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Miscellaneous Media: ABA Pictorial 1968-69

May 9, 2010 in Misc., Sports | Permalink

Rick Barry goes to the hoop for the Oakland Oaks. The Oaks lasted from 1967-1969.

Recently got my broken, bony fingers on a rare copy of ABA Pictorial 1968-69, from the old American Basketball Association. The upper-right-hand corner is a little crooked, but who isn’t in this day and age? The league’s most famous player of that year, Rick Barry of the Oakland Oaks, graces the cover. The periodical cost one buck at the time.

The booklet has some ads for sneakers that provided almost no support for ankles and arches. But it’s mostly filled with propaganda for the dirt-poor league, written by the ABA PR directors, who were trying to spread the gospel of high hopes for the Minnesota Pipers, New Orleans Buccaneers, Kentucky Colonels, etc. And the “ABA Outlook Extremely Bright” article leaves little room for argument against the league that would be defunct by 1976, with some of its teams folding into the NBA.

"Pro-Keds--the only basketball shoes ever endorsed by the ABA."

One interesting article written by announcer Terry Stembridge, titled “63 Feet To Spare,” recounts how Jerry Harkness of the Indiana Pacers sunk a buzzer beater from way downtown to defeat the Dallas Chaparrals. An excerpt:

“I had already called it a Chaparral victory that night in Dallas, a heartbeat before Jerry Harkness scored the longest shot in the history of basketball to give Indiana a 119-118 victory. It turned out to be the most premature journalistic announcement since that Chicago headline in 1948 proclaimed, “Dewey Defeats Truman.”

Since history never hands you the script for its most dramatic moments, no one in Memorial Auditorium thought there could be anything beyond what had just taken place for 47 minutes and 59 seconds between the Dallas Chaparrals and the Indiana Pacers. No one dreamed there could be another stroke of fortune beyond John Beasley’s field goal in the final two seconds to give Dallas a 118-116 lead and apparent victory.

When I saw Beasley’s shot bury itself in the cords, I shouted over the deafening roar that Dallas had won. Even as I spoke, I saw the clock and Jerry Harkness. I was surprised to see that a second remained but I knew it would make no difference. I watched Harkness, barely in bounds, drawing back to throw the ball. And then, suddenly, the red, white and blue ball was gone on its 88-foot journey into history.”

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“Highlights” From Another Awful Week Of Afflictor Mediocrity

May 7, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Afflictor: Helping seals sleep peacefully since 2009.

Craigslist Update: Stolen Bronx Puggle Who Was Sold For Heroin Is Found!

May 7, 2010 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

I'm back home with Mama! Now if we could only locate my missing testicles.

Our long national nightmare is over: Peanut Butter, the Bronx Puggle who was stolen and sold for heroin, has been found. I swear I’m not making this shit up. The new post from Craigslist:

Stolen Puggle Found! (Bronx)

I’ve been posting here for a few weeks about PeanutButter, my puggle that my mom sold for heroin. After many days and nights of crying, our journey is finally over. PeanutButter has been recovered, and he’s back home safe and sound! Thank you to everyone who emailed me giving me their support and prayers! MANY Thanks to Pet P.I, they helped me recover him! I would be lost without them!”

Old Print Ad: Ajeeb, The Chess-Playing Automaton

May 7, 2010 in Misc., Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

Ajeeb says, "Checkmate, bitch!"

As hoaxes go, Ajeeb, an “automaton” expert at checkers and chess, was a ridiculously simple scam. Ajeeb was one of several alleged machines–the Turk and Mephisto were a couple of others–during the late 1800s and early 1900s that were supposedly capable of defeating humans at board games.

Ajeeb, created in 1868 by cabinetmaker Charles Hooper, was not actually a machine at all. The elaborate-looking 10-foot-tall contraption attired in Turkish clothes hid inside of it a rotating collection of some of the best chess players in the world. Thousands came to see Ajeeb match moves with disbelieving opponents (including Houdini, Teddy Roosevelt and Sarah Berhnardt) on both sides of the Atlantic.

