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A Brief Note From 1911 About A Wealthy Baby

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

From the June 5, 1911 New York Times:

“Russell Hopkins, Consul General of Panama, has purchased the house at 1,045 Fifth Avenue for his baby son, John Randolph Hopkins, who was born two months ago in the St. Regis and who is now at his father’s country home, in Irvington-on-Hudson. The baby’s grandmother, Mrs. Lawrence, widow of Dr. J..J. Lawrence, who lives in the Hotel Plaza, said yesterday she would spend $25,000 in furnishing a suite of five rooms in the new house for her grandson.

Mr. Hopkins wished to purchase Mrs. William B. Leeds’s house, and offered $250,000 for it, but it was refused, so he bought the Fifth Avenue house, between Eighty-fifth and Eighty-sixth Streets.

The roof of the house will be covered with a steel wire cage and half converted into a playground. The other half will be used as a small private zoo. Mr. Hopkins has maintained a private zoo at Irvington for years for the entertainment of his guests and the instruction of the village children.

Mr. Hopkins had a baby hippopotamus there last Summer, but, owing to its splashing propensities and inordinate appetite, he had to get rid of it. A bear cub will arrive form the Rocky Mountains this week, sent by one of his old guides to the son and heir.”

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Old Print Article: “Educated Monkey Here For Vaudeville Takes A Cigarette With The Reporters,” New York Times (1909)

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

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“Um, I-ee-ug-crrrr-ssssk.”

Monkeys look and act enough like humans so we usually don’t kill and eat them. One exceedingly human-ish primate was Consul, a chimpanzee promoted by the original William Morris Agency, who dazzled New Yorkers more than a century ago with his ability to act world-weary and chain-smoke. From an article in the June 21, 1909 New York Times:

Dressed in a sailor suit with patent leather shoes on his feet and his sailor cap set flat aback with a slight list over his port ear, Consul, the monkey, which is to be the newest star of the vaudeville stage, received reporters and photographers yesterday on the sun deck of the incoming North German Lloyd liner George Washington. He is an intelligent-looking monkey, about three feet in height when he stands erect. He came originally from Rhodesia, Southeast Africa.

Ivan Drowski, his manager, who has brought the chimpanzee over under contract to the William Morris vaudeville syndicate, said that Consul was not at all shy, but liked attention. He was fond of children, but did not like them to play tricks on him. Drowski spoke to Consul in French, and the chimpanzee responded with guttural sounds that seemed to be understood by his manager.

Here is a specimen of the dialogue which ensued when the reporters asked Consul questions through his interpreter:

“How do you like New York, Consul?” a reporter asked.

When it had been put in French by Drowski the monkey looked at the crowd and said something that sounded like: “Um, I-ee-ug-crrrr-ssssk.”

According to Drowski, what Consul said meant, “Have any of you got a cigarette holder?”

An amber holder was produced by a photographer and handed out to Consul, who put it in his mouth.

To the next question, “Do you like wearing clothes?” the chimpanzee replied, “garrrrr-egre-grummm-goora-umn.” This was translated by Drowksi to mean: “Have any of you got a cigarette, I want to smoke.” Consul was promptly handed a box of Egyptian cigarettes. He selected one carefully, put it in the tube and then said: “Rrr-rag-bwa-gu-gu-.” This meant “give me a match.” He got one at once. “Do you admire the tall building?” the monkey was asked.

Lighting the cigarette Consul leaned carelessly on his hand, blew the smoke lazily through his nose and said something that sounded like ‘Jilde jallou grugru,’ which Drowski said was the equivalent of the American phrase, ‘You make me tired.’

Then his manager took Consul off the rail, where he had been sitting, and put him on the deck, where he tickled the monkey under the arms until he laughed out loud like a schoolboy and turned somersaults to show his joy. William Morris, who was also on the liner, said that Consul had played shuffleboard with his little boy on the awning deck, but they had to be careful, as he was so fond of going up the rigging.

Once, it is said, Consul climbed up to the crow’s nest and played with the lookout man.

During the trip Consul dressed for dinner and had his meals served at a small table with his manager. In the evenings he held receptions, to which the passengers were invited. Apparently he did not like brass bands, and took delight in throwing brazil nuts at the trombone player. Consul is insured for $100,000, and will make his appearance to the New York public at the opening of the roof garden of the American Theatre on July 4.•

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Old Print Article: “Eschewed Food In Hunt For Happiness,” New York Times (1903)

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

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“I’ll become so well trained that I shall not need food.”

Some inhale their meals while others prefer to live on air. Count eccentric inventor Joseph William Sheppard in the latter category. His self-induced demise was the subject of an article in the February 1, 1903 New York Times. An excerpt:

“In developing the theory that a man could train himself so that he could live without food, Joseph William Sheppard came to his death yesterday morning in a room he rented in the boarding house of Mrs. Madden at 159 West Eighty-third Street. The facts preceding the old man’s end came to light because the Board of Health declined to accept a death certificate signed by Dr. Julian P. Thomas of 26 West Ninety-fourth Street. Coroner Scholer has announced an investigation, to take place to-day.

Dr. Thomas it was learned last night, played very little part in the life of Mr. Sheppard, who was an inventor, a Brahmin in belief, a student of strange philosophies, an Englishmen by birth, and so much of a recluse that it is said he did not have a speaking acquaintance with a dozen human beings. Until he began his final treatment, which consisted of starving himself, he lived for fifteen years on a diet of rice, port wine, and honey.

This diet was preliminary, according to his philosophy, to a state of being in which he would be altogether psychic, with no troublesome physical attributes at all. This strange idea caused his wife to get a divorce from him some years ago, his two daughters to leave his home, and his only son to dodge his society as much as possible.

Dr. Thomas, who is a food specialist and rarely visits patients at their homes, knew Mr. Sheppard two years ago. It was about that time that the inventor, then sixty-two years old, began to plan starvation, and it was inferred by those who knew him that he visited the physician simply to study the mind of one who seemed foolish enough to believe n nourishment for unhappy mortals’ stomachs.

The doctor’s advice was not taken, and their acquaintance had little of professional value in it. Then Dr. Thomas lost track of his mock patient until last Thursday, when he received a summons to visit the inventor. The message came from the old man’s son. W.B. Sheppard, manager of the American Brazing Company of 532 West Twenty-second Street. The physician went to 159 West Eighty-third Street. The inventor was so weak and emaciated that he could hardly lift his hand.

‘You must eat or you will die,’ the doctor said to him.

‘I don’t need to eat,’ was the reply. ‘I’ll become so well trained that I shall not need food. You were not called in here to satisfy me, but simply because my son insisted. You are called for the protecting of my family.’

