The press release would read something like this:
CHESTERTOWN -- Richard O'Neill and Jan Macdonald, owners of the Imperial Hotel in historic downtown Chestertown, plan to hold their fourth annual July 4th birthday party in honor of their Airedale terrier, Katie. More than 80 guests and neighbors -- all with their own dogs -- are expected to attend the barbecue and social event of the young summer.
"It's become a garden party," says Macdonald, who, with her husband, bought the renovated hotel four years ago. "People usually just call me 'Kate's Dad,'" says O'Neill.
Last year, 80 people with 40 dogs attended the "garden party" in the courtyard of the Imperial Hotel. No disturbances were reported -- except there was one reported tiff between two dogs. "We all have our 'off' days," says neighbor Marsha Fritz, who was in attendance.
Her cat, who was not invited, watched the party from Ms. Fritz's front porch.
Those are some of your basic facts: Dog party. Check. Small-town social event. Check. Lower-case 'd' in "Macdonald." Check. Decent quotes. Check, check. Only thing left to cover is the other stuff.
Love, for starters.
In the English courtyard of the Imperial Hotel on High Street, Dick O'Neill and Jan Macdonald look at each other when they talk. Well, Dick does most of the talking and after 41 years together, Jan listens -- an experienced form of listening composed of equal parts skepticism and amusement. She either can't remember all the details of their first encounter or the dear man is simply embellishing for the visitor. He's smoking a Honduran cigar and flicks the spent match into the lovely garden and then mumbles something about the match being bio-degradable.
Dick wears a Foster's Lager visor; Jan is very British. There's no connection between the two facts. But it's amusing to see this Julie Andrews-ish woman hanging out with this Florida native who looks like he just left a dockside bar, with his jet-white mustache and social swagger. No boater is Dick, though. He's a retired sports car driver -- endurance races in Porsches and Camaros on serious tracks such as Watkins Glen in upstate New York. And all those years of racing, Jan Macdonald was in his pit crew, checking his timing. His racetrack girl.
She calls him Poppy. He calls her Spark. They met in a bar in 1961: Chappie's on Long Island. Dick was there with a friend. Jan was there with a "friend." Then, a commotion and Dick got bumped. See Dick tell the man off. Don't you think that was a childish remark? Jan said to this Dick person. Said it in her British accent. Then she left the bar, leaving Dick to ask himself a very crucial question: Who was THAT? And its sister thought: I better find out.
Forty-one years later, here they sit with their very own hotel in Chestertown, where people get their newspapers at Scottie's Shoe Store, drink coffee and gossip at the Play It Again Sam cafe, or boast about their schooner Sultana -- a replica of a British revenuer built by a lot of local money and local volunteers. The Sultana is a beautiful creature.
Chestertown is also a town worried about a proposed Wal-Mart, a town that closes up by 4:30 p.m., a place where people have their second and third homes, a place where a visitor will say, "I could live here," then does. It's a place for retirement or re-invention. A little party town. Dog City.
"People," says Marsha Fritz, "deserve a place they love."
Party town
The owners of the Imperial Hotel have two Airedales: Katie and Nonnie. But July 4 is Katie's birthday, so that's the excuse for the party. The town has its mammoth "Tea Party Festival" on Memorial Day. Chestertown had its own revolutionary tea party in 1774, but Boston's was a tough sedition act to follow. For a few years, the town threw a "First Porch Party" but that party got too big for its britches. Chestertown abhors a party vacuum, so the Imperial's small dog party has become quite the social event.
The invitations' envelopes sometimes are addressed just to dogs. Although the Imperial Hotel's brochure is clear -- "Sorry, no pets are allowed" -- the Fourth of July is a doggie Woodstock. Dick O'Neill, forever with a doggie pickup bag in his back pocket, claims the local canines are impeccably curbed. As for any coupling among the 40 dog guests at a given party, it's a party, isn't it?
Prior to this year's affair, on an eventless Monday, Katie the Airedale digs in the garden for a cool spot to nest. Her back leg shakes from arthritis -- she'll be 11 on July 4 -- but otherwise she is sturdy and well-plucked. The interview with her owners starts acting like an interview:
Q: Name three things special about an Airedale.
A: 1. They take a long time to grow up. (Jan)
2. Their sense of humor. "You can actually watch them laugh." (Jan again)
3. They are very protective. (Dick)
End of Airedale discussion.
Dick offers his guest a Diet Coke in a hotel glass with spectacular hotel ice. He gives a tour of the hotel's rooms and given the guest's expert knowledge of historic architecture, preservation and restoration, the response in each case was: "Nice room." This is a town, after all, where the historical society is sometimes referred to as the hysterical society.
People had other lives before arriving in Chestertown (population: unchanged) but settled here to settle something inside them. Re-invention is an over-used term but suits. You move to Chestertown to belong to some new place, to be yourself in a new place, to fit in yet again. Money helps. Or you attend or work at venerable Washington College and contribute to Chestertown's collegiate tint. Or you are originally from Kent County and don't need an invitation.
For Dick and Jan, having a dog party was their way of introducing themselves to the town. If one runs a hotel and attendant restaurant (Moroccan Lamb and Vegetable Soup, for starters. Then, the Grilled Wild Columbia River Salmon), one does not have loads of time to socialize off-campus. So, Dick and Jan, newcomers, launched the dog party idea. People coming to them. Their chef prepares a barbecue for the guests: customers, neighbors in the historic district. In turn, the guests bring enough chewy toys to last Katie well into her afterlife.
There is adult drink and, guessing here, the aroma of Dick's cigar. Small talk of dogs, maybe larger talk of politics or hometown gossip, Wal-Mart talk, discussion of a professional river keeper coming to help clean up the Chester River, maybe talk of the house on the water selling for $3.9 million. Marsha Fritz, neighbor, worked on the house and, in 1984, completed work on the Imperial Hotel as the project architect. She has the 20-pound cat thatwatches Katie's party from the front porch.
Fritz lives two feet from the hotel property. When asked to report last week on any activity at the Imperial Hotel, she divulged: "The roofers are leaving."
After the news, she graciously took 20 minutes to talk about anything other than dog parties. For instance, she hates pigeons. But don't all architects? Fritz mentions the old theater next to the Imperial; she worked on that project, too. Resident novelist John Barth's house is also on her resume, but she still can't bring herself to call him by his widely known nickname, Jack. And there was much talk on other subjects, as if the people talking were at a party.
'Invitation Only'
Marsha Fritz, sans cat, will be at the Fourth of July party at the Imperial Hotel on High Street.
Dick and Joan McCown and their three-legged Lakeland terrier, Ms. Dunnie, also plan to attend. Newspapers once dubbed Ms. Dunnie "the ambassador of Chestertown." The appellation stuck.
John and Marcy Parker, who run the Parker House bed-and-breakfast, will drop by. "People just sit around. No speeches. No big deal," says John.
Other friends are invited, too. Maybe even the roofers.
Katie the Airedale will be in a tutu for the party; there's photographic evidence she is dressed up for the occasion. Maybe Dick O'Neill will talk about his racing days or career in the cosmetics business. And Jan Macdonald, the party's British host, will listen with amusement, while keeping an eye on the birthday girl.