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Old Print Article: “He Needed A Fat Man,” New York Times (1920)

November 19, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“I am looking for a fat man.”

When they weren’t enjoying clambakes, men of a certain weight were finding it easy to secure gainful employment, as evidenced by an article in the July 17, 1920 New York Times. An excerpt:

“A discerning hospital superintendent has discovered that he needs fat men at the information desk and switchboard to help make things run smoothly in the institution over which he holds sway, according to The Modern Hospital.

‘I am looking for a fat man,’ said he, ‘and I am having trouble to find him. I want him for the information desk and I want him quickly.’

The superintendent then went on to explain that some time ago he determined to find the cause for the rather constant criticism of his institution, criticism that seemed wholly unwarranted. He was certain, he said, that the medical work was of high grade, that his nurses were well trained, and that the food and service were satisfactory. In spite of this, there seemed to be a tendency among the public for uncomplimentary observation. This tendency, or as the superintendent put it, the habit of finding fault was difficult to analyze. It was all the more difficult because the criticisms were vague; they evaded analysis.

A painstaking process of elimination, and a follow-up, or rather a follow-down, of the comments revealed the source of the trouble. It was at the very entrance of the hospital, at the information desk.

‘The quick, nervous types,’ said the superintendent, ‘that I had at the switchboard and the entrance I had thought very efficient. I supposed I thought so because they were quick, but I was wrong. They didn’t stand the strain well, they did not lend themselves to the other man’s point of view. To them a visitor was an intruder. And now I’m going to have a big good-natured man, two if necessary, men who will wear well, who can smile, and who will make people good-natured in spite of themselves It takes a fat man to do that.’

‘If the superintendent is right,’ adds the writer, ‘we need fat men. The information desk of any hospital is the first and last place and the last place for good nature.'”

A Brief Note From 1879 About A Female Husband

November 18, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the December 25, 1879 New York Times:

“Australia is greatly exercised respecting a woman who has for many years passed herself off as a man, and who has married several wives. In 1857 a girl bearing the name of Ellen Tremayne came to Melbourne in the Ocean Monarch. On her arrival she married a fellow passenger of the name of Mary Delahunty, and assumed herself the name of Edward De Lacy Evans. Mary having died, ‘she’ married Julia Maynard. Julia is still alive, but Miss Edwards De Lacy Evans, having gone mad, has been confined in the Kew Lunatic Asylum, where his or her sex was discovered owing to each inmate being forced to take a bath. The curious circumstance connected to this case is that not one of the wives revealed the imposition that had been practiced upon her, nor did the miners with whom Miss Edward worked for above 20 years ever suspect that she was a woman.”

Tags: Edward De Lacy Exans, Ellen Tremayne, Mary Delahunty

Old Print Article: “Abandoned Sleeper In Coffin,” New York Times (1903)

November 17, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“He says he will never again permit himself to the buried alive.”

A hypnotist is accused of dereliction of duty and cuckoldry in an article in the February 8, 1903 New York Times. The story:

“Passaic, N.J.–Prof. Lawson Herman, a hypnotist, put Samuel Powell to sleep in a coffin at the Empire Theatre on Thursday night at midnight. A big crowd was on hand to witness the reawakening of Powell, but the professor failed to put in an appearance.

It turned out that Manager Sohl of the Passaic Opera House, with ire in his eye and a revolver in his pocket, was looking for Hermann with the avowed intention of shooting him on sight. The professor, earlier in the night, had heard of Manager Sohl’s quest, and incontinently had slipped out of the theatre and the town without apprising anyone of the departure.

At the witching hour when the yawning coffin was to give up Powell. Hermann could not be found. The big audience became impatient, and Manager Stein of the Empire became alarmed. The manager hustled around, and after some trouble secured Prof. Tony Frylinck. Prof. Frylinck worked all night before he could awaken the sleeper, and by that time the few weary spectators who had waited to see the upshot were so sleepy themselves that they lost all interest in Powell, and some of those who had dozed off rather resented his return to consciousness of his surroundings, for Powell when he learned that Hermann had abandoned him was at first greatly alarmed and then waxed exceeding wroth, and expressed his opinion of the professor in language that was as loud as it was emphatic. He says he will never again permit himself to the buried alive.

Manager Sohl’s lust for Hemrnan’s gore, it appears, was aroused by the fact that for the second time his wife had disappeared, and he accuses the hypnotist of hypnotizing her and taking her away. She disappeared on Thursday, and he says he raced her and Hermann to Newark. The first time she ran away she was found in Herman’s apartments in New York, and Sohl had the professor arrested.”

Tags: Manager Sohl, Manager Stein, Prof. Lawson Herman, Prof. Tony Frylinck, Samuel Powell

Old Print Article: “Man With Two Brains,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1901)

November 15, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

“There seem to be no limitation upon his ability to do wonders in arithmetic.”

