Anyone who has waited in a Christmas line for the Walnut Room's Great Tree can attest that Chicago's loyalty to Marshall Field's is fierce. Dayton-Hudson even had to take out advertising around town to apologize for changing the Field's hallowed green bags. And with good reason--the store and those who ran it shaped the city's streets, subsidized its culture and heralded its progress. The resulting commercial empire dictated wholesale trade terms in Calcutta and sponsored towns in North Carolina, but its essence was always Chicago. So when the Marshall Field name was retired in 2006 after the stores were purchased by Macy's, protest slogans like "Field's is Chicago" and "Field's: as Chicago as it gets" weren't just emotional hype. Many still hope that name will be resurrected like the city it helped support during the Great Fire and the Great Depression. Until then, fans of Marshall Field's can celebrate its history with this warm look back at the beloved institution.

Because Door County received its name from "Death's Door," the perilous strait with more freshwater shipwrecks than anywhere else in the world, it should be no surprise that the idyllic county has plenty of ghostly history. In the company of storyteller Gayle Soucek, meet lighthouse keepers whose sense of duty extends beyond the grave. Catch a glimpse of the phantom ship Le Griffon, never seen for more than a moment since it sailed through a crack in the ice in 1679. And it is not just the waters of Door County that carry the freight of haunted tales--Country Road T has its share of spooks, bizarre beasts have caused disturbances in the woods and there are whispered rumors that infamous gangster Al Capone added to the county's stock of ghosts through a handful of brutal murders, including an ex-girlfriend and two unacknowledged children.

Befitting its role as Wisconsin's thumb, Door County has its own unique pulse. It is the idyllic paradise "north of the tension line," which sends many unsuspecting tourists spiraling into an addiction that lands them in a summer home. It is also the "Door of the Dead," which some historians blame for more shipwrecks than any other body of fresh water in the world. The variety of nature's splendors and terrors is matched by the cast of characters that has risen up among them. In Door County Tales, these characters are given free reign, which seems only proper in a place where one might walk out of a restaurant and see goats grazing on the roof.