love the Sunday in Montgomery with all the people on their porches and the cars all full of children and those augmented Sunday families... I love walking home when the lights get tangled in the dusk and the houses seem to be awaiting some gay reception... I'm sorry I find difficulty in simplicity, but I would be happier if you were here... Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald was once a joyful, carefree, adventurous woman was now labeled a flapper, a fool and madwoman. In the home I felt bored, like I was waiting on someone to come entertain me. I kept catching myself looking out the windows as if the postman was bringing me a long awaited package or letter. As the curator talked with us about how Zelda's eyes had changed in photos from several bouts of shock therapy. I felt Zelda's pain, loss and sadness. I related to her moving back home to raise her child, to be in a place where everything was once normal and happy. But she wasn't the same young girl she once was, she was a mother, a celebrity and a wife to a man who expected her to be his fairy tale. And when she wasn't he became unhappy, distant, a drunk and unfaithful. Eventually Zelda and Scott separated, on December 21st, 1940, after not seeing each other for over a year, Scott died of a heart attack, while living in Hollywood, California with his current mistress. |
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| Photo of Zelda and Scott |
The next few years after Scott's passing, Zelda suffered several mental breakdowns, she was now living with her mother. Zelda always wanted to be famous in her own right, as a writer, dancer or painter. She wrote some and painted as a hobby, but when Zelda couldn't stop the pain with booze anymore she tried to erase it from her memory and admitted herself to a psychiatric hospital for electroshock therapy, where she eventually died in a tragic fire on March 10th, 1948. Much like her life, her death seemed to be a tragic novel written for it's entertainment.
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| inside the Fitzgerald home The trip to the museum was a a great insight into their lives and history. I plan to return to it one day when I have more time to read the several letters and manuscripts posted through out the area. |
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| Me outside the home. The sign was built from bricks from Zelda's childhood home. |
** although much of this story is based on facts, some of it is also from my personal experience and opinion. So don't sue me if you think differently**