So-called “Lightning Calculators” were sideshow performers more than a century ago who could solve complicated mathematical problems in their heads in front of live audiences. Few had the facility for numbers displayed by Jacques Inaudi (1867-1950), an Italian who toured extensively with vaudeville shows demonstrating his prodigious abilities. The Brooklyn Daily Eagle profiled the math man on October 15, 1901 (and misidentified his nationality). An excerpt:

“To make a real hit, mathematics in vaudeville have to be of a sensational character. The old time lightning calculator, with his demonstrations and short processes, would depreciate to the vanishing point if compared with Jacques Inaudi, ‘the man with the double brain,’ at the Orpheum this week. Inaudi is a Frenchman and his English is limited but there seem to be no limitation upon his ability to do wonders in arithmetic.

One blackboard isn’t enough for him; so his assistant operates five in a row. Ordinary examples apparently bore him; so, if given an option, he chooses something in the trillions. His assistant, who wears a big black mustache and a dress suit, has to work much harder, physically, than Inaudi. The latter, who faces the audience from a little projecting platform, never looks at the blackboard, but repeats the numbers given him from various parts of the house for his manager, and stage assistant, to write with Parisian flourishes. Then, when the sum in addition, subtraction, cube root or what not, is complete, the manager works it out in sight of the audience but, quick as he is, Monsieur Inaudi finished before him and gives the correct answer to the people in the front.

“One blackboard isn’t enough for him; so his assistant operates five in a row.”

Last night Inaudi asked first for material for a sum in subtraction. Various three figure combinations were shouted here and there, with the result that when the top of the five boards had been filled to overflowing Inaudi had a proposition like this–not before–but behind him: Subtract 297, 122, 999, 492, 322, 260 from 495, 876, 711, 411, 460, 594. It was not the sort of a sum that the ordinary school sharp would care to tackle mentally, but Monsieur Inaudi did it, with his back turned to the board; and he did something else beside. This is where the double brain theory gained its notoriety. All the while that Inaudi was calculating in amounts rather more than the average man’s spending money, he was answering questions, as to the week days of certain dates, from anybody in the audience. Many men fired the date of their birth at him and received back instantly the day of the week. A glance at the questioner’s face was enough to indicate that Inaudi’s answer had been the right one.

In the meantime the hard working manager at the blackboard had been taking violent exercise in subtraction.

‘Haf you finished?’ asked Inaudi, from his place out by the footlights.

‘Non, non,’ was the answer, ‘It ees not quite.’

‘I haf finished,’ said Inaudi, calmly.

There, still looking straight ahead, the Frenchman gave the answer, the same as that which had been worked out on the blackboard: 98, 753, 711, 919, 138, 334. After that came multiplication, square root and finally Monsieur Inaudi repeated without a falter, from beginning to end, every figure that appeared on the blackboard up stage.

Inaudi and his manager were the very pink of politeness when an Eagle man saw them later in their dressing room. More tests in mathematics followed and with them every suspicion of possible treachery vanished.

‘What were you before making use of your ability at figures?’ the reporter asked.

‘Monsieur Inaudi was a shepherd,’ his manager replied for him, ‘a shepherd, with hees sheep, in France. One day, years, ago, he came to Marseilles. A strangaire there learned what he could do in mathematiques. He heard him and took him to Paree. Since then he has been before scienteests, doctairs and all–and all say, ‘Monsieur Inaudi ees a man with two brains.’

‘Have you got a memory for other matters like your memory for figures?’

‘It ees for feegures only,’ said Inaudi, answering for himself.”

A Brief Note From 1898 About A Wife Swap

November 13, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the December 26, 1898 New York Times:

“San Francisco–Frank Burton, an Oregon farmer, traded wives with Frank Hall, a neighbor, a year ago, in order to get a big, strong companion to assist him in a trip to the Klondike. Now his new spouse has left him, taking with her the proceeds of the Alaska trip. Hall and Burton lived near Sylvan, Oregon.

Mrs. Hall was a tall, athletic woman capable of digging a well or baling hay. Mrs. Burton was a tall, athletic woman, capable of digging a well or baling hay. Mrs. Burton was a comely little woman, an ideal housewife, but not very strong. Burton caught the Kiondike fever in 1897. One day when he and his wife were visiting the Halls, Burton suggested that they trade wives. The women made no objection, and after some dickering Hall agreed to trade, Burton giving his wife and ‘four acres of prime onions’ for Mrs. Hall.

Soon afterward Burton and his new wife went to Alaska. Mrs. Burton No. 2 proved an efficient packhorse and carried most of the goods. The couple reached Dawson and prospered.

