Old Print Articles

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A Brief Note From 1895 About An Embalmer

July 15, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the March 18, 1895 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Muncie Ind.–An undertaker at Red Key claims that he has secured a secret from an old hermit which promises to revolutionize the art of embalming. He learned it of an ancient man who lives in the mountains of West Virginia, in a lonely cabin, and residents of the neighborhood believed him insane and that his house was haunted. A visit to the hermit’s house was paid by the undertaker and a friend. The floors of the two lower rooms of the cabin were carpeted with the finest rugs made from the skins of animals and preserved by the hermit. The rugs consisted of the skins of coons, cats, snakes, frogs, minks, etc. The skins were perfectly preserved and were as natural as if just taken from the animal. Upstairs were three bodies, which the hermit said he had obtained years ago. They looked as if death had come but yesterday. The hermit also had bodies of different animals all looking as natural as life. The first experiment with the fluid will be made in a medical college in Baltimore, Md.”

Old Print Article: “Threatened John L. Sullivan’s Life,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1889)

July 13, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Sports, Urban Studies | Permalink

“You’re an old woman, anybody could lick you.”

John L. Sullivan, gloved boxing’s first heavyweight champion, made a fortune and ended up a broken-down charity case like so many great pugilists. He had a wild ride of living large, drinking hard, acting on stage, losing money, being sued, etc. And sometimes he wasn’t the source of the problems that plagued him. From the October 27 1889 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Boston, Mass.–‘I will kill John L. Sullivan,’ shouted Tommie Shea this afternoon. He was armed with a big revolver and had been drinking heavily. Instead of killing Sullivan, Shea lies at the City Hospital to-night with his throat cut from ear to ear by one of Sullivan’s companions and will probably die. Recently Liney Tracey, a Brooklyn boxer, who was a second for Sullivan in a fight with Kilrain, and who was booked for the champion’s latest proposed sparring tour, was talking with Shea. The latter had just been released form State Prison, having served three years for highway robbery.

Sullivan saw them, and, calling Tracy one side, said: ‘Keep away from that man, he’s a crook.’

Tracy very foolishly told Shea what Sullivan had said and Shea swore he would kill the champion as soon as he had opportunity.

Sullivan-Kilrain, 1889.

About 2 o’clock this afternoon Shea entered Sugarman’s pawn shop and bought a thirty-eight calibre bull dog revolver for $2.50.

Meeting friends later, he told them he had a revolver and what he intended to do. A policeman soon after induced Shea to give up the revolver. Shea left the officer, telling his friends he intended to buy another gun. Sullivan sat in a high chair in Hogarty’s barber shop at 4:30 o’clock this afternoon having his shoes polished when Shea entered and sat down in a chair for a shine. Then a wrangle of words began between the champion and the man in the chair. Remarks similar to this were made by Sullivan to Shea: ‘You’re an old woman, anybody could lick you.’

In the barber shop was Tommy Kelly, an ex-lightweight pugilist, who won his fame when he fought Siddons Mouse on an Island down the harbor some time ago. Kelly took a hand and a bloody hand it proved to be.

Kelly had been drinking. He seized one of the Italian’s razors, and, approaching Shea, drew it across his throat, cutting a gash from ear to ear. The blood flowed a stream and there was intense excitement in the little shop. Sullivan jumped from his seat, took the razor away from Kelly and kicked him out into the street. Shea was taken, weak from loss of blood, to the hospital, and late to-night the physicians declared him almost beyond hope of recovery. Kelly gave himself up to the police. So far he has made no statement as to his side of the case.”

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A Note From 1897 About A Rat Trap Accident

July 12, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the June 22, 1897 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“William Young, a consulting engineer living at Brooklyn and Newkirk Avenues, had an experience with a patent rat trap at 7 o’clock last night that may cost him his eyesight. For some time past the Youngs have been troubled with rats and bought a trap that was highly recommended by a salesman. Last evening Mr. Young was explaining to his wife the workings of the trap, which he held close to his face. Suddenly there was a snap and a shout from Mr. Young. The spring had sprung and caught him on the eyelid. It required the assistance of Mrs. Young to release the trap, and it was then found that his eyelid had been torn. Surgeon Lewis of St. John’s Hospital spent an hour in endeavoring to save the unfortunate man’s sight.”

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A Note From 1879 About A Hunchback Daughter

July 10, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the June 16, 1879 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Mary Martin, the little hunchback who committed an assault upon her father, a week ago, with an ax, sat in Justice Semler’s court room this morning, in company with her mother. Both mother and daughter seemed to be deeply grieved, for they hung their heads and remained immovable to all that was going on about them. When the judge called the case, Mrs. Martin informed his Honor that her husband had withdrawn the complaint against his daughter. Mr. Martin was not in court. His wife said he was able to attend to his business and that the wound was a slight one. Justice Semler dismissed the case.”

