 
Her deep steam whistle blasted and the silver boat
slid from under the Jefferson Barracks Bridge, a
hundred feet below the limestone bluff where Mazie
Krebs waited with a bottle of Dom Perignon and a
slice of foie gras. Mazie had created every detail of
the streamlined giant, the rounded bow that seemed
to inhale the eddies of the broad Mississippi, the
sheathing of metal over the huge side wheels as smooth
as the rear fender skirts of the 1940 Lincoln Zephyr in
which she sat. She spent most of her salary to payments
for the convertible, but she had learned while traveling
the vaudeville circuit with her mother to value objects
of transport. Mazie's riverboat and her car were equally
curvaceous. The S. S. Admiral and the woman who
designed her were a study in contrast. Mazie Krebs
was five foot four. She had large, dark eyes, and a
taught, dancer's figure.
The whistle blast had interrupted her pencil sketch
showing the Admiral in an improbable stand on her
stern in downtown St. Louis, six feet taller than the Bell
Telephone building.
Mazie closed her sketchbook and gripped the cold
champagne bottle between her knees. She loosened
the wire, then heard the pop as bubbles foamed down
the neck of the bottle onto her bare legs and the maroon
leather car seat. Tempted to drink straight from the bottle,
she composed herself, pulled a monogrammed pewter
flute from her glove compartment and poured. Conden-
sation collected on the flute while the foam settled. After
one lady-like sip, letting the flavor settle under her tongue,
Mazie downed the glass. Soon the Admiral would follow
the channel almost against the bluff and disappear from
her view. She spread some of the paté onto a cracker.
Captain John Streckfus had invited her on today's trial
run, but Mazie Krebs, a girl from south St. Louis, had
always followed her instincts. After a brief time at Wash-
ington University's Fine Arts department, she forfeited
her scholarship to become a fashion illustrator for
Famous-Barr department store. Several years later she
started her own syndicated but short-lived comic strip,
Cindy of the Hotel Royale. Cindy, a brunette like Mazie,
was one of the few funny paper heriones of the roaring
twenties to work for a living. Mazie soon took another
job with the Taylor-Rebholtz advertising display company,
which had Streckfus Steamers as a client. She worked
on their account before going to Chicago to design for
the 1933 Chicago World's Fair. When Joseph Streckfus,
president of the company, visited the fair, he saw Mazie's
modern work and hired her to design the interior of the
President. Although the President was the first river
steamer built entirely of steel, her contours were from the
days of Mark Twain. Only inside could Mazie use round
glass, powder blue leather, and chrome. The result was a
gingerbread boat with a chrome and glass soul. But the
vessel enabled the Streckfus family to make enough
money during the Depression to eventually build
the Admiral.
Streamlining promised a future that would be gleaming
and clean--an escape from the drudgery of the thirties,
and Mazie was an inspired disciple.
Onto Page 2
Maggie has deleted the site, so
I have removed the link within the
tag....thanks! ;o)
No part of this story is to leave this site
under any circumstance. It is used with
permission from the writer, Al Gowan.
Thanks Al. ©Maiden Voyage.
Backgrounds and images created by me
(©Fiddlinsue). Background html code was
provided by Liz from Beyond the Horizon.
Thanks Liz. Image ©image-cafe.net (linkware)
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