A few months ago Mrs. Hall told Burton that she had become weary of th slave business and had decided to leave him. She gave him $500 in gold and decamped with with the rest, about $4,500.

Burton is now back on the farm alone, while Hall and the former Mr. Burton are apparently happy. No one knows where Mrs. Hall is.”

Tags: Frank Burton, Frank Hall, Mrs. Burton, Mrs. Hall

Old Print Article: “Death Of An Old Female Hermit,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1880)

November 12, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

An Upstate New York woman, believed to be 111 years old, who had lived as a hermit for more than 90 years, was found dead in her ramshackle house by some hunters, according to an article in the November 10, 1880 New York Times. The story:

“Neversink, N.Y.–While a party of hunters was passing through the Ulster Mountains, a few miles north-west from here, a few days ago, they discovered a small and peculiarly constructed hut. One of the hunters walked up to a front entrance and knocked. There was no response, and he knocked a second time. Still receiving no reply, he raised the latch-string and opened the door. A wretched sight met the his gaze. Lying in a filthy bed was the body of a very aged woman. She had evidently died from starvation and weakness. The hunter called his companions, when a thorough examination of the hut was made. They found no food of any kind, and the appearance of the corpse indicated that the woman had been dead for several days. Lying on a chair near the dead woman’s bed was found a small slip of paper containing these words: ‘My God! I am dying by inches from hunger. My money will be found.’ This was very poorly written with a lead pencil. The hunters then started for the nearest settlement, where they related what they had discovered. Parties returned to the mountains and identified the body as that of Mrs. Sarah Dempsey, 111 years old, who for a long time had lived the life of a hermit. She had been solitary in her habits ever since she was abandoned by a young man with whom she eloped from school when a girl. It is thought that she had money secreted about the house, but search has failed to find it.”

Tags: Mrs. Sarah Dempsey

A Brief Note From 1892 About A Good Joke

November 10, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the September 4, 1892 New York Times:

“St. Paul, Minn.–Miss Josie Letson of Minneapolis has been lying at the point of death at the Northwestern Hospital for the last six weeks, but, because of a remarkable surgical operation, will recover. She had taken nothing but liquid food for over a year and had become so weak and could not raise her head.

As a last resort, physicians, by the use of a stethoscope, located an obstruction in the esophagus about 2 inches below the clavicle, or collar bone. Miss Nelson was given an anesthetic and an incision was made on the left side of her neck about 1 1/2 inches in length.

The doctors dissected down to the aseophagus, opened it, and there found two teeth pointed downward, firmly inserted in the interior walls of the aesophagus. They almost entirely obstructed the passage.

Miss Nelson said that six years ago, while in a fit of laughter, she swallowed the two teeth, which were then attached to a triangular piece of rubber in her gums.”

Tags: Miss Josie Letson

A Brief Note From 1907 About An Aftershock

November 9, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the May 3, 1907 New York Times:

“Milan–Arcangelo Rossi, the tenor, who was with the Conried Opera Company in San Francisco at the time of the earthquake and who, as a result of the fright he experienced, has not since been well, endeavored to commit suicide here to-day.

Recently he lose his voice. This calamity weighed so deeply on his mind that he became insane, and, to-day he cut out his tongue with a pair of scissors. He was taken to a hospital in critical condition.”

Tags: Arcangelo Rossi

A Brief Note From 1905 About A Thirsty Snake

November 7, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the July 17, 1905 New York Times:

“Orange–Mrs. Edward Baum of 72 Lake Street, Bloomfield, placed her baby in its carriage yesterday afternoon and left it in from of her home while she sat at a window watching it. The little one had its milk bottle, and presently Mrs. Baum was startled to see a snake crawling up the side of the carriage.

Mrs. Baum was so frightened that should could not move. She was able to scream, however, and Mrs. Peter H. Springfield, who was upstairs, quickly responded. She dashed the snake with a stone.

It was three feet long, and of the Jersey garter species that is so deadly to bugs and mosquitoes. it probably came from the great Watsessing swamp. Mrs. Springfield thinks it was after the milk in the baby’s bottle.”

Tags: Mrs. Edward Baum, Mrs. Peter H. Springfield

Old Print Article: “Ear Grafting Operation,” New York Times (1903)

November 6, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

“Dr. Nelden advertised for a man willing to sell an ear for $5,000.”

Selling your finger so that your kid can have music lessons is one thing, but a deal between a German restaurateur and a Western millionaire to transplant an ear from the former to the latter is one of the wilder antique newspaper pieces I’ve ever read. The story from the November 19, 1903 New York Times:

“Philadelphia–Dr. Andrew L. Nelden of New York to-day performed the operation of grafting an ear upon the head of a Western millionaire, who the surgeon says he is under bond not to reveal. The operation was to have been performed in New York, but District Attorney Jerome is said to have interfered.