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Old Print Article: “Has Sold His Own Skeleton,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1890)

July 9, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“In school I soon learned to unjoint my head.”

A performer of sorts blessed with extreme double-jointedness was the subject of a profile in the May 11, 1890 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“A freak in Barnum’s side show, who is in no sense of the word a fake, is Charles E. Hilliard. He dislocates his joints and replaces them at will to the great astonishment of the many visitors. The most eminent physicians in this and other countries have tried to solve the man’s peculiar gift, but all have failed and it remains as great a puzzle, to himself as well as others, as when he first discovered he could loosen himself, so to speak, without doing any harm or causing any pain. Mr. Hilliard is of medium height, lithe and graceful, and is possessed of his share of manly beauty. An Eagle reporter interviewed this stumbling block to science yesterday and drew from him a life history which is full on incident and novelty.

‘I was born at Martinsburg, W. Va.,’ he began, ‘on August 16, 1857. I grew up to a schooling age the same as any other child. One day–I remember it well–I climbed into an orchard from which little boys were supposed to be excluded, and catching sight of a dog, quickly jumped the fence into the roadway, turning my ankle when I struck the ground. It didn’t hurt any, so I kicked against the fence and snap it back into place again. I went home and scared my parents almost into hysterics by repeating my snap act, and they sent post haste for a doctor. He twisted me and hammered me, and found a lot of new places that could be broken without pain, finally giving up the puzzle with the consoling theory that there was a screw loose somewhere. In school I soon learned to unjoint my head and could write on the blackboard and look squarely at the school at the same time. I always cracked my ankles instead of snapping my fingers to attract the teacher’s attention, and if I found I was being beaten in a foot race I always managed to have a broken leg or twisted foot for ten, or fifteen, minutes as an excuse for having lost. When a bucket of coal was needed my wrist was always dislocated; during harvest time a dislocated knee came in very handy. I couldn’t carry water with a dislocated shoulder nor weed a garden with three broken fingers on each hand, so I managed to have things pretty easy during my childhood. As I grew older I found there were few joints in my body that I could not dislocate and it gradually got to worrying me. I consulted one doctor after another and one word, enigma, gives the result of all their investigations.

“He is married, well educated and a very pleasing conversationalist.”

‘I now began to get used to being an exhibition through having so many doctors experimenting with me and resolved to accept one of the many offers that kept pouring in upon me to visit medical colleges, throughout this country and England, and after exhibiting for a time before surgeons and students at home, I took an engagement in the Royal College, in London, where they kept me for seven years and yet could tell no more when I left than when I entered. College work pays me the best, I get $150 a week at a college, but I have worked for $75 in a museum just because I wanted a change so much.

‘By the way I suppose you read in the newspapers a few years ago how I sold my bones. I had received various offers from half a dozen cranks scattered over the country from $1,000 to $4,000 for my body after death, but I paid no attention to them. Finally, one day while I was exhibiting at the Bellevue Hospital, Philadelphia, Dr. Doremus came up to me with a pleasant smile and the equally pleasant greeting of, ‘Well, Hilliard, how much for your bones to-day?’ ‘They’re $6,000 to-day,’ said I, laughing. ‘It’s a go,’ he answered, and the next day he sent me a check for that amount, and I signed a contract giving him my skeleton after death, but reserving the right to use it myself until death occurs.’

Mr. Hilliard has never known what it was to be ill, and is in perfect physical condition. He is married, well educated and a very pleasing conversationalist.”

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A Note From 1891 About A Gloomy Entertainer

July 8, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the September 28, 1891 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Milwaukee, Wis.—Barney Baldwin, the dime museum freak, who is known as ‘the living man with the broken neck,’ attempted suicide here last evening by taking poison. He was removed to the Emergency Hospital and is in a fair way to recover.”

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Old Print Article: “Mummies Made To Order,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1888)

July 5, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

A brief piece about the ghoulish mummy trade in Egypt that ran in the June 17, 1888 Brooklyn Daily Eagle and was originally published in the Portland Oregonian:

“A gentleman who has just returned from an extended foreign tour was asked yesterday why he had not brought home from Egypt, among other curios, a mummy. He said there was a great deal of fraud in the mummy business. Persons purchasing mummies, of course, like to get them as well preserved and natural looking as possible, and as those found are generally in a more or less dilapidated condition, vendors have engaged in the business of manufacturing bogus mummies. They bargain with tramps, beggars and such people for their defunct carcasses, paying them a sum sufficient to make their remaining days short and sweet. These fellows are preserved and pickled and then smoked till they are good imitations of the genuine mummy. Whole rows of these articles can be seen in smokehouses at once. When sufficiently dry, they are wrapped in mummy cloth and sold, to Americans chiefly, bringing in a high price.”