All efforts to persuade him to take nourishment, according to both the son and the doctor, were in vain, and the physician went away. Shortly before the old man died there was another summons, but Dr. Thomas declined to respond, saying it was no use for him to visit a patient who would not do what was ordered. When the death certificate was sent to the Health Board it was accompanied by the following note from the physician:

Enclosed you will find a death certificate for Mr. Joseph William Sheppard. You will note that I say he died from ‘starvation.’ Mr. Sheppard had some very peculiar ideas and hung to them tenaciously. For the cure of the trouble he had decided that he would take a prolonged fast; exactly how long he fasted we do not know. His friends tried to get him to eat, but it was utterly impossible to persuade him to do so. He continued his fast in spite of all efforts–in fact, until he died. His friends and relatives tried to get him to eat, but he would not. They called me in, but I could not influence him to take food. I hope that this report, in conjunction with the death certificate, will be satisfactory. 

When Dr. Thomas was seen last night, after giving the facts told above he said Mr. Sheppard had been urged at the last to take just a little fruit juice, if nothing else. It had been a theory of the old man at one time that he might break his rule to the extent of eating ‘something that was ripened in the sun.’ But at last he had gotten beyond this stage, and not even a drop from an orange was permitted to pass his lips.” 

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A Brief Note From 1908 About A Hardware Store

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

A brief note from the March 22, 1908 New York Times:

“Berlin–The German medical world is aghast at the revelation made through an operation just performed at Herschberg by a Silesian surgeon upon a 16-year-old girl who was suffering from a strange internal growth.

The opening of this growth revealed the presence of over three pounds of iron, consisting of 1,410 one-inch nails, 160 bent pins, 70 double-pointed needles, and 7 nail heads. For variety’s sake there were four splinters of glass. The girl came out of the operation splendidly.

No explanation has been published to show how it came about that this large stock of hardware got together in the young woman’s interior and became encysted there.”

Old Print Article: “Clock For Blind And Deaf,” New York Times (1903)

September 8, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

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“The clock not only tells the time, but alarms the sleeper by agitating a lever which is connected by a string to a pillow.”

Novel electrical devices aimed at aiding the blind and deaf were the focus of a poorly written article in the October 28, 1903 New York Times. The story:

“Boston--W.E. Shaw of Brooklyn gave an ‘electrical party’ last night, the feature of which was the exhibition of the electric clock for blind deaf-mutes. Mr. Shaw is deaf and dumb, and he was assisted in demonstrating the workings of his invention by Tommy Stringer, blind, deaf, and dumb, who is making great progress in the sciences.

The clock not only tells the time, but alarms the sleeper by agitating a lever which is connected by a string to a pillow, causing the pillow to move up and down, the vibrations being communicated to the sleeper by a touch.

A circuit is closed, by which an electric current is sent through a small incandescent lamp in front of a parabolic mirror, the rays of which are thrown into the face of the sleeper. It releases a spring connected with a hammer, which falls upon a fulminating cap, the loud explosion of which at close quarters is perceptible to a deaf person.

It also gives notice of the ‘entrance of burglars by any of the above methods, by means of connection by a wire with the doors and windows. It gives indication of fire by electric thermostats placed anywhere on the premises.”

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A Brief Note From About 1883 A Ticklish Woman

September 8, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the November 1, 1883 New York Times:

“Charles M. Sams, assistant purser of the steam ship Nacoochee, of the Savannah Line, was shot in the head early yesterday morning by Jennie Mitchell, of No. 106 West Thirty-first Street, in T.H. Moffat’s shooting gallery, No. 484 Sixth Avenue, and he died in New York Hospital at 9 o’clock A.M. The homicide, it is believed, was an accident due to Sams disconcerting the aim of the woman while she was about to shoot at a clay pipe. Sams and a friend named Harris had been on a frolic with Jennie Mitchell and Alice Sinclair since 10:30 o’clock on Tuesday night. After eating and drinking at a restaurant they went into the shooting gallery to have some fun. Sams picked up a Ballard rifle of 22 calibre and broke a pipe at the targets. The woman Mitchell then wanted to shoot, and, although the men laughed at her, she had the rifle reloaded and attempted in an awkward way to take aim. Sam stood a little in advance of her at her right, and as she was sighting the gun he playfully tickled her under the arm. The girl swung around suddenly and the rifle went off just as Sam’s head was in front of the muzzle.”

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Old Print Article: “Marconi Testing His Mars Signals,” New York Times (1920)

September 6, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

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“Is Mars sending us signals?”

Marconi on Mars would be a great title for a Philip Glass composition, but it’s also an apt description of a bizarre chapter in the career of inventor Guglielmo Marconi, who appears to have suspected roughly 90 years ago that Martians were sending Morse code messages to Earth. His beliefs were the basis for reportage in the January 29, 1920 New York Times. The story:

“London–William Marconi informs The Daily Mail that investigations are in progress regarding the origin of mysterious signals which he recently described as being received on his wireless instruments. He hopes to make a statement on the subject at an early date. 

Marconi insists that ‘nobody can yet say definitely whether they originate on the earth or in other worlds.’

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Paris–French savants are inclined to attribute to earthly causes the unexplained wireless impulses which Mr. Marconi says may come from sources outside of this planet and its atmosphere. Most of the French press treat the whole matter as a joke, under such headings as ‘Hello, Central, give me the moon,’ but some of the more serious journals devote studied attention to the question raised by Marconi.

M. Branly, a leading wireless authority, thinks that the fact that signals come in letters of Morse code tends to discredit the theory that they are of other than earthly origin. He says:

‘If we attribute these phenomena to solar eruptions, how can we explain that they come in Morse? If we attribute them to interplanetary sources (admitting that planets are inhabited) we must then admit that their people have reached a degree of development comparable to ours and that their science has led them to construct instruments similar to ours. This would be a succession of coincidences that I would call improbable.

‘It might be that solar eruptions were the cause of wireless phenomena, since light has certain effects on electromagnetic currents. It might be possible that these disturbances caused raps in our receiving instruments, but not letters of the Morse code.’ M. Branly recalled that there existed a prize of 100,000 francs for communication and answer between the earth and any planet.

M. Baillaud, Director of the Paris Observatory, said:

‘Frankly, I am in ignorance of this supernatural correspondence. It would seem that if New York and London received these messages, we should have received them at the Eiffel Tower.’

General Ferrie, head of the military wireless, said:

‘We have heard nothing abnormal recently at the Eiffel Tower. We have disturbances which bother our communication, but they are continual. We attribute them to atmospheric variations and sometimes to the magnetic influence of the sun. Wireless men do not know much about these currents. They are more frequent in the Summer than in Winter. They are sometimes so intense that we can receive no messages. We call them parasites of radio but we do not think that they are supernatural.’