Dr. Nelden advertised for a man willing to sell an ear for $5,000, and from more than 100 applicants he selected a young German, who at one time conducted a restaurant in New York.

Dr. Nelden said to-day:

‘The operation has been performed and promises to be successful. It took place at a private hospital here, where I was assisted by a Philadelphia physician and one from New York. I think they will be willing to have their names known later.

‘The two men were placed in opposite directions upon an elongated bed. One-half of a volunteer’s ear –the upper half–was cut off, together with about four inches of the skin behind the ear.

‘This was twisted around and fitted to a freshly prepared wound upon my patient’s head. The half ear was held in place by bandages, and the two men were bound so that they could not move their heads. They must retain this position for at least twelve days to allow the circulation to come through the flap of skin that still remains as part of the volunteer’s scalp.

‘If this half ear starts to unite properly the lower half of the ear will be grafted in the same manner.'”

Tags: District Attorney Jerome, Dr. Andrew L. Nelden

Old Print Article: “Further Mind Tests For Bronx Monkeys,” New York Times (1909)

November 4, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

“Fuzzy Williams, another chimpanzee, was also picked as a likely subject for experiment.”

Some bored and/or drunk keepers at the Bronx Zoo dressed chimpanzees in cute outfits in the name of “science,” as evidenced by an article in the May 3, 1909 New York Times. An excerpt:

“The experiments which began a year ago with Prof. Melvin Haggerty’s study of ‘monkey psychology’ in the monkey house at the Bronx Park Zoo have been carried on by several of the keepers who took up the work where Mr. Haggerty left off, and they say that some interesting results have been achieved in the last few weeks. James Riley, one of the keepers, who presides over the big family of primates in captivity there, says he is going to write a book about it all. Some of the chapters will probably be written by Fred Engelholm, another keeper who has taken a leading part in the experiments with the monkeys.

It was Riley’s idea–the continuation of Mr. Haggerty’s experiments. Riley was very much interested in the way Mr. Haggerty went about his studies in the monkey house. In fact, Riley was a valuable aid to Mr. Haggerty while the Harvard man was there. He built some of the apparatus which was used in the experiments, such as trapdoor platforms, hollow tubes with secret springs, and other puzzles which the monkeys were supposed to solve in order to get stores of food which were hidden. While Mr. Haggerty’s experiments brought forth some surprising results, they did not go far enough to suit Riley and Engelholm.

When Mr. Haggerty packed up his apparatus and left the zoo with his two trained ringtails, Algernon and Percy. Keepers Riley and Engelbolm started in on their own account. They had plenty of time for their experiments in the Winter, when there were few visitors at the zoo. Each of the keepers had read several books on monkeys, written by men who had conducted experiments along a line which had apparently never been touched.

Baldy, a small black chimpanzee, was chosen as the most intelligent of all the monkeys at the Zoo. Fuzzy Williams, another chimpanzee, was also picked as a likely subject for experiment, and so were two of the ringtails, Mickey and Quickstep Slim. At the outset Riley built a little safe with a combination lock. There were only eight letters to the combination and it was not difficult to open it, provided the letter was known. After a few weeks of instruction Riley says that both of the chimpanzees were able to get into the safe quite readily. Always they found something nice in store for them–a banana, an apple, or some other fruit which monkeys like.

This experiment, however, was along the general line which had been adopted by Mr. Haggerty. Riley and Engelholm say they decided to try to teach the monkeys the significance of certain acts and sounds. They got a small dinner bell, which rang when a small button on top was pressed. They began by pressing this bell every time they fed the monkeys. After a few days they put the bell on a little shelf in Baldy’s cage. At first the chimpanzee insisted on ringing the bell almost constantly. But a few slaps on the hands broke him of this. The keepers taught Baldy to ring the bell whenever he saw them coming with food. It required more than a month’s training to accomplish this. But the keepers had plenty of time and patience.

The next experiment was with blackboard and chalk. The two ringtails, Mickey and Quickstep Slim, were chosen for the experiment. One of the keepers spent an hour or so a day in their cage drawing on the blackboard. The pictures drawn were very crude, only a few rough lines to represent some animal or inanimate object. Both monkeys seemed to take a keen interest in the blackboard work, the keepers say. When Mickey was first handed the chalk and put before the blackboard he seemed to think the chalk was something to eat, and began to nibble it.

