Ideas and technology and politics and journalism and history and humor and some other stuff.
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"Greetings from Missouri."
August 9, 1962
Bill
This card is being mailed from a town which has my name–Seymour. If we’re lucky, the postmark will show it clearly. It is being mailed for me by the head of a school in a town near it. He is at the economic workshop I’m attending.
Dad
Tags: Bill Brandwein, Seymour Brandwein
William Faulkner: novelist, whoremonger. (Image by Carl van Vechten.)
Some search engine keyphrases bringing traffic to Afflictor this week:
Afflictor: Getting positive feedback from the people since 2009. (Image by Peter van der Sluijs.)
"Makes a great unusual gift." (Image by Joe Mabel.)
Makes a great unusual gift in original case circa 1900s an extensive collection of large beetles and bugs. Very interesting.
There’s more going on in this insane 1967 mélange of exploitation flick, teen movie and sex-ed film than can easily be summed up. Let’s just say “it may very well be the most important film you will ever see.” Not available on Netflix.
Derby women take a leap during the sport's first heyday in the 1950s, when it was a TV staple.
In addition to a million other things he’s done in his amazing career, the legendary journalist Frank Deford was a pioneering writer about roller derby. I’ve seen Five Strides on the Banked Track, his out-of-print book about the roller sport for sale online for anywhere from $55 to $700. That volume grew out of a 1969 Sports Illustrated article of the same name. Deford was fully aware of the feminist appeal of the pseudo-sport and its then-greatest star Ann Calvello, whom he profiled. An excerpt from the article about Calvello:
“‘The one time I really got hurt was in Honolulu. I was fighting this girl, and she must have gotten me with her fingernail. I didn’t even know it was my eye till all this blood came pouring out, so right away—this one time—I went to the doctor at the hospital, because eyes are the one thing I don’t want to fool around with. Well, the doctor took one look at me, with the blue hair, the blue lipstick, the red blood pouring out of my eye, the green-and-gold uniform, and he had to figure I was straight into Honolulu from outer space.’
Frank Deford was the editor of the short-lived, much-lamented sports daily, "The National." (Image by Bridgeport Public Library.)
Little escapes Calvello. The acid comment she spills forth is the product of her wit and is not related to the meanness that she exhibits on the track. She is certainly a leader by any standard, astrological or otherwise. As soon as she reaches the bar with her silver chalice she is in charge. She directs the conversation, sometimes two conversations at a time—the one she is dominating and the adjoining one that she overhears. She distributes nicknames to everybody. She outlaws shoptalk. ‘No skating talk while drinking’ is the first Calvello law.
While she is hardly just another pretty face, Calvello is still slim and attractively winsome after 20 years on the tour. She dresses exceptionally well and is able to get away with wearing youthful clothes that most women her age would be afraid of. Divorced many years ago from a former Derby referee, Ann also likes her men young. On the tour, in the company of Eddie Krebs, a wistful, temperamental Leo himself, Ann sparkled, particularly when the other skaters kidded Krebs that he was starting to look 40 and Calvello 20. Krebs, slim to start with, had lost almost 40 pounds on the tour. With his handsome, chiseled face, long page-boy hair and a haunting high-pitched giggle, he and the blue-haired, hoarse-throated Calvello made a couple that seemed straight out of an avant-garde French movie. It was the only tour romance.”
Tags: Ann Calvello, Eddie Krebs, Frank Deford
From the Voigt Lab site: "We are developing a basis by which cells can be programmed like robots to perform complex, coordinated tasks." (Image by Dr. Edwin P. Ewing, Jr. )
At Dailytech, Jason Mick has a smart article about scientists using E. Coli bacteria in the place of electriconic currents to operate microcomputers, which is the first time living organisms have been utilized in this way. An excerpt:
“In a newly published study in the journal Nature, Christopher A. Voigt, PhD, and his colleagues at the University of California San Francisco, demonstrated how intercellular communications between genetically modified E. Coli bacteria could act as a crude computer.