M. Bigourdian, chief of the Observatory Service, advances the theory that the planets and sun do have something to do with the wireless phenomena.

‘The explanation,’ said he, ‘is that when certain planets attain a position with regard to the sun such that the summits of their mountains are lighted and the bases are dark, the summits appear as points, distinct from the body of the planet, and these points of light may have an influence. But I know nothing about their talking in Morse.’

The Petit Journal says that French experts will do well to improve the communication service in France before they go about communicating with Mars. The Matin advances the theory that Hertzian waves from the sun are responsible for it. It says:

‘Here is a possible explanation: The cosmic Hertzian waves noted by Marconi come from clouds giving forth electrical discharges which occur in the solar atmosphere and which should engender Hertzian waves, analogous to those earthly clouds, but infinitely more powerful.

‘Nineteen years ago a French scientist demonstrated that the sun sent us Hertzian waves, and on the summit of Mont Blanc he made experiments to study these waves. These experiments did not give good results, but today, with receiving instruments more sensitive, it is possible that the phenomena noted by Marconi are the same as those the French savant announced.’

Camille Flammarian, the astronomer, holds that all the world are inhabited. As to the Marconi ‘revelations,’ he says:

‘I think with Marconi that the interruptions in the wireless messages may have their cause in a magnetic storm on the sun. The sun and earth are joined, in spite of their immense distance apart, by invisible ties of attraction. It is not poetic fiction to compare them to two hearts which beat in unison. This globe, which appears to many of us stable, possesses a great amount of mobility. It is the plaything of fourteen different movements.

Is Mars sending us signals? That is the question for which a long time has interested us, since the publication of the Martian geographical charts, on which were observed singular features, the origin of which did not appear to be due merely to chance. We should be glad to take a step further toward our neighbors of the skies, who, perhaps for centuries have addressed to us signals to which we have never known how to reply, terrestrial humanity being still absorbed with the grosser demands of material affairs.

‘Astronomers who have known how to withdraw themselves somewhat from these material affairs hope to have soon an opportunity of following out to a triumphal end of the investigations already commenced.'”

 

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A Brief Note From 1911 About Roast Camel

September 5, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the December 18, 1911 New York Times:

“Paris–Roast camel will be the culinary novelty to be served on Christmas Eve in fashionable restaurants here. Parisians in search of the traditional eccentric delicacy for their annual festival found the bear cotoiets, which were served last year, rather tame, and missed the elephant’s foot, which had figured prominently on the menus of 1909.

The opportunity for presenting the revelers with real camel this year was afforded by a well-known Hamburg animal trainer, who informed prominent Paris butchers that he had three camels for sale. The reason he offered them was that he had bought them in Algeria some months ago with a view of training them for circus work, but he had been disappointed with their artistic capacity. The three animals, which cost $220 each, were killed to-day at the Villette slaughter house, and their quarters, which were prominently displayed in the shops of certain butchers, attracted the attention of great crowds all the afternoon.

A competition has been started  among the chefs of several restaurants as to the best manner of cooking the rather tough meat of the desert runners.”

Old Print Article: “Soul Has Weight, Physician Thinks,” New York Times (1907)

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

“The instant the heart ceased to beat there was the sudden and almost uncanny diminishment in weight.”

Good science wasn’t at the heart of an experiment aimed at weighing “souls,” as recorded in an article in the March 11, 1907 New York Times:

“Boston–That the human soul has a definite weight, which can be determined when it passes from the body, is the belief of Dr. Duncan Macdougall, a reputable physician of Haverhill. He is at the head of a Research Society which for six years has been experimenting in this field. With him, he says, have been associated four other physicians.

Dr. Macdougall’s object was to learn if the departure of the soul from the body was attended by any manifestation that could be recorded by any physical means. The chief means to which resort was made was the determination of the weight of a body before and after death.

The method followed was to place a dying patient in bed upon one of the platforms of a pair of scales made expressly for the experiments, and then to balance this weight by placing an equal weight in the opposite platform. These scales were constructed delicately enough to be sensitive to a weight of less than one-tenth of an ounce. In every case after death the platform opposite the one in which lay the subject to the test fell suddenly, Dr. Macdougall says. The figures on the dial index indicated the diminishment in weight. 

Dr. Macdougall told of the results of his experiments as follows:

‘Four other physicians under my direction made the first test upon a patient dying of tuberculosis. This man was one of the ordinary type of the usual American temperament, neither particularly high strung nor of marked phlegmatic disposition. We placed him, a few hours preceding death, upon a scale platform, which I had constructed and which was accurately balanced. Four hours later with five doctors in attendance he died.

‘The instant life ceased the opposite pan fell with a suddenness that was astonishing–as if something had suddenly been lifted from the body. Immediately all the usual deductions were made for physical loss of weight, and it was discovered that there was still a full ounce of weight unaccounted for.

‘I submitted another subject afflicted with the same disease and nearing death to the same experiment. He was a man of much the same temperament as the preceding patient and of about the same physical type. The same result happened at the passing of his life. The instant the heart ceased to beat there was the sudden and almost uncanny diminishment in weight.

‘As experimenters, each physician in attendance made figures of his own concerning this loss, and, at a consultation, these figures were compared. The unaccountable loss continued to be shown.

"The subject was that of a man with a larger physical build, with a pronounced sluggish temperament."

“The subject was that of a man with a larger physical build, with a pronounced sluggish temperament.”

‘But this was less remarkable than what took place in the third case. The subject was that of a man with a larger physical build, with a pronounced sluggish temperament. When life ceased, as the body lay in bed upon the scales, for a full minute there appeared to be no change in weight. The physicians waiting in the room looked into each other’s faces silently, shaking their heads to the conviction that our test had failed.

‘Then suddenly the same thing happened that had occurred in the other cases. There was a sudden diminution in weight, which was soon found to be the same as that of the preceding experiments.

‘I believe that this in this case, that of a phlegmatic man slow of thought and action, that the soul remained suspended in the body after death, during the minute that elapsed before it came to the consciousness of its freedom. There is no other way of accounting for it, and it is what might be expected to happen in a man of the subject’s temperament.

‘Three other cases were tried, including that of a woman, and in each it was established that a weight of from one-half to a full ounce departed from the body at the moment of expiration.”