‘But,’ says Riley, ‘after a little while he would sit there before the board, drawing just as we had been doing. The marks of the chalk on the board seemed to afford him a never-ceasing pleasure. Quickstep Slim also learned to use the chalk on the board instead of eating it. …

After the blackboard experiments the keepers tried to teach Fuzzy Williams and Baldy how to box with gloves. In this they had a hard task. The chimpanzees were willing enough to romp and to maul each other at times, but they seemed unable to learn how to use the gloves properly. The boxing gloves were made by the keepers and stuffed with wool. They were able to fit the hands of the monkeys. After putting them on, Riley would hold one of the chimpanzees and Engelholm the other, and would ‘bait’ them as cock fighters bait the cocks in the pit.

This experiment is still in its first stages, the keepers say. But they hope to develop boxers in Baldy and the other monkey.

There was another trick which the keepers taught one of the ringtails. It was to sit beside a small tub of water and hold a fishing pole over the tub. Of course the monkey did not know what he was doing, but the spectacle he presented was very amusing.”

Tags: Baldy, Fred Engelholm, Fuzzy Williams, James Riley, Mickey, Prof. Melvin Haggerty, Quickstep Slim

A Brief Note From 1895 About A Holy Frog

November 1, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the September 28, 1895 New York Times:

“Rochester, N.Y.–James Foley of Wheatland is about to become the plaintiff in an unusually interesting case of law. The action is to be entitled James Foley vs. Philip C. Dickinson, and is to be for $5,000 damages for injuries to the plaintiff’s health, alleged to have been caused by drinking impure water purchased from the defendant.

The parties reside near each other on a farm, and Foley purchased his water supply from Dickinson for $12 per year. After using the water two years Foley experienced violent pains in his stomach. Medical aid was summoned and the doctors thought he had dyspepsia.

Shortly afterward, while playing dominoes with his family one evening, a grunting sound was heard, which caused the children to jump and exclaim, ‘What’s that?’

Suddenly it dawned on Foley that he had swallowed some live thing while drinking the water. He came to the city and sought legal advice to-day, but no lawyer has been found yet who will take the case. Foley claims the animal inside him is a frog. He says that recently, while in church, the frog in his stomach sang and roared until it disturbed the meeting and he had to walk out of church.”

Tags: James Foley, Philip C. Dickinson

Old Print Article: “Scared To Death By Mouse,” New York Times (1908)

October 31, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“She had a great fear of mice ever since her childhood.”

Musophobia claimed a young victim in New Jersey, according to an article in the November 23, 1908 New York Times. The story:

“Florence, N.J.--The sight of a tiny mouse which the family cat had caught in her home to-day frightened Miss Mary Isabel Mead to death. She had a great fear of mice ever since her childhood, and so great was her terror that she became ill, and died in a few moments.

Miss Mead had been playing the piano. Her mother, in the kitchen, had noticed that a mouse which had crawled out of its hole, was nibbling at edibles she had stored in the pantry. She immediately called the cat and put him ‘on the job.’ The cat scampered after the rodent and caught the mouse in its mouth. Then it began, pussy-like, to play with it. At this stage Miss Mead entered the kitchen, gayly humming a tune which she had been playing. Sitting down, she glanced under the table where the cat was still teasing the mouse before killing it. The girl’s mother, remembering her fears, tried to warn her, but was too late. With a shriek Miss Mead started up. Then, apparently losing control of her voice, she began trembling with fear. The mother carried her to a sofa and drove the cat out of sight.

In a few moments the girl complained to her mother of a pain in her heart. When Mrs. Mead returned from the medicine chest, where she had gone in the hope of getting something to relieve her, the daughter was dead. Mrs. Mead summoned a physician. He declared that the girl had died of fright. Valvular heart trouble caused by the sight of the mouse ended her life.

‘The girl was actually scared to death,’ said the physician. ‘Living, as she did, in mortal fear of mice, it is not strange that the sight of the creature in the cat’s mouth so terrified her. Her heart gave way under the incredible strain.’

Miss Mead was prominent in the social activities of the town.”

Tags: Miss Mary Isabel Mead

A Brief Note From 1892 About A Barking Man

October 29, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the June 9, 1892 New York Times:

“Lynn, Mass.–John Anderson, a Swede, died this morning a terrible death. Three weeks ago he was bitten on the lip by a dog. The wound was not cauterized. Anderson was taken ill on Monday, and at once had a decided antipathy to water. Tuesday night he began frothing at the mouth and was unable to take food. About midnight he began barking and snarling like a dog and raved in delirium.

In his struggles he bit at his friends and tore the bedclothing to ribbons with his teeth. In his agony he gnawed the footboard and posts of the bed, his teeth sinking deep into the hard wood. He died in the greatest agony.

Consulting physicians pronounced death due to the effect of fright on his mind and its subsequent action on the heart.”

Tags: John Anderson

A Brief Note From 1899 About Childish Fanatics

October 28, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the March 26, 1899 New York Times:

“In New York City about 1832, a period of ‘great awakening’ that begat Mormonism and many other sects–among them one in Kentucky, whose members, in order to win heaven by making themselves as little children, used to crawl on their hands and knees in church, play marbles, trundle hoops, and otherwise manifest their infantile madness.”