There is intrigue surrounding Ajeeb that supposedly involved theft and murder and more. Eventually technology caught up to imagination and today computers need no help to defeat us.

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Twitter’s Best Use Yet, Apart From Helping Iranian Citizens Trying To Overthrow Ahmadinejad

May 7, 2010 in Misc., Sports | Permalink

"Old Hoss" Radbourn: "Like J. Santana, I once 'lost' my change up. Left it in a whore's rucksack. That was embarrassing."

You don’t have to love baseball and post-Civil War American history to appreciate the greatness of the “Old Hoss” Radbourn Twitter account, but it helps.

The real Charles Gardner “Old Hoss” Radbourn was a Rochester native and tough-as-nails professional baseball pitcher from 1881-1891, during the Deadball Era. He became famous for winning 59 games (or 60, depending on what stats you believe) in the 1884 season for the Boston Beaneaters. After his playing days were over, Radbourn became the proprietor of an Illinois pool hall and saloon. A book about his life–Fifty-Nine in ’84–has recently been published.

Some unknown wit has set up a Twitter account as “Old Hoss” Radbourn and dispenses commentary on modern sports and culture through the purview of a 19th-century hardass. The results are pretty special. It’s been rumored that one of the guys responsible for the now-defunct Fire Joe Morgan site is behind the Old Hoss Twitter. I’m not sure who it is, but I’m glad it’s there. A few of the account’s tweets:

  • One of the advantages of playing armed: hooligans who ran on the field earned a lead bullet and a shallow grave.
  • I was never really the same after 1887, the year laudanum was declared a “performance enhancer.”
Julia Ward Howe: “Thighs like spun cream.”
  • I liked “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” for my at-bat music. I was of course bedding its author, Julia Ward Howe. Thighs like spun cream.
  • This C. Crist reminds me of “Peaches” Delahunt, who was a white, landed slave-owner who claimed to be a Lincoln Republican. He was most tan.
  • The real reason people throw back home run balls: in my day a sniper would plug you if you didn’t. Balls were expensive; lives weren’t.
  • I once traveled to Rome to see Michelangelo’s Pietà. It was so lifelike and moving. It would make a better out fielder than C. Quentin.
  • Just watched “Bull Durham.” Of all the gifts Annie gave “Nuke,” Hoss suspects gonorrhea was the lad’s least favorite.
  • 1888. A crushingly disappointing year. Had to go on the DL with a case of the gout. I curse you, sweetbreads and other rich delicacies.
  • Tonight Hoss noticed greeting cards labeled “Easter, romantic.” Not sure that is what J. Christ had in mind when he vanquished death itself.

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Pretty Much Everyone In This Commercial Is A Gigantic D-Bag

May 6, 2010 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

This bizarre local commercial for Kelley Plastic Surgery of Newport Beach, California, is brought to you by the wonderfully deranged souls at I Love Local Commercials. I swear to you that it’s real and not a spoof. My favorite part is the woman who asserts that her recent opportunity to take a trip to Canada was in some way connected to her plastic surgery. The spot was created by the North Carolina-based comedy duo, Rhett & Link, who were also responsible for this great spot.

Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

May 4, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Not the barber chair from the Craigslist ad but still excellent for beer bong use. (Photo by Joe Mabel.)

Barber Chair for Sale – $50 (Eastchester, NY)

Black and silver Barber Chair for sale. Husband used in college for shots at Frat house! It holds a lot of good memories for him. If you know of a college student looking to be the biggest hit in his fraternity, this is the chair for him. Pick up only!! It is heavy. Need some strong backs to lift into a truck.

How Much Time Can You Waste On Taberinos?

May 4, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Lines disappear when they are hit with a ball.

Thanks to the great Newmark’s Door for pointing me in the direction of the time suck known as Taberinos. It’s a deceptively simple game in which you fire a ball at straight lines to make them disappear. If you remove all the lines before you are out of shots, you get to move on to the next level. The patterns get more elaborate as you proceed and there are some traps built in. Enjoy your wasted time.