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A Brief Note From 1911 About Apes Dining

September 3, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the May 16, 1911 New York Times:

“The New York Zoological Society celebrated its second annual members’ day yesterday at the Zoological Garden. The members of the society are important adjuncts of the New York Zoo. Dues of members help to support the Zoo. There are 1,469 members paying $10 a year, in addition to the life members, benefactors and founders. The meetings are held at the Zoo, so that the members may see and appreciate all the interesting features, which are due to a great extent to them.

This year they met in the new Administration Building, which was opened last November and to which members are always admitted. The National Collection of Heads and Horns, one of the finest in the world, and which occupies a large part of the second floor of the building, had a new feature yesterday, the great white rhinoceros head of the animal shot by Col. Roosevelt, which was placed in the collection on Saturday.

The visitors arrived at the Administration Building at 2 P.M., and, after visiting the collection, wandered around the Garden as they pleased until 4 o’clock, when they came back for tea. The feeding of the monkeys was the sight of the day, the seven great apes sitting at a long table and manipulating forks with skill, while Susie, the young chimpanzee recently purchased from the monkey expert, Prof. Richard L. Garner, sat at a low table in the very front, the only one of the animals who was dressed for the occasion. Susie was wearing a new style harem skirt. She ate like a lady.”

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Old Print Article: “Electricity Used As An Anaesthetic,” New York Times (1910)

September 2, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

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“The electricity was turned on, and it numbed the legs beneath the knees as much as cocaine would.”

Electricity as an elixir and sleep-inducer was the life’s work of a pioneering European doctor named Louise E. Rabinovitch. Her experiments were profiled in the January 26, 1910 issue of the New York Times. The story:

“Hartford, Conn.–Electricity as an anaesthetic was used with success in an operation at St. Francis’s Hospital to-day. The electricity was applied by Dr. Louise E. Rabinovitch of Paris, who lectured last night before the physicians of this city on the possibility of rescuing personas who had supposedly been killed by electricity, especially those subjected to the current in the electric chair. While a patient was being subjected to the electrical current by Dr. Rabinovitch four toes were amputated by Dr. Marcus M. Johnson, and the man felt no pain.

The name of the patient is not disclosed by the surgeons concerned. They stated only that his toes were frozen as a result of exposure in the recent storm and he has been at St. Francis’s Hospital for several days. He was told that it would be necessary to amputate four toes. He consented to the operation, but said he did not want to take ether. Dr. Rabinowitz was told of the case last night and suggested electricity as an anaesthetic. The patient agreed to the plan to-day although he was told that it was novel to surgery and that the surgeons could not give him the slightest encouragement as to the outcome.

When the man had been made ready for the operation straps were fastened about his legs at points designated by Dr. Rabinovitch. On these straps were electrodes to which were attached wires connecting with a battery. The electricity was turned on, and it numbed the legs beneath the knees as much as cocaine would. The patient was blindfolded and the surgeons went to work. The toes were amputated and the patient soon was released from the electrical attachments.

He said that he had not felt the slightest sensation during the cutting and had not known when the surgeons were doing it. During the operation he talked with the attendants and laughed at jokes. Three toes of his left foot and the large toe of his right foot were amputated. 

Dr. Rabinovtich’s plan consists of sending an interrupted current of electricity through the affected part of the human body to be operated upon. No other part is affected by the fluid. A current of fifty-four volts was used in this instance, reduced by means of a commutator of one-tenth of that amount. The interruptions of the current were estimated at 20,000 a minute. The secret of the use of the device is in correctly applying the electrode to the nerve that controls the affected part.

Dr. Johnson said there were no bad after effects, and the patient suffered no pain. He declared that the feat marked an epoch in anaesthetic surgery, and that other forms of anaesthesia were likely to be entirely supplanted by Dr. Rabinovitch’s process. Dr. Rabinovitch was highly elated over the success of her device.

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Dr. Rabinovitch has been experimenting for some time with her theories of electric sleep at St. Anne’s Hospital in Paris, where the city fitted up a laboratory for her. She is a graduate of the Universities of Paris and Berlin. She has invented four electrical machines for various humanitarian purposes. She has successfully experimented on dogs, rabbits, and other animals which were apparently killed by electricity, and has succeeded in restoring animals in many demonstrations.”

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A Brief Note From 1901 About A Yachting Trip

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

From the April 29, 1901 New York Times:

“Sidney, N.S.W.–Herr Mercke, a German millionaire, who was cruising in his yacht, and Herr Caro, his private secretary, were recently murdered by natives of the Island of New Britain, off the northeast coast of Papua. Herr Caro’s body was eaten.”

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Captain Henry Wirz, Erstwhile Warden (1865)

September 1, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Photography, Urban Studies | Permalink

As far as domestic atrocities in America can be measured, I would think that the conduct at Fort Sumter, the Civil War military prison in Georgia, ranks with anything after slavery and the treatment of Native Americans. The open-air stockade prison (nicknamed Andersonville by inmates) held 45,000 prisoners during its 14-month existence, with nearly a third succumbing to starvation, lack of drinking water and disease. Swiss-born Confederate officer Henry Wirz commanded the camp and was known for his brutality and severity. Even though the lack of supplies and pen-type jail weren’t his fault alone, Wirz was the one executed for the crimes against humanity. The classic photograph above shows him as he’s about to have his sentence carried out. From the story of his hanging in the November 10, 1865 New York Times:

“WIRZ was executed this morning at 10:30 o’clock. Nobody who saw him die to-day will think any the less of him. He disappointed all those who expected to see him quiver at the brink of death. He met his fate, not with bravado, or defiance, but with a quiet, cheerful indifference. Smiles even played upon his countenance until the black coat shut out from his eyes the sunlight and the world forever. His physical misery, whatever it may have been, was completely hidden in his last and successful effort to die bravely and without any exhibition of trepidation or fear, so his step was steady, his demeanor calm, his tongue silent, except as he offered up his last prayer, and all his bearing evinced more of the man than at any time since his first incarceration. The crowd said he was a braver man than PAYNE, or HERROLD, or ATZEROTH. Perhaps it was the bravery of a desperate man, who knows mercy is beyond his hope. Nevertheless, he met his fate with unblanched eye, unmoving feature, and a calm, deliberate prayer for all those whom he has deemed his persecutors. He seemed to have convinced himself of his own innocence, and his last principal conversation was full of protestations that he died unjustly, and that others were just as guilty as he.

Yesterday afternoon, LOUIS SCHADE, WIRZ junior counsel, communicated to him the result of his last appeal to the President. WIRZ said he had no hope. He was ready to die. He had sought and received religious consolation, and it mattered little whether he died now or was spared to die a natural death, for die soon he must. An attache of the Swiss Consulate also called to ascertain the residence of his relatives, that they might be officially apprised of his death. WIRZ said he had been greatly wronged by the refusal of the Swiss Consul to receive money to enable him to conduct his defence.