Old Print Article: “Perpetual Motion And A Gun,” New York Times (1895)

October 27, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

“He is afraid that capitalists who advanced the money will steal the design..”

The elusive dream of perpetual motion drove an inventor and his backers to an armed standoff, as evidenced by an article in the June 20, 1895 New York Times. The story:

“Newark, N.J.–There is trouble here between stockholders of the Universal Industrial Power Company, a corporation organized to furnish capital for manufacturing a machine for producing perpetual motion, and Michael Patrona, the inventor.

As a result of the trouble Patrona is now guarding with a shot gun the little shop where he claims to have the invention almost complete. He is afraid, he says, that capitalists who advanced the money will steal the design.

Patrona is an Italian and came to this country less than a year ago. Through Civela & Ceste of New-York he was introduced to capitalists here, among them Newark’s richest Italians. H represented to them that he had discovered the secret of perpetual motion.

The result of these representatives was the organization and incorporation of the Universal Industrial Power Company. Money was advanced from time to time to pay for castings, machinery, and other supplies, and also for $1 a day which Patrona was allowed while working on the machine. Thus far $8,000 has been advanced.

Patrona called a few days ago for more funds to put the machine together, claiming that all the parts were finished. The stockholders objected to putting up any more money until they had evidence of the success of Patrona’s labors. He refused this request on the ground that he might be robbed of his invention, on which he had been laboring for years. He assured the stockholders, however, that this would be the last call for funds.

The stockholders were just as obstinate as Patrona. As a result he has armed himself with a shotgun, and stands guard at the entrance to the building which holds what he calls his great invention.

Counsel for both sides will try to effect a compromise.”

Tags: Michael Patrona

A Brief Note From 1885 About Trappers

October 25, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the January 24, 1885 New York Times:

“Kankakee, Ill.–A.H. Butts, Secretary of the Chicago Lumber Company, has just returned from the logging camp near Metropolitan, Mich., a point in the pineries 40 miles north of Escanaba. He says the night before he left camp the mercury had dropped to 43º below zero. This was the climax of four days of very extreme weather. That night an old trapper and Indian hunter named Tom Dudging, returning from hunting, was killed and eaten by wolves within two miles of camp. The wolves there are more numerous and bold than usual on account of the scarcity of small game. His friends, searching for him the next morning, found his closely gnawed bones. Thirteen dead wolves were lying near him pierced by his rifle balls, and his Winchester rifle was by his side with one chamber loaded.”

Tags: A.H. Butts, Tom Dudging

A Brief Note From 1885 About An Adept Swimmer

October 23, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the September 24, 1995 New York Times:

“Canajoharie, N.Y.–For several months past Miss Mary Beekman, an esteemed resident of this village has been on a sick bed. Her trouble seemed to be mostly in her stomach, and she has frequently asserted with great positiveness that she had felt something moving within her. After eating she was always attacked with retching, and after an attack of this kind the other day a little squirming animal or reptile was found in the bowl. It was blackish, had an oval body large as a copper, with legs very long and slim. Several persons examined it, and say it looked like a toad. It was subsequently thrown into the canal and proved to be an adept swimmer. Since the removal of this toad the retching is less frequent, and it is now thought the young woman will recover.”

Tags: Miss Mary Beekman

Old Print Article: “Edith Freeman’s Murder,” New York Times (1879)

October 22, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“It was then indicated to him that a member of his family must die by his hand.”

When a New England farmer believed that God demanded he murder his youngest daughter, he was not alone in his delusion, as evidenced by an article in the May 5, 1879 New York Times. The story:

“Boston–Charles F. Freeman, the Pocasset farmer who lunged a knife into the heart of his little daughter Edith on Thursday morning last, became converted to the ultra views of Second Adventism about a year ago. This sect, which has made its appearance in the more sparsely settled parts of Massachusetts with more or less prominence at various times during the last 30 years, believed not only in the personal coming of Christ, but quite firmly in the continuance of revelations, signs, and miracles. Its followers were led to many acts of fanaticism, and by many citizens were regarded as crazy on the subject of their religion. The fanaticism reached its culmination in this most unnatural crime, which has awakened a widespread feeling of horror.

It seems incredible that so numerous are the members of the sect in that part of Cape Cod, known as Sandwich, that the crime is excused; yet such is the fact, and the murderer of his own child is upheld, while God is charged by some with having broken his promise to a faithful servant in not restoring the child alive to him.