The result is that bacteria can be enslaved to become part of a hive mind computer, performing the will of a central controller. Professor Voigt describes, ‘We think of electronic currents as doing computation, but any substrate can act like a computer, including gears, pipes of water, and cells. Here, we’ve taken a colony of bacteria that are receiving two chemical signals from their neighbors, and have created the same logic gates that form the basis of silicon computing.’
Professor Voigt’s team is currently working towards building a bacteria computer capable of accepting commands in a formal language system, similar to how modern computers receive commands in assembly (translated to machine) language.”
Tags: Christopher A. Voigt, Jason Mick
An undated rendering of the debonair Joseph Boruwlaski. He grew to be 39 inches tall.
From Armand Maire Leroi’s 2005 book, Mutants: On Genetic Variety and the Human Body, a brief biographical sketch of Joseph Boruwłaski (1739–1837), a Polish-born man with dwarfism (likely the pituitary kind) who became an unlikely fixture in European royal courts:
“Joseph Boruwlaski died in his sleep on 5 December 1837 in the quiet English cathedral town of Durham. He had had a happy life, a rich life. Born into obscurity, he had achieved dizzying social heights. Famed for his conversation and his skill with the violin, he had known most of the crowned heads of Europe. Ennobled by the King of the Poles, he had also won the patronage of the Prince of Wales. He could call the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire his friends. He was an ornament of Durham, its council paid him merely to live there. He had married a noble beauty, raised a family and, when he died at the distinguished age of ninety-eight, had outlived nearly all his contemporaries. It was a graceful end to a remarkable life. For Joseph, le Comte de Boruwlaski, was not merely any Continental aristocrat exiled from his homeland. He was the last of the court dwarfs.”
Tags: Joseph Boruwlaski
“What’s wrong with education cannot be fixed with technology.” (Image by Matthew Yohe.)
In a 1993 Wired interview conducted by Gary Wolf, Steve Jobs discussed the intersection of technology and education. I think what he said then about education in America is just about as true now, which is sad because it speaks to how little progress we’ve made. An excerpt:
“Wired: Could technology help by improving education?
Steve Jobs: I used to think that technology could help education. I’ve probably spearheaded giving away more computer equipment to schools than anybody else on the planet. But I’ve had to come to the inevitable conclusion that the problem is not one that technology can hope to solve. What’s wrong with education cannot be fixed with technology. No amount of technology will make a dent.
It’s a political problem. The problems are sociopolitical. The problems are unions. You plot the growth of the NEA [National Education Association] and the dropping of SAT scores, and they’re inversely proportional. The problems are unions in the schools. The problem is bureaucracy. I’m one of these people who believes the best thing we could ever do is go to the full voucher system.
I have a 17-year-old daughter who went to a private school for a few years before high school. This private school is the best school I’ve seen in my life. It was judged one of the 100 best schools in America. It was phenomenal. The tuition was $5,500 a year, which is a lot of money for most parents. But the teachers were paid less than public school teachers – so it’s not about money at the teacher level. I asked the state treasurer that year what California pays on average to send kids to school, and I believe it was $4,400. While there are not many parents who could come up with $5,500 a year, there are many who could come up with $1,000 a year.
“Lincoln did not have a Web site at the log cabin where his parents home-schooled him, and he turned out pretty interesting.” (Image by Henry F. Warren.)
If we gave vouchers to parents for $4,400 a year, schools would be starting right and left. People would get out of college and say, ‘Let’s start a school.’ You could have a track at Stanford within the MBA program on how to be the businessperson of a school. And that MBA would get together with somebody else, and they’d start schools. And you’d have these young, idealistic people starting schools, working for pennies.
They’d do it because they’d be able to set the curriculum. When you have kids you think, What exactly do I want them to learn? Most of the stuff they study in school is completely useless. But some incredibly valuable things you don’t learn until you’re older – yet you could learn them when you’re younger. And you start to think, What would I do if I set a curriculum for a school?