WIRZ ate his supper as usual, and retiring, slept soundly the best part of the night. This morning he arose early and partook of a moderate breakfast. Soon after, R.B. WINDER, who was associated with WIRZ in the command at Andersonville, was allowed to visit him, and the two had a long conversation, devoted to a review of their career at the stockade, a review of the evidence, and mutual assertions that they were equally guilty, or rather, equally innocent, and that if WIRZ deserved hanging, so did WINDER. WINDER then bade WIRZ an emotional farewell at half-past eight o’clock. Mr. SCHADE was admitted for a farewell interview, during which the prisoner reiterated his thanks for his counsel’s efforts, and expressed himself as to his innocence, much as he had done before. It is due to Mr. SCHADE to say that he has been indefatigable in seeking to prolong the life of his client. He left the prison at the close of the interview, and went to the President’s, where at ten thirty-five he made his last appeal. WIRZ was hung at ten thirty-two.

After Mr. SCHADE left WIRZ, his spiritual advisers, Fathers BOYLE and WIGET entered and remained with him until he was led forth to the scaffold.

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At thirty minutes past ten, his hands and legs having been pinioned by straps, the noose was adjusted by L.J. RICHARDSON, Military Detective, and the doomed man shook hands with the priests and officers. At exactly thirty-two minutes past ten, SYLVESTER BALLOU, another detective, at the signal of the Provost-Marshal, put his foot upon the fatal spring, the trap fell with a heavy noise, and the Andersonville jailor was dangling in the air. There were a few spasmodic convulsions of the chest, a slight movement of the extremities, and all was over. When it was known in the street that WIRZ was hung, the soldiers sent up a loud ringing cheer, just such as I have heard scores of times on the battle-field after a successful charge. The sufferings at Andersonville were too great to cause the soldiers to do otherwise than rejoice at such a death of such a man.

After hanging fourteen minutes the body was examined by Post-Surgeon FORD, and life pronounced to be extinct. It was then taken down, placed upon a stretcher, and carried to the hospital, where the surgeons took charge of it.

No sooner had the scaffold and the rope done its work, and become historically famous, than relic seekers began their work. Splinters from the scaffold were cut off like kindling wood, and a dozen feet of rope disappeared almost instantly. The interposition of the guard only saved the whole thing from being carried off in this manner.

The surgeons held a post-mortem, and an examination of the neck showed the vertebrae to be dislocated. His right arm, which has been the chief cause of his physical misery, was in a very bad condition, in consequence of an old wound having broken out afresh. His body also showed severe scrofulitic cruptions.

Agreeably to a request from WIRZ, Father BOYLE received the body to-day, and delivered it to an undertaker, who will inter it, to await the arrival of Mrs. WIRZ, who is expected soon. WIRZ left few or no earthly effects. The only things in his room after the execution were a few articles of clothing, some tobacco, a little whisky, a Testament, a copy of Cummings on the Apocalypse, and a cat, which was WIRZ’s pet companion. This is all there is left of him.”

Andersonville survivor, May 1965.

Andersonville survivor, May 1865.

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A Brief Note From 1908 About A Bear Trapper

August 30, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the February 6, 1908 New York Times:

“Asheville, N.C.–News was received here to-day of the death at his home in Yancey County of Big Tom Wilson, the noted bear trapper, who found the body of Prof. Elisha Mitchell of Yale, for whom Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Rockies, was named.

Dr. Mitchell lost his life in trying to ascend Mount Mitchell alone. A party of 500, led by United States Senator Zebulon Vance, continued the search for two weeks, but Dr. Mitchell’s body was found by Big Tom at the foot of a deep precipice.

Big Tom was one of the pioneer settlers of the mountains and held the record for having killed more bears than any one else. He had 110 to his credit, and his son Adolph ninety. He was known as the guide of the Black Mountains. He was seven feet tall and weighed 250 pounds. He was 85 years old.

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Old Print Article: “Raffle For Three Girls,” New York Times (1897)

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

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“He proposed at first to have an auction, and to sell them to the highest bidder.”

You can’t sell your husband and raffling off your daughters probably isn’t a great idea, either. But that was the plan carried out by a struggling Wisconsin farmer featured in an article in the September 15, 1897 New York Times. The story:

“Maple, Wis.–During the past few days the Finnish settlement, a few miles south of Maple, has been in a state of great excitement over a remarkable succession of events. There are about two hundred residents in the settlement–all farmers, thrifty and nearly all in comfortable circumstances. There is a large surplus of unmarried young men in the community and a scarcity of marriageable young women, so that every female old enough to be courted receives the attentions of from one to a dozen rival lovers. A widower named Hanes Dorfkle is one of the settlers, and has been living, since the death of his wife, with three pretty daughters in a little log house somewhat removed from the main settlement. Lately Dorfkle met with a number of reverses which crippled him financially. He had accumulated enough money since his residence there to pay for a forty-acre tract of farming land and to equip the farm with stock and the necessary implements for tilling the soil and harvesting the crops, but this year his crops were poor, his oxen died, and his poultry was carried away by hawks, so that while his neighbors saw plenty on hand to carry them through the coming long Winter, the old man saw starvation looking into the faces of himself and three daughters. Something must be done, and the wary old Finlander set to thinking out a scheme for replenishing his depleted exchequer. At last an idea came to him, and he lost no time in shaping it into a lucrative scheme. He loved his three daughters and they loved him dearly, but they had dozens of young men lovers, and sooner or later they would leave him to live the remainder of his days in poverty and loneliness. Why not realize something on his daughters? It was a good scheme, and he proceeded at once to carry it out.

Girls Agree to a Raffle

The old man, Dorfkle, held a conference with his three daughters, and unfolded to them his plan for making money. He proposed at first to have an auction, and to sell them, one by one, to the highest bidder, but the young women shrank from such a barbarous suggestion, though they signified their willingness to acquiesce in any legitimate scheme of money making that the father might devise. At last the old gent thought it might be a good scheme to have a raffle, and so informed the three dutiful young women. They objected at first, on the ground that they might be obliged to accept men as their husbands who were unsatisfactory to them, but when the father promised that the tickets should be sold to persons only who were acceptable in all respects, there was nothing left for the girls to do but to assent, and this they readily did.

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“Every man in the village, married or single, rich or poor, homely or handsome, had possessed himself of one or more chances for the hand of one of the fair daughters.”