Old Print Article: “Young Woman Broke His Nose,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1898)

May 4, 2010 in Excerpts, Misc., Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

Allan Pinkerton, father of the American private detective industry: "What is this I hear about a detective-punching hellcat?" (Image by Alexander Gardner.)

There was apparently one thing that Miss Mamie Wilson of Rockaway Avenue didn’t take kindly to in 1898: being told she was no lady. I came across this article about the ass-kicking Mamie in the August 2, 1898 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. It was subtitled: “Private Detective McCool Fell Victim to Miss Wilson’s Pugilistic Prowess.” An excerpt:

“Miss Mamie Wilson of 176 Rockaway avenue, who had Michael Fiero, an Italian barber arrested one day last week, on a charge of threatening to kill her, because she refused to marry him, appeared before Magistrate Teale this morning, and requested to withdraw her charge. She said that she and her mother were going to move from the neighborhood wherein they at present reside and would then be free from molestation at the hands of Fiero. The case was set down for a hearing on August 9.

The young woman was later arraigned before the magistrate on a charge of dislocating the nasal organ of a young man who says he is a private detective. James McCool, the complainant, who lives at 16 Russell place, alleged that on July 27, he was passing Miss Wilson’s door.

‘She called me a loafer, your honor,’ said McCool, ‘and I said she was no lady. Then she struck me with her fist on the nose and dislocated it.’

In answer to the charge, Miss Wilson said that McCool insulted her. She admitted she struck McCool and said he deserved it. When the magistrate said that she would have to be held for the Special Sessions, the young woman became frightened. She was allowed to go under parole.”

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Old Print Ad: Weltmer Institute Of Magnetic Healing (1899)

May 3, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Sidney Weltmer: I was mustachioed, as was the custom of the time.

It would be tough to label “Professor” Sidney Abram Weltmer a con man, since he seemed to sincerely believe his bullshit. Weltmer was a medical autodidact and “healer” who opened a clinic of sorts in Nevada, Missouri, in 1897. He offered in-person treatments and a mail-order course that employed something called “Suggestive Therapeutics,” which purported to be able to heal any disease with the power of poitive thinking and laying on of hands. It was a mish-mash of pseudo-medicine and spiritual platitudes. And it was incredibly popular for a good, long time, as Nevada was forced to increase the size of its post office and the frequency of its train service, as letters and visitors poured in. Other doctors and medical associations sued him for fraud, but the Supreme Court ruled in 1902 that Weltmer had broken no laws and was free to pursue his unique brand of medicine and medical instruction.

Weltmer had originally trained himself to be a healer because he suffered from consumption while he was a teen. Despite that often fatal disease, he didn’t die until 72 in 1930, so maybe he knew something after all. But probably not. An excerpt from the copy of the 1899 Weltmer ad titled “Disease Cannot Exist: 100,000 Cured By Weltmerism Prove It To Be Disease’s Most Formidable Foe”:

“The man or woman who is diseased or afflicted in mind or body is not in a normal condition, or in that condition which God or nature intended them to be. The organization of woman is so constructed that the monthly period is necessary and natural. If woman is healthy she need have no fear or no pain at this time. Debilitation is unnatural state of affairs. Indigestion, dyspepsia, stomach trouble and all diseases simply show a disordered system, and show the constitution is not in the condition in which it was intended to be.

The reason that the method of Magnetic Healing as originated by Professor S. A. Weltmer of Nevada, Mo., performs such marvelous cures is that it is perfectly natural and nature’s own cure. For without the aid of drugs or a surgeon’s knife, it goes directly to the seat of all afflictions and in a perfectly natural manner places the entire constitution in a strong and healthy condition.”

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Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

May 2, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Not the couch from the Craigslist ad, but a proud member of the couch family. (Image by Fastily.)

Holy Crap, Awesome Couch! — $100 (Union Square)

Good lord, just look at this glorious couch!!!

Many people would value this couch at over $50 million, but we’re giving it away for the unreal price of $100!

All you have to do is come to my apartment and get it before I move out tonight, and its comfy, warm and luxurious qualities will all be yours to enjoy.