God, how exciting that could be! But you can’t do it today. You’d be crazy to work in a school today. You don’t get to do what you want. You don’t get to pick your books, your curriculum. You get to teach one narrow specialization. Who would ever want to do that?
These are the solutions to our problems in education. Unfortunately, technology isn’t it. You’re not going to solve the problems by putting all knowledge onto CD-ROMs. We can put a Web site in every school – none of this is bad. It’s bad only if it lulls us into thinking we’re doing something to solve the problem with education.
Lincoln did not have a Web site at the log cabin where his parents home-schooled him, and he turned out pretty interesting. Historical precedent shows that we can turn out amazing human beings without technology. Precedent also shows that we can turn out very uninteresting human beings with technology.
It’s not as simple as you think when you’re in your 20s – that technology’s going to change the world. In some ways it will, in some ways it won’t.”
Tags: Abraham Lincoln, Gary Wolf, Steve Jobs
"I have the ultimate respect for women."
Hi I a male in my early forties, at present I am on a sexual journey to better understand woman and what turns them on, esp. orally. I thought I was quite educated on the subject, but I am not ashamed to say that I have a lot to learn.
When I tried to talk to women frankly, about what turns them on or asked for instructions on how to do a certain thing. I never felt like I was getting a straight answer, and unfortunately I’m afraid I’ve done the same thing to women when they have asked me similar questions. I assume we all wanted to be nice and was afraid that any advice or critique will hurt the others feelings.
A female friend of mine said, that a lot of what she learned about pleasing men came from knowledge that her gay male friends shared with her.
So I am looking for women who are bi or gay (if straight, one who really knows her body) but is comfortable sharing trade secrets, mostly oral.
Note: I do not want sex from you but an education. I am even open to a group of your female friends who would not mind sharing their pleasure zones and oral details.
I believe their many possibilities for pleasure besides intercourse. I have the ultimate respect for women. My goal is to get useful information and tips on how women think about sex.
The barter: can be a massage, financial advice, lite home repair or anything you thing is a reasonable trade.
“The aggressive determination of hippies to start a new society has made its mark upon San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury…” A clip (of poor visual quality) from a 1967 CBS News documentary about the onslaught of LSD and bell-bottoms in the Bay Area. Harry Reasoner does the honors and the Grateful Dead makes the scene. Joan Didion still has the best take on the so-called Summer of Love.
Tags: Harry Reasoner, The Grateful Dead
The spectre of the hangman didn’t diminish Clement Arthur Day’s appetite or sense of humor. The veteran, who had served General Custer, had a relatively jovial time on the day he was hanged for the brutal murder of his girlfriend in upstate New York. The execution took place in Utica, and the Brooklyn Daily Eagle filed a report about the unusual proceedings in its February 9, 1888 edition. An excerpt:
“Clement Arthur Day was hanged here this morning. He ate a hearty supper at 6 o’clock last evening, and at 12:15 called for shrimp salad, bologna sausage, bread and oranges, which were furnished and of which he ate heartily. Before this lunch he sang several songs, danced a jig and imitated the crowing of a cock, which being answered by some women prisoners in another portion of the jail pleased him immensely. At 12:39 he retired and was soon sleeping soundly. He did not awaken until 6:30 this morning when he arose complaining of a slight headache and a sour stomach and asked for a seidlitz powder.
This being furnished and taken, Day proceeded to make away with a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs, toast and coffee, and then practiced for a while on his guitar. At 7:30 he was shaved and dressed, ready for the expected visit of his spiritual adviser. He spoke lightly of his now rapidly approaching doom and asked that he be furnished with a substantial lunch before the march to the gallows began.