So it was whispered about the neighborhood one day last week that Farmer Dorfkle had decided to raffle off his daughters, and the day later the whisperings were confirmed, for Mr. Dorfkle himself appeared among the people with a basketful of pasteboard cards, upon each of which the information was contained that the holder thereof was entitled to one chance on one or another of the three maidens fair. The tickets went like hot cakes at $1 apiece, and within a few days the loving father had exchanged his basketful of pasteboards for a like measure of shining silver and gold. In his anxiety to dispose of all the tickets. Mr. Dorfkle forgot his promise to discriminate in favor of the best-looking and most prosperous suitors in the settlement. He took everybody’s dollar in exchange for a ticket, and the consequence was that every man in the village, married or single, rich or poor, homely or handsome, had possessed himself of one or more chances for the hand of one of the fair daughters long before the time set for the raffle.

Prizes Drawn at the Schoolhouse

The day came for the great event, and the schoolhouse was packed to the outer door with men, women, and children. People in neighboring towns had heard of the novel affair, and came from all directions to witness the final proceedings. Two hundred and fifty tickets upon each girl had been sold, and the arrangement was that each prize should be disposed of separately under the auspices of a committee selected out of the audience. Tickets numbered to correspond with those sold were placed in one box, and another box contained 240 blanks and one number marked ‘Prize.’ Two young girls were then selected to preside over the boxes, and the drawing commenced, the tickets being removed from both boxes simultaneously until the lucky number drew the prize. For half an hour the audience sat in suspense, while the two girls slowly withdrew the numbers and compared them under the vigilant eyes of the committeemen, but at last the number 115 was responded to by the exclamation ‘Prize!’ and the first raffle was over. Then followed a wild skirmish for the owner of the lucky ticket, and when found he was carried to the front over the heads of a good-natured crowd. The holder of the winning ticket proved to be a thrifty young man of the settlement, who had long sought for the hand of the eldest daughter, Hulda, whose husband he was now to become.

A Married Man Gets No. 2

Next came the raffle for the second daughter, a rosy-cheeked lass of twenty-two Summers. This time the winning ticket was held by one of the richest men in the town, but, unfortunately, he was a married man with a large family. This caused a long delay in the proceedings, during which the entire audience entered into a heated discussion as to what the disposition should be made of the ticket, but it was finally agreed that the lucky number should be sold at auction then and there. This was done, and, after considerable spirited bidding, Miss Minnie, the second daughter, became the prospective bride of a middle-aged widower, who paid $50 for the prize.

Then came the raffle for the youngest daughter, and things were progressing smoothly enough, when an error was discovered which caused a bitter altercation between two ticket holders, and came near precipitating a free-for-all fight among the spectators. Through carelessness the winning number had been duplicated, and there were two claimants for the hand of daughter No. 3. At length a general row was averted, however, by the adoption of a happy suggestion. These two claimants resorted to a game of ‘freeze out’ for a determination of the matter, and for two hours they sat at a card table, surrounded by an excited crowd of friends, manipulating the pasteboards for a bride. Slowly the stack of chips in front of the unlucky player dwindled to a paltry few, and at last his opponent swept the board, and the game was decided in favor of a young man named Gustav Johnson, who labors by the day on the farm of his father.

True to their promises the three daughters will allow themselves to be led to the altar by the three lucky winners, and the three weddings will take place within a month, upon which occasion a grand dance will be given in the schoolhouse to all the people of the settlement.”

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A Brief Note From 1897 About A House Call

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

From the September 5, 1897 New York Times:

“Rutland, Vt.–Mrs. Horace I. Brookes, daughter of Col. Le Grand B. Cannon of New York City, has had her right leg amputated at her father’s Summer home, Overlake, in Burlington.

Mrs. Brookes has been a great sufferer for some time, and it was believed that the time for removing her leg in order to save her life had gone by.

On her arrival at Overlake, however, she said that she felt equal to the operation, which was finally performed by Dr. L.M. Bingham, assisted by Dr. Henry Jackson.

The patient rallied quickly, suffering no shock whatever, since which time she has continued to improve and is now past all danger, and is on the road to the rapid recovery of her accustomed good health.”

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Old Print Article: “Sold Her Husband,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1897)

August 27, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“On the opposite side of the hall lived the Widow Gray, a dealer in oil cloth.”

Even if you can get $25 for your husband–and few women can–you still aren’t legally allowed to sell him. That was the lesson one young wife learned, according to an article in the August 10, 1897 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Mrs. Hannah Robinson, 25 years old, sold her husband, John, for $25 to Mrs. Jennie Gray, a widow, last Thursday, and now she regrets it. The Robinson were married in Scotland on April 30, 1888, and they have a son 2 years old, who is being cared for by the grandfather in Jersey City.

For the past year the Robinsons have lived on the ground floor rear of 621 West Forty-fifth Street, New York. On the opposite side of the hall lived the Widow Gray, who is a dealer in oil cloth. Both Robinson and his wife peddle oil cloth from house to house that they bought from the Widow Gray. Recently Mrs. Robinson noticed that her husband and Mrs. Gray were infatuated with each other and on Thursday Mrs. Robinson made a proposition to sell her husband to the widow for $25.

The widow agreed to this and a bill of sale was made out by a notary. Mrs. Robinson finally repented of her act and told her neighbor about it. They all informed her that selling a husband was against the law and advised her to apply for the arrest of the couple in court. Yesterday she obtained a summons for Magistrate Wentworth at Yorkville Court, returning this morning, but the couple paid no attention to it.

She also called upon lawyer Benjamin F. Greenbthal of 805 Amsterdam Avenue and laid the case before him. He at once procured papers for absolute divorce against Robinson, which he managed to serve on him yesterday afternoon.”

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A Brief Note From 1876 About A Finger

August 26, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the April 19, 1876 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“This morning Officer Maloney of the Washington Street Precinct found a human finger lying in the gutter in front of No. 310 Hicks Street. The finger appears to have been chopped off with some sharp instrument, and does not look as though it had been amputated.”

A Brief Note From 1921 About A Nose Job

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

From the August 16, 1921 New York Times:

“Paris–When a landlord at Lille called for his rent his tenant, Jean Batiste Caillaux, bit off his nose. For doing so Caillaux was yesterday sent to prison for three months and fined 100 francs.

According to the landlord’s story, he had had trouble for some time past about collecting the rent from his tenant, and the agent having failed, he went himself to do it. From words the two passed to blows and from blows to a wrestling match, in the course of which Caillaux got his teeth well into the other’s nose and bit off a considerable piece. That stopped the fight.

Caillaux was considerably embarrassed by his mouthful and spat it out on the ground, whereupon the owner of the nose made a grab for it. Carrying it in his hands, he ran to a doctor and got it successfully sewed on again.”

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Old Print Article: “The Cremation Of Mrs. Pitman,” New York Times (1878)

August 21, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

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“A number of years ago he became interested in the subject of cremation.”