This couch was made by bauhaus, I know, THE BAUHAUS, and is about two years old. Bought it for $800 new, but I have to leave today, so again it’s available for 100 bones.

Did you know that the ancient romans used to lie on couches while they ate? My GOD! You could be like the ancient romans!!! They conquered most of the known world… just think what you could do if only you had this couch.

Tan microsuede, seriously comfortable.

Note: Picture includes some books and a wii fit. Those are mine. All you need, all you will ever need, is the couch.

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“Highlights” From Another Woeful Week Of Asinine Afflictor

May 1, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Afflictor: The pachyderm tranquilizer of choice since 2009.

Miscellaneous Media: “Baseball Is My Life.” (1973)

May 1, 2010 in Excerpts, Misc., Sports | Permalink

"From a scared minor leaguer to winner of the Cy Young Award--baseball's highest honor for a pitcher--almost overnight!"

Got my bent, bony fingers on a copy of Tom Seaver’s 1973 softcover book, “Baseball is my life.” Co-authored by sportswriter Steve Jacobson, this 127-page Scholastic Books publication is graced with a few cool photos and was aimed at kids.

“Tom Terrific” looks back on his childhood and how he went from Little League to the pinnacle of the big leagues. He definitely plays the humble hero for kids in the book, though I haven’t heard a whole lot of flattering things over the years about Seaver’s personality. At any rate, he was treated like a Beatle after he led the Miracle Mets to the 1969 World Series and could have published all the books he wanted. In the following excerpt, Seaver recalls the culture shock he experienced after joining the Marine Corps Reserve when he was a 17-year-old American Legion pitcher:

“I hated being in the Marine Corps. But I don’t think anything was worse than the first day at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego. I’ve compared memories with other fellows in the service. It just wasn’t my outfit or me; it was everybody and every outfit. It was the first day: anger, frustration, tears, fear–all wrapped together in the unknown.

Seaver on the mound during the 1969 World Series. If baseball hadn't panned out, he planned to become a dentist.

It began with Russ Scheidt, an old, friend, and myself getting on a bus that went to San Diego. When we were five or six years old, Russ and I used to play catch. He’d stand on one side of the street and toss the ball to me on the other side. Neither of us was allowed to cross the street then. He was the kid who told me, when I showed up for my first Little League game, that I had my socks on backwards.

They picked us up at the bus station, got us onto a truck, and they told us to sit down and not talk. It wasn’t bad. Then when we drove through the gates it was like going into a new world.

The door opened and the screaming began. You always know that sticks and stones will break your bones and names will never harm you, but this was something else. When they screamed, we had to jump and move, and we never jumped high enough or moved fast enough. Get out of the bus, stand in line, and hurry up–screaming, screaming with all the foul language that goes with it. I heard words I could never write on a printed page.”

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A Bouncer In Birmingham Hit Robert Lee In The Face With A Crescent Wrench Five Times

April 30, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

The great kottke.org pointed me in the direction of a TV ad that genius filmmaker Errol Morris has identified as the best commercial he’s ever seen. It’s a local spot for Alabama proprietor Robert Lee’s Cullman Liquidation Center, which sells used mobile homes. It was created by Rhett & Link, the North Carolina-based multimedia comedy duo comprised of Rhett McLaughlin and Link Neal. I don’t know how many double-wides the commercial has moved off the lot, but it certainly is attention-grabbing. And the family members seem ready-made for their own reality show.

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The Amazing Annals Of Glossy Greatness

April 30, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Writer Ève Curie (daughter of Madame Curie) graced the cover of “Time” in 1940, as she did her part to fight the scourge of Nazism. Ève did tons of work for UNICEF and lived to 102.

As the magazine industry founders in the face of a media paradigm shift, Molly Lambert and Alex Carnevale at This Recording have published a smart piece called “15 Best Print Magazine Runs of All Time.” They pinpoint spans of time when a magazine thrived creatively and transcended all the other rags on the rack.