The Rev. E. Owen, Day’s spiritual comforter, arrived at 9:15 and was at once closeted with the condemned, who seemed the less nervous of the two. Just before the clergyman’s arrival Day announced his attention of making no remarks at the scaffold or to the press and walked down the corridor humming a lively tune. He was most particular about his dress and allowed a deputy to spend considerable time over him with a brush broom. During the brief interval before the reading of the death warrant the Rev. Mr. Owen offered prayer. He was followed by Day with an eloquent supplication in which the doomed man said he was not guilty of premeditated murder. Sheriff Batchelor then read the warrant, to which Day listened with a grin on his face. His arms were then pinioned and the march to the scaffold was begun. Day laughed at a reporter who slipped on the icy walk. Then the murderer mounted the platform with a firm tread. He even assisted in placing the noose under his chin and yawned during the operation. A brief prayer was said and the drop fell at 10:24 1/24 and nine minutes later he was pronounced dead. The neck was broken and the face not contorted. But twenty-four persons witnessed the execution.
The crime for which Day was executed was the murder of Josie Rosa Cross, near Boonville on the 8th of June last. The victim was the daughter of a respectable woman who resides in Rome. She met Day after having separated from her husband by mutual consent. She was prepossessing and well educated, having formerly an excellent reputation as a teacher of music. After residing with Day at different places for a year or so the couple moved in May last to the scene of the crime, where they resided with Day’s father, who was a lock tender on the Black River Canal. The girl’s mother wrote Josie that she was dying and wanted her at her bedside. The letter infuriated Day, who declared that it was a scheme to part him from Josie, but he finally consented to her going, threatening that if she did not return he would kill both her and her mother. On the morning of the date the crime was committed Josie started to walk to Boonville to mail a letter to her mother in reference to the proposed visit. Day left the house with her and when only a short distance from it threw his arm around her and with a large butcher knife stabbed her fourteen times in the breast and heart.”
Tags: Arthur Clement Day, General Custer, Josie Rosa Cross, Rev. E. Owen, Sheriff Batchelor
Manhattan parade goers display both American and Nazi flags in 1939.
A parade in New York City–what could be lovelier? Except this parade, which took place in Upper Manhattan in 1939, was a rally held by the German-American Bund organization to show support for Hitler’s Nazi Germany. As shocking as it may seem now, marchers carried both American and Nazi flags through city streets. Mayor Fiorello La Guardia denounced the parade and attendance was limited. But the group’s rally in Madison Square Garden in February 1939 reportedly drew 20,000. During that event, President Franklin D. Roosevelt was mocked and called “Frank D. Rosenfeld.” The German-American Bund ceased to exist soon after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, but it left a hateful if largely forgotten mark on the city.
Michael Crichton’s 1973 sci-fi and Western mash-up is the best kind of genre film, one that uses familiar conventions to ruminate on the unconventional. In the case of Westworld, a futuristic theme park is the setting for discussion about how unprepared we are for that moment when artificial intelligence surpasses the human kind.
Delos is a $1,000-a-day wonderland, filled with lifelike robots, that makes real the violent and sexual fantasies of (mostly male) American tourists. “The vacation of the future today,” the company promises, offering consumers the opportunity to engage in orgies in the Roman Empire, sword fights in Medieval times or shootouts in the 1880s Wild West. Two Chicago guys (James Brolin and Richard Benjamin) head to Westworld, where they encounter a plethora of mechanical varmints and strumpets who are programmed to lay down–in gunfights or sexually–for their human “betters.”
But the technology inside the robots has continually improved, and they’ve begun showing signs that they’re just about done taking orders. In fact, the Singularity is nearer than anyone knows, and the bots begin to bite back. Pretty soon, humans are on the wrong end of jousts and duels as the tin machines become killing machines.