Water worried Dr. Francis Julius LeMoyne, but he was fine with fire. The nineteenth-century Pennsylvania doctor thought that washing the skin was hazardous and that bodies buried in cemeteries were poisoning the drinking water. This latter belief drove him to found America’s first crematorium. Not even four dozen bodies were reduced to dust at the LeMoyne crematorium during its 25 years of existence, but it still was a landmark operation. From an article about the physician in the February 14, 1878 New York Times:

“Mrs. Jane Pitman, of Cincinnati, who is to be cremated in Dr. Le Moyne’s cremating furnace at Washington, Penn., to-morrow, will be the first woman who has ever been cremated in this country, if not the first in modern times. The only cremation of note that has ever taken place in this country, was that of Joseph Henry Louis, Baron de Palm, of New-York, whose body was burned in the same retort, on the 6th of December, 1876. This furnace is the only one if its kind in the United States. It was built in the Fall of 1876 by Dr. F. Julius Le Moyne, a wealthy and eccentric citizen of Washington, Penn. Dr. Le Moyne’s father was a French physician, who settled in the little town of Washington in the early days of Western Pennsylvania, soon acquired a large practice among the mountaineers who then inhabited that part of the country, and died leaving a large fortune. The son, the present Dr. Le Moyne, has for years been well-known throughout the Western part of Pennsylvania. He was a rabid Abolitionist, and in 1844 was prominently named on the Liberal ticket as a candidate for the Vice-Presidency, Gerritt Smith heading the ticket; but Dr. Le Moyne declined to run. A number of years ago he became interested in the subject of cremation, and, after giving the question long consideration, decided that when he died his body should be burned. He proposed to the owners of the Washington Cemetery to build a cremation furnace on their grounds; but as they declined the offer, he built one on his own land, on a high hill about a mile and a half from the village, known as Gallows Hill, it having formerly been the place of execution for Washington County.

The building is a small brick structure, divided into two rooms, one for the reception of bodies, containing a cabinet for holding the ashes of cremated bodies, and the other containing the furnace proper, a huge gas retort substantially built over a long, deep furnace. The door of the retort does not swing on hinges, but is held in place by strong iron screws, and when a body is put in it is ‘luted’ with cement, to make the chamber perfectly air-tight. At the time of the cremation of Baron de Palm the furnace fire was started at 2 o’clock on the morning of the 5th, and was kept in full blast till 8:30 o’clock on the morning of the 6th, when the body was put in. The retort is made of fire-brick, and by noon of the first day it was at white heat. Baron de Palm’s body was laid in an iron frame shaped like a cradle, carefully wrapped in a winding sheet soaked in alum water, to prevent it from burning rapidly. When it came time to put it in the retort, there was a discussion between Dr. Le Moyne and Col. Olcott as to which end should go in first. Col. Olcott thought the feet should go first, but Dr. Le Moyne insisted that head first was the proper way, and head first it went. As the body was shoved into the furnace, there was a little smoke and a slight smell of burning flesh, but after this no odor was perceptible. The door was immediately fastened on, and the cremation began. 

"He is said to believe that the application of water to the body is injurious to the healt."

“He is said to believe that the application of water to the body is injurious to the health.”

A small hole through the door of the retort afforded a chance to watch the progress of the experiment. Five minutes after the body was put in the furnace was dark inside. In seven minutes a thick white smoke could be seen. In 15 minutes the retort was lighted up, and the body could be seen distinctly. By 9:45 the head had separated from the body and rolled to one side; the flesh had all disappeared, and all the bones but skull were red-hot. At 11 o’clock, after two and a half hours of burning, the skeleton was almost entire, and white hot in every part. It was a skeleton of fire. Soon afterward it began to show signs of crumbling, and by 12:30 the cremation was pronounced complete. Some of the larger bones still retained their shape, but they needed only a breath of air to reduce them to ashes. …

The first body cremated in the furnace was that of a sheep, which, Dr. Le Moyne burned for a trial. It was even reduced to grayish ashes, and now ornaments one of the counters in Dr. Le Monye’s office. done up in a glass jar. Dr. Le Moyne has another theory, almost as singular as that of cremation. He is said to believe that the application of water to the body is injurious to the health, and to carry out his theory he recommends an occasional scraping with the back of a table-knife instead of the usual ablutions.”

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A Note From 1922 About Insect Head Transplants

August 19, 2013 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the December 1, 1922 New York Times:

“Paris–Walter Finker, the Viennese biologist, has succeeded in transplanting the heads of insects. Before the Academy of Vienna yesterday he gave an account of his operation and the results, about which the Matin‘s scientific editor says ‘if true it means a real revolution in the science of physiology and biology.’

The Matin adds:

‘This discovery is so astonishing that before discussing it we must make all possible reserves.

‘Finkler took a series of insects–butterflies and caterpillars–and with fine scissors cut their heads off. He then immediately grafted these heads onto which [another] head had originally belonged. After a few weeks the insects operated on began to recover, but to the intense surprise of the professor the newly formed insects began in every case to assume the characteristics of the heads which had been grafted on to them.

‘Bodies lost their original color and took the color of the insect whose head they were wearing. A female insect on to which a male head had been grafted became a male. 

‘Not only did the professor succeed in changing the heads of insects and larvae of the same species, but he grafted the heads of one species on to another, an operation hitherto considered quite impossible.”

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Old Print Article: “German ‘Prophet’ Lands In Jail,” New York Times (1921)

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

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“Then he began his career as an itinerant long-haired prophet.”

Louis Hauesser was a wealthy German who saw his fortune sink during World War I, before reinventing himself as a “messiah” with a bevy of young followers, many of them attractive females. In that sense, he presaged Krishna Venta, Charles Manson and Mel Lyman, among others. He was in constant conflict with authority figures, and spent a fair amount of time as a defendant. A court appearance for a trifling matter in the early ’20s was the basis of an article in the December 23, 1921 New York Times. The story:

“Berlin–The Moabit Police Court witnessed a strange scene when an ‘Apostle of Charity,’ one Louis Hauesser, self-styled ‘Prophet of the Latter-Day Christ, World Benefactor, Initiator of the New Era and Proclaimer of the New Healing,’ was called to the bar on a charge of having failed to pay $6.29 to a Berlin paper for an advertisement, the insertion of which is said to have been obtained under false pretenses. Prophet Hauesser, six feet of splendid manhood, had bare legs, sandals, a hair shirt, prophet whiskers and the longest inflowing locks seen in court in many a moon. He was accompanied by a similarly garbed and locked flock of faithful, more than a score of freakish men and women.