Farmer Freeman became a leader among the Second Adventists. He believed it his mission to preach, and was a zealous exhorter. That great things were in store for him as a missionary among the faithless of the world he did not doubt. As time passed, he came to regard it as his duty to make some great sacrifice, which should result in a miracle and fix the attention of mankind upon the new faith. Some time ago he announced this belief to several of his fellow-worshipers. Two weeks ago, as he says, the long-expected revelation of the necessary sacrifice came to him in the night. It was then indicated to him that a member of his family must die by his hand. He talked the matter over with his wife, and persuaded her not to stand in ‘the Lord’s way,’ as they both considered it. They had two daughters, Bessie, 7 years old, and Edith, 5 years old. The latter was a sunny-haired child, the pet and idol of the household. The father prayed long to know who was appointed as the victim. He says that he prayed that it might be himself, but it was not to be. After patient waiting the second revelation came, late in the night of the murder. The pet Edith was pointed out as the sacrifice. The father was taken aback, but dared not resist the command of God. He awoke his wife and told her what was demanded. Then the mother’s heart refused to acquiesce in the unnatural deed. She begged hard for her darling’s life, but the husband was inexorable. Working on his poor wife’s fear of displeasing God, he at last gained her consent. The scene that followed is horrible beyond precedent. After Freeman had knelt and prayed that he might be spared the test of his faith, he nerved himself for murder. He felt he that he was another Abraham, and that God would either stay his hand or else raise his daughter from the dead, as a reward for his obedience. Then he and his wife went into the bedroom, where their two children lay sleeping, side by side. The mother carried the eldest to her own room. Freeman turned down the bed-clothes from the form of little Edith, raised the knife which he had provided for the occasion, and waited to see if God would not interpose. After a vain watch, he bent forward over the child, and with great care plunged the knife into Edith’s heart. There was an exclamation, and all was over. The insane father clasped his pet in his arms, and held her until he was certain life was extinct. Then he laid down and slept by her side, satisfied that he had done the will of God.

When the news of the murder was told to his fellow-believers, although staggered by such a proof of faith, they joined Freeman in holding that God would restore the child to life. There was some protest, but so infatuated was this entire following, comprising more than a score of respectable people in Pocasset and its vicinity, that they did not look upon the action as a crime, and beloved with the perpetrator that it was done by God’s command.

There was among the Second Adventist band, therefore, the deepest surprise, chagrin, and confusion to-day at the failure of little Edith to rise from the dead. Their faith did not waver in the least; and as an instance of this unparalleled credulity a Journal reporter telegraphs that last night he talked with Mrs. Swift, the child’s grandmother, who begged him not to mention to Mildred, the other child, anything about the murder, saying that there was no need of her knowing anything about the affair, because Edith would be alive again in the morning. Two or three of these peculiar people, however, doubted whether the resurrection would take place to-day, all, nevertheless, being sure that it would come soon. These few are not disheartened, but claim that the truth of their doctrine will yet be shown. But others mutter about “God breaking his promise,’ &c.

The funeral services took place in the Methodist Church this afternoon, the little edifice being crowded to suffocation and hundreds standing around the outside of the building. The Pastor, the Rev. Mr. Williams, assisted by the Baptist clergyman of the village, conducted the services and improved the opportunity to give the deluded Adventists, who all the while kept their eyes on the coffin, some sound advice. He said a great deal in a few words, warning them to give up their false belief while their reason remained. The funeral being over, Alden P. Davis, the leading spirit in the Advent company, now that Freeman is in jail, attempted to make a speech, but was ordered to keep quiet or submit to arrest. When the body had been removed to the little grave-yard, Davis mounted a grave and made just such a speech as might have been expected, saying that he was an infidel until two years ago, when God revealed himself to him. He eulogized the murderer until the crowd interrupted with cries of ‘Choke him,’ ‘Bury him in the open grave,’ &c., and a scene unparalleled in recent New-England history ensued over the coffin and the grave. No violence, however, occurred.”

Tags: Alden P. Davis, Bessie Freeman, Charles F. Freeman, Edith Freeman, Mrs. Freeman, Mrs. Swift, Rev. Mr. Williams

A Brief Note From 1909 About Twin Babies

October 21, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the April 9, 1909 New York Times:

“Pittsburgh, Penn.–Two deaths resulted from the arrival of twin babies in the home of William Hedinger, a farmer, aged 55 years, who lives at Boquet, a hamlet in Westmoreland County, just across from the Allegheny County line, while the mother is in a serious condition.

The twins arrived on Tuesday. Mrs. Martha Smith, the mother of Mrs. Hedinger, went to the Hedinger home to attend her daughter during her illness. She was very happy when a fine boy was born, when the nurse informed her that still another baby had arrived–this time a girl–Mrs. Smith became so excited that she dropped dead. The father was despondent when he learned of the twins and the death of his mother-in-law. Going to the barn yesterday afternoon, he ended his life by shooting himself through his head.”