One particularly ornery automated gunslinger (Yul Brynner) seeks out Benjamin’s mild-mannered tourist, a lawyer who thought some harmless adventure would help him through a rough patch after a bitter divorce. At this point, the film puts aside its big ideas in favor of a mano a roboto faceoff. But no matter how this particular battle plays out, the war seems to have an unavoidable conclusion, one infused with a knowledge that we will no longer be able to control or understand. As one dejected scientist says resignedly about the robots run amok: “They’ve been designed by other computers…we don’t know exactly how they work.”•
Tags: Alan Oppenheimer, James Brolin, Michael Crichton, Richard Benjamin, Yul Brynner
"I can't wake you up. You can wake you up." (Image by Roy Kerwood.)
Not long before he was murdered thirty years ago, John Lennon sat down along with wife Yoko Ono for a wide-ranging interview with Playboy. The couple had grown increasingly reclusive after nearly a decade of living a highly scrutinized public life. In the interview, Lennon comments on what he expected from life in the decade ahead. An excerpt:
“Playboy: What is the Eighties’ dream to you, John?
John Lennon: Well, you make your own dream. That’s the Beatles’ story, isn’t it? That’s Yoko’s story. That’s what I’m saying now. Produce your own dream. If you want to save Peru, go save Peru. It’s quite possible to do anything, but not to put it on the leaders and the parking meters. Don’t expect Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan or John Lennon or Yoko Ono or Bob Dylan or Jesus Christ to come and do it for you. You have to do it yourself. That’s what the great masters and mistresses have been saying ever since time began. They can point the way, leave signposts and little instructions in various books that are now called holy and worshiped for the cover of the book and not for what it says, but the instructions are all there for all to see, have always been and always will be. There’s nothing new under the sun. All the roads lead to Rome. And people cannot provide it for you. I can’t wake you up. You can wake you up. I can’t cure you. You can cure you.”
Tags: John Lennon
"I am looking for taxidermy animals or things of the like." (Image by Flominator.)
I am a photographer looking to make work with interesting objects. I am looking for taxidermy animals or things of the like. I am also looking for animal bones, furs, etc. I am also looking for human teeth or dentures.
I am located in the east village and can come to you or meet you somewhere.
Objects will of course be returned in the condition they were received. Your help will be greatly appreciated!
"I am looking for taxidermy animals or things of the like."
The Yellow River has provided an unlikely livliehood for local fishermen. (Image by Thomas Kraus.)
Jo Ling Kent of CNN has a creepy, fascinating report about Chinese fishermen in the bustling Gansu Province who are literally fishers of men–or women or children. The fishermen trawl the Yellow River for dead bodies of suicides and murder victims that have found their way to the water. After the bodies are identified, they sell the corpses to the immediate families of the deceased so they can give them proper burials. It’s a brisk business, but the embarrassed government is doing what it can to shut it down. (Thanks Reddit.) An excerpt:
“Wei Jinpeng has retrieved nearly 100 bodies per year since he started in 2003. The former pear farmer and his two sons dragged bodies ashore in their modest boat until recently, when the government put a stop to their work. Spooked by media attention, the fishermen have been warned to dock their boats and stop fishing for bodies.
‘I can’t go out on the water anymore,’ Wei told CNN at his home. ‘The police have already fined me several times. They don’t like what we’re doing. As for the money I used to make, I just don’t make it anymore.’
But Lun Lun takes his chances. He says there is still potentially big money to be made.
‘If I turned the body over to the local authorities, I got less money,’ he said. ‘If I contact families directly, I can be paid about 3000 yuan, much more than the government would offer.'”
Tags: Jo Ling Kent, Lun Lun, Wei Jinpeng
Kleine-Levin Syndrome is also known as "Sleeping Beauty Syndrome." (Image by Henry Maynell Rheam.)
It takes a lot more than a kiss to awaken Louise Ball, a 16-year-old British girl who suffers from a rare neurological disorder known as Kleine-Levin Syndrome, which causes her to sleep for ten days at a time. Her first episode of the illness, which more commonly afflicts males, occurred when she was 14. There is no cure. An excerpt from Frances Cronin’s BBC piece about her:
“When she wakes up, it takes her a few days to fully come round, and her body is quite stiff so her dancing is affected for while.