It’s a really great list, though I have some nits to pick. The heyday of Premiere isn’t represented at all. And some of the time spans seem stingy (Life wasn’t great just from 1940-1965 but until the end of its original run in 1972; Mad was amazing for a lot longer than 1958-1963). But I quibble. Below is an example of some of the entries.

*****

12. Might (1991-1995)

Dave Eggers’s San Francisco magazine was known for rambling essays on provocative topics. Some have cited their “Are Black People Cooler Than White People?” as the first recorded LOL. They also did an issue that was entirely about cheese, and let David Foster Wallace make the argument that AIDS was going to make sexual pursuit better and more rewarding by making it more difficult. If you write about all the things you find interesting it is possible that somebody else will also be interested, or better yet become interested just because it’s written well.

*****

 

Patti Smith performs in Copenhagen in 1976. In between gigs, she contributed articles to “Creem.”

6. Creem (1971-1980)

Cooler than Rolling Stone, Creem featured articles from a dream roster of counterculture writers like Lester Bangs, Greil Marcus, Nick Tosches, Richard Meltzer, Patti Smith, and Cameron Crowe, all of whom made or embossed their names here (plus countless other staffers who did all the work). The original arrogant confrontational blog, indier than thou when it still meant something, Creem articles expose all other music criticism as falsity. Our favorite kind of snobs, Creem touted the MC5 and ABBA equally.

*****

2. Time (1939-1945)

Before Time became the absolute mess it is now, two men made this venerable institution the most well-written compendium of critical thought ever to enter the public sphere at the time. Whittaker Chambers joined Time in 1939; soon enough he and James Agee were the primary composers of the arts section of the magazine. Chambers ascended to the magazine’s editorial board, and kept writing. It only got better from there.

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Old Print Article: “The Talk Of New York–George Francis Train,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1888)

April 29, 2010 in Misc., Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

This photo, taken somewhere between 1855-1865, shows George Francis Train still somewhat together.

Although he’s largely forgotten now, George Francis Train was one of the most famous people in the world in the late 1800s. The inspiration for Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days, Train was a businessman, politician, lecturer, author, world traveler and all-around larger-than-life character. He was also increasingly batshit crazy in his later life.

Train spent a lot of time during his dotage wandering around Madison Square Park, handing out dimes and refusing to talk to anyone but children and animals. Here’s an excerpt from a June 24, 1888 issue of Brooklyn Daily Eagle, when “Citizen Train” had gone off the rails:

“I overheard a curious conversation in the barroom of the Hoffman House this week between our returned crank, George Francis Train, and a gentleman who had known him as a boy and who was familiar enough with him to still address him by his Christian name. The Sage of Madison Square strode in looking cool, handsome and as sunburned as ever, arrayed from top to toe in snow white duck, and as usual carrying his straw hat in his hand, while his buttonhole was adorned with cornflowers. He called for milk and vichy, the new Summer drink, with the invention of which that other crank, Ruskin, is credited, and while absorbing it was approached by his aforementioned acquaintance, who extended his hand and said genially, ‘Good morning, George. Glad to see you in the city again.’

Before his angry flight to New Brunswick and his somewhat sheepish return, the crank never answered any remark made to him by adults, declaring they took from him ‘Psycho-force.’ But now he considered himself sufficiently strong to withstand the drain of speaking to them and replied ‘Good Morning’ at the same time putting his hands behind his back, and adding, ‘You must excuse me, but I can’t shake hands with you’

Perhaps inspired by his surname, Train was instrumental in the formation of the Union Pacific Railroad.

‘Why not?’ demanded the other.

‘Because,’ answered the crank, ‘for fifteen years I have never allowed myself to touch man or woman. I should impart a portion of my psychic forces to them and I can not afford to do it. Only lately have I been able even to speak to them.’

‘Oh, bother such nonsense,’ cried his friend impatiently. ‘There’s not the slightest use of the type of talk with me, George. I’ve known you too long. I hoped you would finally have gotten over this absurd craze of yours. It’s a shame that a man with your talents should have wasted your life as you have done.’

Train looked annoyed and uncomfortable and retorted, ‘Why, what have you done yourself to have made your life worth living?’

