Pushkin

The Grand Crystal Teeru, on the 8th floor of Wanamaker's department store in Philadelphia,

was a local institution in the 1920s and 30s, with its fine dining and spectacular chandeliers.

On this particular day, the Teeru was receiving another local institution, Miss Anna Marie Jarvis,

one of Philadelphia's most famous citizens. She was friends with the owner himself, John Wanamaker.

The server may well have recognised her as they nervously approached her table.

And what can I bring you, Miss Jarvis?

I notice you have a special Mother's Day salad.

Yes, indeed, Miss Jarvis.

You may bring me there.

Of course, Miss Jarvis.

A Mother's Day salad, the perfect way to celebrate the second Sunday in May,

no doubt when treating Wanam's beloved mother to a fine luncheon at the Grand Crystal Teeru.

The elegantly presented salad was brought out and set in front of Miss Jarvis.

With an icy calm, she rose to her feet, picked up the plate, and dumped the salad on the Teeru floor.

She then took out her purse, left payment on the table, and swept out across the opulent dining room.

Every Mother's Day lunch would have stopped.

Forks paused midway to mouths.

Every eye in the Grand Crystal Teeru would have been following her as she left.

Well, there goes Miss Anna Marie Jarvis, the founder of Mother's Day.

I'm Tim Harford, and you're listening to cautionary tales.

It's never easy to be a Mother, but for 19th century mothers, it was brutal.

...