‘I’ve never really got upset about it but I sometimes do think ‘why me’, because I’ve always been a normal healthy person. But all of a sudden it happened and there’s no reason why it happened and that sometimes frustrates me.
‘But I’ve got used to it now and learnt to live with it. I’m a special kid.’
The change in behaviour before and during a sleep episode is one of the most upsetting things for Louisa’s parents, who take it in turns to remain with her. Doctors have told the family it’s crucial to wake Louisa once a day to feed her and get her to the bathroom.
But Lottie admits it can take a while to get her to come round. ‘I’ve tried before to literally force her to wake up but she just starts swearing and gets so agitated and aggressive.'”
Tags: Frances Cronin, Louisa Ball
It eventually lost out to VHS, but Betamax was the first home video cassette recorder that allowed you to tape shows off your television. Sony released the technology in 1975. Added bonus: Seinfeld’s fake mom is in the commercial.
“Mark is induced to sign his autograph.”
Taken from David W. Maurer’s The Big Con:
Tags: David W. Maurer, Soapy Smith
"Missing little piece on top." (Image by Oxyman.)
Wooden coffin. Good condition. Missing little piece on top. A carpenter can easerly make up the missing piece. Measurements are 7FT- Lx2FT -Wx2FT- H.
Riverboat slogan: "Home of the Big Name Bands."
The Riverboat was a formerly famous New York City nightclub that’s name was an homage to Mark Twain. It was housed in the Empire State Building and was a big deal during the 1960s and 1970s, when Lüchows was still legendary and the Auto-Pub was on the radar. The ticket stub bears the Riverboat’s catchphrase: “Home of the Big Name Bands.”
The club’s fortunes had flagged by the ’60s but were revived by Latvian immigrant restaurateur Jan Mitchell, who brought in amazing acts like Count Basie. Mitchell was known for rescuing faded franchises and had previously reinvigorated Lüchows and Longchamps. He ultimately sold his holdings to the Riese Organization in 1967. That company’s taste in music wasn’t quite as good, as you can see in this excerpt about the Riverboat from the April 19, 1976 New York magazine:
“Beginning next Monday, the Riverboat, New York’s most opulent nightclub (in the Empire State Building) is commencing an ambitious 10 week presentation of the great names that have been away from New York too long.
Aside to the current ‘Tie & Jackets Set’ who were dubbed ‘hippies’ or ‘Rock freaks’ in the ’60s–Remember Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees, Mary Wells, Gary Lewis & the Playboys, Sam Sham & the Pharaohs?? They’ll all appear at the Riverboat in sequence. No increase in the incredible Riverboat ‘Nite on the Town’ deal of All You Can Drink, Steak, Dancing, plus a concert by these legendary Golden Oldies greats. It’s only $11.95 plus $2.50 music charge for the whole deal. And just in time for Prom season. Call Miss Foy at the Riverboat 736-6210 for the details.”
Tags: Count Basie, Gary Lewis, Jan Mitchell, Mary Wells, Mickey Dolenz, Miss Foy
"At five o’clock yesterday afternoon, Bernard Duffy, a dissipated veteran soldier..."
New York City was a dangerous place in the years after the Civil War. Scoundrels were everywhere and it seemed that every other person was living under an alias–or several. Life was cheap and the bodies piled up. An account in the September 6, 1870 Brooklyn Daily Eagle explains how the War Between the States contributed belatedly to yet another casualty. Some descriptive words used in the first paragraph alone: dissipated, dilapidated, wretched, precarious, unfortunate and revolting. An excerpt:
“At five o’clock yesterday afternoon, Bernard Duffy, a dissipated veteran soldier, who resided in a small and dilapidated frame structure at No. 41 Little street, where his wife kept a wretched store, from the income of which she provided a precarious living for her unfortunate husband, self and several small children, was beaten to death in the most brutal and shocking manner by the husband of his sister, James Moody, a junkman, at the dwelling place of the latter, No. 43 Little street, under the most revolting circumstances, which, from investigations made by reporters of the Eagle, seem to be substantially as follows: During the late civil war, it is stated, the deceased entered the service of the United States as a private soldier, and upon enlistment, entrusted a portion of his bounty money to his then unmarried sister, now Mrs. Moody, for safe keeping, departing, himself, soon after for the front.