‘If nothing else,’ replied his friend, ‘I have raised to manhood two noble, manly sons, and that in itself is enough.’

‘Oh, you think so,’ sneered Train. ‘Well let me tell you what I have done. I have stored up in the last fifteen years enough psychic force to enable me to live for centuries, and it’s growing all the time, so that long after you and your two sons are dead I shall be here, passing through the streets people will fall dead before me, so great and irresistible will be my power.’

Five minutes after he was talking with the utmost clearness and shrewdness, concerning some investments in real estate in St. Paul and no one could have believed him the lunatic of fifteen seconds previous.”

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Old Print Ad: Cataract Electric Washer (1920)

April 27, 2010 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

Surly domestics never got our clothes this clean.

Unlike pesky human laborers who expect to receive a living wage and don’t take kindly to 18-hour workdays, these reliable machines from Seattle Electric Washer Co. didn’t get uppity and go on strike. The company exploited fears associated with the rise of labor unions for this 1920 advertisement that promised subservience from their “servants.” An excerpt from the copy:

“A real servant in the home is a rarity in these days of complex labor conditions. The 1900 Cataract Electric Washer is a real servant that never goes on strike, never demands more pay or never tires with extra work.

Let us put one in your home and solve your servant and laundry problem. We demonstrate this machine in your home at no expense to you. Phone us for demonstration.”

Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

April 26, 2010 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

An example of a puggle but not the one described in the Craigslist ad. This dog may have both of his nuts.

Stolen Puggle *reward* (Bronx Park E.)

I left a post a week ago about a lost a puggle name Peanut Butter that my mother may have sold for drugs. It is confirmed that my mother and her boyfriend did sell him for heroin. I am doing everything I can to find him, and I’m just posting again because I NEED all the help I can get. Peanut Butter isn’t microchipped but he has a nametag with my number on it as well as his rabies vaccination tag from Whitestone Animal Hospital. He has a license but unfortunately it was taken off when he was stolen.

Peanut Butter is a puggle who looks MOSTLY pug, he has a curly tail, well built, tan, pug face, around 29 pounds and neutered. He only had one testicle, though he is neutered, what remains is still one sac. He is hyper and though weary of new people, he warms up quickly and can be very friendly. His breathing is very loud, and you can hear him coming a mile away. He is somewhere in the Bronx. He was last seen at Bronx Park East and Mace Ave.

If you see anyone with him and I mean ANYONE. please call the police and call me. Please try to remember cross streets, location, landmarks, and a description of who he was seen with. I have a generous award for anyone who can bring my dog back! Below are pictures of my dog as well as pics of my mom and her boyfriend. If you see Peanut Butter with my mom and her boyfriend, please I ask that you still call the police. Do not talk to them or ask them questions, all they will do is LIE. Please if anyone can help it will be greatly appreciated!

“Highlights” From Another Cruddy Week Of Awful Afflictor

April 24, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Afflictor: The sleep antidote of choice for most middle-aged Indian women.

Afflictor Nation: Our Popularity In Russia Continues For Some Strange Reason

April 23, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Boris Yeltsin: Drunker than Andy Dick.

I kid you not when I tell you that at the end of each month of Afflictor’s existence, we have had the same foreign country rack up more visits than any other: Russia. And with a week to go in April, it’s clear that Mother Russia will once again be number one. Why does this keep happening? I mean, what kind of perfume are they drinking over there? I’ve suggested in the past that perhaps it’s because many Russian writers have trouble breathing during Vladimir Putin’s reign, so maybe citizens of the country have nothing to read but Afflictor nonsense. Or maybe it’s because this website strictly prohibits funny hats, questionable sunglasses and male hustlers. Whatever it is, Afflictor Nation sends out yet another warm welcome to you, Russia!

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Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

April 22, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

Library of Congress photo of George Washington's teeth.