For months the German Messiahs have been peripatetically and profitably prophesying all over Germany, making many converts, particularly among women. The South German police, taking cognizance of the prophet’s increasing bare-footed and hair-shirted female following, put him into the psychiatric ward of Tuebingen University for observation, whence he was released owing to lack of a charge, but the professor’s expert findings are of remarkable human interest.

Until the outbreak of the war the hairy prophet was a well-groomed, fashionably dressed spender and husband of a remarkably beautiful woman living in luxury. He owned a champagne factory and also derived a large income from betting bureaus in Switzerland. But he blew in all his own and his wife’s money and went broke early in the war.

Then he began his career as an itinerant long-haired prophet. ‘His conspicuous virility exercised influenced a strong influence over a large number, even intellectual persons, particularly women,’ according to the Tuebingen professor.

In the police court Hauesser stubbornly refused to sit on the accused bench but graciously gave the Judge permission to go ahead and sentence him, however he pleased. He got the usual installment of three days in jail for contempt of court.”

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A Brief Note From 1891 About A Novel Surgery

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

From the January 21, 1891 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Decatur, Ill.–A surgeon of this city has just completed a novel surgical operation. He removed part of four ribs of a cat and inserted them in the nose of a young lady, forming a perfect bridge for the nose. The bones of the nose had decayed and were removed. This is said to be the first operation of the kind known in the annals of surgery.”

Old Print Article: “No Immortality Of The Soul, Says Thomas A. Edison,” New York Times (1910)

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

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“The brain, like the phonographic cylinder, is a mere record.”

Thomas Edison didn’t believe humans were magical, individual souls created by God but simply a swarm of biological machines. The death of philosopher William James in 1910 occasioned much breathless discussion in intellectual circles about immortality and heaven, but Edison wasn’t having any of it. From an article by Edward Marshall in the October 2, 1910 New York Times:

“No one has studied the minutiae of science with greater care than Edison. I determined, therefore, to find out what were his conclusions. And the result, as I have said, was amazing, fascinating. 

Searching the inner structure of all things for the fundamental. Edison told me he had come to the conclusion that there were is no ‘supernatural,’ or ‘supernormal,’ as the psychic researchers put it–that all there is, that all there has been, all there ever will be, soon or late, be explained among the material lines.

He denied the individuality of the human being, declaring that each human being is an aggregate, as a city is an aggregate. No just judge would, in these modern days of clearing vision, punish or reward an entire city full; therefore future reward and punishment for human beings seems to him unreasonable. Immortality of the human soul seems as unreasonable. He does not, indeed, admit existence of a soul.

A merciful and loving creator he considers not to be believed in. Nature, the supreme power, he recognizes and respects, but does not worship. Nature is not merciful and loving, but wholly merciless, indifferent. He hints, but does not say, that he believes discoveries of vast import will be made by man among the hidden mysteries of life, but thinks the present wave of ‘psychic study’ is conducted on wrong lines–lines which are so utterly at fault that it is most unlikely they ever will produce important information.

‘I cannot believe in the immortality of the soul,’ he said to me, as, with his eyes closed tightly while concentrated in deep thought, he sat the other day in the great, dim library which forms his private quarters in the tremendous works known as his ‘laboratory’ at Orange, N.J.

‘Heaven? Shall I, if I am good and earn reward, go to heaven when I die? No–no. I am not I–I am not an individual–I am an aggregate of cells, as for instance, New York City is an aggregate of individuals. Will New York City go to heaven?’

The perfecter of the telegraph, inventor of the megaphone, the phonograph, the aerophone, the incandescent lamp and lighting system, and more than 700 other things, raised his massive head and looked at me with eyes which did not see me because the mind behind them was busy searching the vast mysteries of our existence. 

edisonbulb‘I do not think that we are individuals at all,’ he went on slowly. ‘The illustration I have used is good. We are not individuals any more than a great city is an individual.

‘If you cut your finger and it bleeds, you lose cells. They are the individuals. You don’t know them–you don’t know your cells any more than New York City knows its five millions of inhabitants. You don’t know who they are.

‘No, all this talk of an existence for us, as individuals, beyond the grave is wrong. It is born of our tenacity of life–our desire to go on living–our dread of coming to an end as individuals. I do not dread it though. Personally I cannot see any use of a future life.

‘But the soul!’ I protested. The soul–‘

‘Soul? Soul? What do you mean by soul? The brain?’

‘Well, for the sake of argument, call it the brain, or what is in the brain. Is there not something immortal of or in the human brain–the human mind?’

‘Absolutely no,’ he said with emphasis. ‘There is no more reason to believe that any human brain will be immortal than there is to think that one of my phonographic cylinders will be immortal. My phonographic cylinders are mere records of sounds which have been impressed upon them.

Under given conditions, some of which we do not at all understand, any more than we understand some of the conditions of the brain, the phonographic cylinders give off these sounds again. For the time being we have perfect speech, or music, practically as perfect as is given off by the tongue when the necessary forces are set in motion by the brain.

‘Yet no one thinks of claiming immortality for the cylinders or the phonograph. Then why claim it for the brain mechanism or the power that drives it? Because we don’t know what this power is, shall we call it immortal? As well call electricity immortal because we do not know what it is.

‘The brain, like the phonographic cylinder, is a mere record, not of sounds alone, but of other things which have been impressed upon it by the mysterious power which actuates it. Perhaps it would be better if we called it a recording office, where records are made and stored. But no matter what you call it, it is a mere machine, and even the most enthusiastic soul theorist will concede that machines are not immortal.'”

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A Brief Note From 1876 About A Meat Shower

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

From the March 10, 1876 New York Times:

Louisville, March 9--The Bath County (Ky.) News of this date says: ‘On last Friday a shower of meat fell near the house of Allen Crouch, who lives some two or three miles from the Olympian Springs in the southern portion of the county, covering a strip of ground about one hundred yards in length and fifty wide. Mrs. Crouch was out in the yard at the time, engaged in making soap, when meat which looked like beef began to fall around her. The sky was perfectly clear at the time, and she said it fell like large snow flakes, the pieces as a general thing not being much larger. One piece fell near her which was three or four inches square. Mr. Harrison Gill, whose veracity is unquestionable, and from whom we obtained the above facts, hearing of the occurrence visited the locality the next day, and says he saw particles of meat sticking to the fences and scattered over the ground. The meat when it first fell appeared to be perfectly fresh.

The correspondent of the Louisville Commercial, writing from Mount Sterling, corroborates the above, and says the pieces of flesh were of various sizes and shapes, some of them being two inches square. Two gentlemen, who tasted the meat, express the opinion that it was either mutton or venison.•

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