"Duffy after having several times vainly demanded his money from his sister, went to her house some time since and insisted on its payment."
Subsequently, the national struggle having ended, he received his discharge and returned to this city, where he again met his sister, who had, meanwhile, become the wife of Moody, who was reputed to be in comfortable pecuniary circumstances. Duffy, upon returning, also married and had become the father of three children. The two comparatively newly married couples subsequently took up their abodes in the above mentioned locality, and for a time lived in neighborly harmony. Finally, however, it seems Duffy after having several times vainly demanded his money from his sister, went to her house some time since and insisted on its payment, when, it is stated, she seized a club and drove him in the street, breaking one of his thumbs by the onslaught. The unfortunate soldier, who seems to have thereafter given himself to inebriety and to have been intoxicated at this time, then relinquished, for a time, the attempt to recover his money but, yesterday afternoon, goaded and crazed by poverty and liquor, he again visited the home of his sister and demanded his own, which was, as previously, refused, whereupon he became furious and abusive, and was peremptory in his demands. The sister, however, resolutely refused to comply with the demand, whereupon he loudly applied the most opprobrious epithets to her.
Meanwhile, Moody, who was chopping wood in the cellar of the building, heard the altercation and ascended to the apartment, where he found Duffy, according to the allegations of his sister, using the vilest language and threatening violence. Moody then remonstrated with his inebriate brother-in-law, who declined to listen, and refusing to leave the house when ordered, advanced to attack Moody, who seizing a club made a murderous assault upon Duffy, felling him to the floor with a terrible blow, followed by others of a frightful nature, after the victim had fallen. The head of the unfortunate Duffy was thus terribly mutilated, there being several deep gashes upon the forehead and also upon the back of the head, which seems to have been crushed by the formidable weapon, which was a jagged piece of oak between two and three feet in length, and very heavy.
"She seized a club and drove him in the street, breaking one of his thumbs by the onslaught." (Inage by Brian C. Goss.)
During the assault the miserable victim groaned till beaten into a state of insensibility, and the sister, horrified at the brutal murder of her brother by her husband, screamed loudly for help, in response to which an excited crowd soon gathered, and upon learning of the atrocious deed, loudly clamored for the murderer, who, upon search being made, proved to have fled, and, for a time at least to have made good his escape. Attention was then directed to the wounded man, who lay in a pool of blood, horribly disfigured, motionless and scarcely breathing perceptibly. Upon removing the dying man to his own lowly home, Dr. Whitehead was summoned, but, upon examining the patient, he immediately pronounced his fearful wounds of a fatal nature. Every remedy known and medical skill available under the circumstances was applied for the relief of the rapidly sinking man, but without avail, and about two hours after the assault he expired.
Captain McConnell quickly repaired to the abode of death, which presented a truly heartrending scene. In the back part of the miserable apartment, about six feet by ten feet in dimensions, lay the lifeless form of the murdered man, stretched upon the floor, surrounded by the fatherless children and the wretched widow, crying in a piteous manner. The dingy room was but poorly lighted by an oil lamp, whose feeble rays only rendered the scene more sickening, and made the appearance of the poverty more striking.”
Tags: Bernard Duffy, Captain McConnell, James Moody, Mrs. Moody
Comment from “alienhuman” connected to this video on youtube:
“I would not want to see today’s flight attendants in hot pants. Most of them need elastic waistbands!”