Tags: Mrs. Hedinger, Mrs. Martha Smith, William Hedinger

A Brief Note From 1903 About Schoolmates

October 19, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the March 23, 1903 New York Times:

“Findlay, Ohio–On his way from school eight-year-old Clarence Hummell, son of Mr. and Mrs. George Hummell of East Front Street, was captured by five schoolmates, forced to accompany them down the Blanchard River, outside the city limits, and there, in a secluded spot, was tied to a stake.

Preparations for his cremation were being made when the little fellow’s cries attracted the attention of men who were employed in the vicinity, and he was rescued by them. Young Hummell’s captors had witnessed the production of ‘Tracey,’ a play in which the hero was the outlaw, and in talking it over made plans for the capture of a victim and his burning at the stake.”

Tags: Clarence Hummell, Mr. and Mrs. George Hummell

Old Print Article: “Two Lizards Kill Girl,” New York Times (1910)

October 18, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

The entire Ohio medical establishment was apparently drunk a century ago, which can be the only explanation for the following primordial nightmare of a story from the December 11, 1910 New York Times:

“Cleveland–A live lizard, six inches in length, and the head of another lizard were discovered in the stomach of Miss Lovie Herman, 19 years old, who died early Friday morning at her home.

Cleveland physicians and surgeons are interested in the case, and a number of them will attend the post-mortem examination to be held at Akron to-day. Miss Herman had been ill a year from a disease which puzzled many specialists.

Last Monday the attending physician succeeded in bringing from the girl’s stomach the live lizard and the head of the second one, but too late to save her life.

The family formerly lived in Millersburg, Ohio, and drank water from a spring. It is supposed that the girl swallowed the lizard’s eggs while drinking, and that they hatched and killer her.”

Tags: Miss Lovie Herman

A Brief Note From 1885 About A Nosebleed

October 17, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the August 1, 1885 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Laredo, Tex.–The 7 year old son of a well to do Mexican is dying a horrible death from a very unusual cause. A few days ago that little fellow had a slight attack of bleeding at the nose and lay down to sleep without removing the blood. While asleep a large green fly deposited its eggs in the bloody nostril. Physicians have extracted over fifty worms, about half an inch long, and have detected evidences of many others eating toward the brain. They say the child will die.”

Old Print Article: “Albany Blood Drinkers,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1881)

October 16, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

“It is simply delicious.”

If we are to believe what journalism tells us, people in Albany during the 19th century visited slaughterhouses to drink the blood of freshly killed animals for its salubrious effects. From the September 18, 1881 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“A reporter of the Albany Evening Journal who has visited the abattoirs in that city, writes as follows of the persons who gather there to drink blood:

Several people, as soon as the throat was cut with sleeves uprolled and grasping a glass, hurried over to the hanging carcass and holding the goblets in turn under the ruby stream, filled their glasses and then drank of the steaming liquid. One, a middle aged man, seemed old in the business, for he threw the contents of the glass off at one draught. Another threw some salt in his glass before drinking, while another could hardly make up his mind whether or not to drink it. At last he shut his eyes and then after three or four efforts succeeded in downing about half a glassful. The reporter approached one of the butchers after he had finished dressing the carcass on which he was at work, and asked, ‘Do the same persons come every day?’ ‘No, they come two or three times a week on the average,’ was the reply. ‘Do any women ever come?’ ‘Yes, there used to be one young girl, but the last I saw of her she seemed to be getting fleshy and has stopped coming altogether.’

“It is richer than the richest of cream.”

One of the invalids was then approached and asked, ‘How do you like blood drinking?’ ‘Well, I’ll tell you. At first when the doctor told me I would have to drink warm bullock’s blood or die, I told him that I preferred the latter, but I reconsidered my thought and came up to the slaughterhouse. I thought at first I could not touch it, and the sight of killing sickened me. But I soon overcame that feeling, and when I raised the first glass to my lips I spilt the contents over me. Next time I shut my eyes and drank it down. It tasted like rich milk, and if I kept my eyes shut, I would have not the known the difference.’ Another one of the drinkers was asked how it tasted. ‘How does it taste?’ said he. ‘It is richer than the richest of cream. It is simply delicious and a drink not to be compared with any potion extant. It is simply the elixir of life. You can feel its strength as it spreads through your veins. If it hadn’t been for its strengthening qualities I would have been dead three years ago.’”

A Brief Note From 1897 About A Bee Sting

October 14, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the October 4, 1897 New York Times:

“Keene, N.H.–Willie, the five-year-old son of Charles Paro of Troy, N.H., was killed yesterday through swallowing a bee. The insect stung him internally. The child died in great agony.”

Tags: Charles Paro, Willie Paro

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