Information wanted for dentist (Queens)

I have severe tooth decay and want to have my teeth extracted and be fitted with dentures. Some of my teeth are broken at the gumline. I am writing because I am looking for a dentist in my neighborhood that takes my insurance, will do the extractions and fitting in a minimal amount of time and frankly wont be a dick that will lecture me and ridicule me. I live in 11367. I have Neighborhood HMO through medicaid. I need a place that isnt too far from my area. Hit me back with some information please. Thanks. Ps: Keep your comments to yourself if you are gonna be an asshole and email me stupid shit. I am simply asking for information nothing more. If you know of a good dentist that specializes in this area, or if you know of a dentist close to my area that takes this insurance than please email me with number info etc. I don’t deserve to be treated like an asshole because I want to better myself by getting something like this done.

Old Print Ad: Whiz Bang Pep Pills

April 22, 2010 in Misc. | Permalink

"Full of red-blooded vim and push."

The 1920s must have been the best decade ever. I mean outside of financial collapse, Prohibition and violent labor strife. In 1926, right below an ad for discount guns ($6.45 for a blue steel automatic), was a come-on for the no-doubt quackish Whiz Bang Pep Pills, a proto-Viagra from the fine folks at the Sani-Research Co. It truly was the guns-and-boners decade. The ad copy in full:

“Want new pep quick? Here’s how to get it.

Weak? Lost Vigor? Then send at once for Whiz Bang, the amazing new discovery with almost magic-like action. Pep and energy come back quick–you feel like a new man, full of red-blooded vim and push. Nothing like Whiz Bang–that’s why 1000s use it. No harmful drugs that form habits. Results guaranteed or money back. Send $2.00 for double strength package. Special 2 package offer, $3.00.”

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Old Print Article: “How The Throat Of A Hunchback Paramour Was Cut,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1877)

April 21, 2010 in Misc., Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

There are no public domain images of Jacob Massoth, of course.

In the November 26, 1877 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, I came across this relentlessly insulting (byline-less) account of an incredibly chaotic and lurid murder. Seriously, it’s one of the crazier things you’ll ever read. An excerpt:

“A bloody tragedy occurred, yesterday, in the basement of the house, No. 517, East Thirteenth street, New York. The victim was Jacob Massoth, a knife and scissors grinder, aged sixty-five years, and his slayer was George Dell, a whitewasher, aged seventeen. Massoth has been a familiar character on the East Side for many years. He was a queer-looking little man with a hunchback, a squat figure, a face like a wrinkled parchment, and stiff gray hair. There was always a mischievous twinkle in his snapping, bead like eyes, and when he lugged his wheel and tools along the streets, the little children scattered in all directions, and as they ran they shouted, ‘Here comes the goblin!’

For a considerable amount of time, the hunchback had maintained illicit relations with Mrs. Katrina Dell, the mother of the youth who killed him, who lived in the apartment where the deed was done. She is forty-four years of age and has been widowed for four years. It is said that the criminal relations with Massoth were contracted before the death of the late husband. Mrs. Dell is by no means an attractive woman. She is short and stout with an exceedingly dark complexion and coarse features.

The knife grinder paid her increasing attention and generally lived in the same house with her or in the neighborhood. Wherever the woman and her family moved, the hunchback followed. When they took up their quarters in Thirteenth street he occupied a room on the same floor. Three weeks ago he began to live in the same apartment with his mistress. George Dell, the eldest son, objected to this arrangement, and he urged his mother to marry Massoth. The mother said they had not money enough to pay for a wedding. Meanwhile the neighbors began to talk and the son became restive under the taunts of his companions regarding the infamy of his mother. He was constantly embroiled with Massoth and they had frequent quarrels.

Yesterday afternoon the youth George stood before a looking glass in the back of the basement shaving himself, when his younger brother, Adolph, jostled against him. George reprimanded the lad and turned him out of the room. Massoth interfered and took the boy’s part, probably using the incident as a means of provoking a quarrel. George told him ‘if he did not look out whose house he was in he would get chucked out.’ The hunchback became furious in a moment. He seized a dinner plate from the table and hurled it at the head of the offender. As the missile struck the wall near George and was dashed to pieces, he turned about angrily, but when Massoth entered the bedroom as if to retreat he only laughed contemptuously and returned to his shaving.

In a moment Massoth darted from the bedroom with a hatchet in one hand and a heavy whetstone in the other. The hunchback was frantic with rage and springing on the young man dealt him a tremendous blow on the head with the stone just as Mrs. Dell and her daughter Annie rushed in to make a vain endeavor to separate the two. Massoth pushed the women aside and struck several more heavy blows with the whetstone, cutting his scalp and causing blood to pour over his face.

Then he raised the hatchet to cleave George’s skull. Young Dell endeavored to defend himself from the assault and prevent the infuriated knife grinder from using the hatchet. Maddened by the restraint put on him, Massoth struck George again with the whetstone. The blow fell upon the arm which held the razor. The blade was turned back and as George endeavored to defend himself, the sharp edge came into contact with the jugular vein of the hunchback. The murderous Massoth fell upon the floor. Blood gushed in torrents from the wound, and in a few seconds the wretch lay lifeless upon the crimson stained floor.”

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Miscellaneous Media: Hockey Digest (1973)

April 20, 2010 in Misc., Sports | Permalink

On the cover: "Can Derek Sanderson Find Happiness On Ice?"

I’m not a big fan of ice hockey but getting to leaf through a 1973 issue of Hockey Digest is a fun retro thing to do. The April issue I got my bony fingers on features a slew of narrative-driven stories, most of which oddly concerned players trying to attain happiness in life and career. But, then, aren’t we all?

One of the interesting articles, written by Toronto sportswriter Dick Beddoes, a colorful character who enjoyed dressing sorta pimpy, focused on the imprisonment of Maple Leafs owner Harold Ballard, a jackass who’d been sentenced to a nine years in the federal penalty box for an assortment of financial chicanery. Incarceration in a supermax penitentiary didn’t prevent him from continuing to be an operator. An excerpt from “The Unhappy Saga of Harold Ballard”:

“Millhaven has rarely had a more celebrated inmate, apart from the odd big-time stock thief or kidnapper. The other cons naturally want to know what’s wrong with the Maple Leafs, a dilapidated team on a headlong plunge down an open elevator shaft.

Ballard is an expansive host as he shows his friends his tidy Millhaven quarters, somewhat more Spartan than to palatial suite in the Gardens. which resembles an ostentatious remnant from Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.

‘This,’ he’ll say, ‘is the library. And next door, here, is the television room. We get the hockey games on color TV.’

He points out the swimming pool and says, a little wistfully, ‘And out there just outside the window we’re going to get busy building a hockey rink.'”

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Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

April 17, 2010 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

A fine example of the Persian Cat breed. To see Antoinette Letterman's painting of a Persian, click on her name in the post. (Image by Chosovi.)

Large Signed Letterman Oil on Canvas Persian Cat – $2000 (Edison, NJ)

This is a wonderful large oil on canvas of a Persian cat by Letterman.

About the Artist Antoinette Letterman:

Born in New York City, Antoinette has traveled extensively, from Canada to Mexico, and throughout the United States, to the Caribbean, and to Jamaica, where she spent time with some of the tigers, panthers and leopards she has painted.

Antoinette has always had a love of the earth and animals of all kinds. When only six years old, she followed a horse and a carnival out of town and had to ask someone to help her get back home! Since that grand adventure, Antoinette has made many, many trips to zoos, wildlife centers and national parks, always using mental photography when there was no camera available. She is self-taught and draws on that memory of pictures from which to paint, as well as still visiting zoos and wildlife refuges, such as Fossil Rim, a wildlife center about two hours from her residence, in order to obtain accurate reference material for her work. Antoinette has relocated from Pennsylvania to the Sunny Southwest, and now resides in Texas where she and her granddaughter, Michelle, who lives with her, write and illustrate books and paint animals to their heart’s content. Michelle shares Antoinette’s love of animals, and especially loves wolves and dogs. For the last three years they have resided in a waterfront home in Denton, Texas.

Antoinette’s work has been purchased locally, nationally and internationally.

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