A Note From 1900 About Lazy Organ Grinders

July 3, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the August 1, 1900 Brooklyn Daily Eagle, a note about my people, the Italians:

“Five Italians and a monkey were prisoners in the Myrtle Avenue court this morning before Magistrate Worth, charged with lounging. The officer who arrested the men said that he found them with their hand organs and the monkey sitting in the gutter at Lexington and Grand Avenues, drinking beer.”

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Old Print Article: “Airship Rounds Tower; Dispute Over Prize,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1901)

July 2, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“The enormous crowd which had gathered inside and outside the grounds gave the aeronaut a tremendous ovation.”

Alberto Santos-Dumont, a Brazilian aviation pioneer whose chosen vocation was influenced by early reading of Jules Verne, answered a challenge in 1901 to travel around the Eiffel Tower in his airship within 30 minutes. From a report that year in the October 10th Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Paris–Santos-Dumont, who rounded the Eiffel Tower to-day in his airship, started for the first time at 2:29, but on leaving the park his guide rope caught in a tree and he was obliged to descend. He started against 2:42 P.M., rose 250 yards and then pointed for the Eiffel Tower, the balloon going in a straight line.

It was seen, through field glasses, to arrive at the tower and round it. The time, up to that point, with the wind in the balloon’s favor, was eight minutes and forty-five seconds. It returned against the wind and made slower headway, but still kept in true direction for St. Cloud, which it reached in the total time of twenty-nine minutes, fifteen seconds. But instead of descending immediately, Santos-Dumont made a broad sweep over the Aero Club grounds, with the result that another minute and twenty-five seconds were consumed before the workmen seized the guide rope. Thus, technically, Santos-Dumont exceeded the time limit by forty seconds.

The enormous crowd which had gathered inside and outside the grounds gave the aeronaut a tremendous ovation. As his basket came within speaking distance, Santos-Dumont leaned over the side and asked:

‘Have I won the prize?’

“A number of ladies who were present threw flowers over the aeronaut.”

Hundreds of spectators shouted: ‘Yes! Yes!’ But the Count de Dion, a member of the committee approached and threw a damper on the enthusiasm by saying:

‘My friend, you have lost the prize by forty seconds.’

The crowd, however, refused to accept this view and a warm discussion ensued, the majority of the spectators taking the ground that Santos-Dumont was entitled to the prize.

The aeronaut, after protesting against the decision of the committee, finally shrugged his shoulders and remarked:

‘I do not care personally for the 100,000 francs. I intended to give it to the poor.’

A number of ladies who were present threw flowers over the aeronaut, others offered him bouquets, and one admirer, to the amusement of the onlookers, even presented him with a little white rabbit.”

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A Note From 1897 About A Prince’s Dandyism

July 1, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the May 2, 1897 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“The greatest dandy in the world is said to be Prince Albert of Thurn, Germany. This fastidious young man attires himself in a new suit of clothes every day, enough yearly to keep twenty experienced workmen going and to run up a bill of $15,000. Each suit of wearing apparel is highly perfumed with the odor of roses at $25 an ounce. He wears no less than $1,000 neckties during a year, being on average of three every day. A laundry employing twelve people is kept specially for washing his soiled linen, which he never wears more than twice, and his cast-off boots number 200 pair s a year.”

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A Note From 1888 About A Missing Salesman

June 29, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the October 2, 1888 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Norfolk, Va.–A boy, while passing through the Hollies, two miles from Virginia Beach, Saturday night, discovered the skeleton of a man. From the scattered clothing, papers and other articles found around it, it was identified as the remains of Alonzo Lewis, the missing salesman of W. & B. Douglass, pump manufacturers, of New York City. The buzzards had eaten every particle of flesh off, leaving only the bleached bones. The presumption is that he was not murdered, but committed suicide.”

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Old Print Article: “Home For Calamity Jane,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1901)

June 27, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“Calamity” Jane died in Terry, South Dakota, on August 1, 1903.

One of the most storied of all American frontier legends was Martha Jane Canary, better known as “Calamity” Jane. A sharpshooter, she was a contemporary of “Wild Bill” Hickok and General George Custer. But the harsh elements can get the best of the heartiest soul, and Jane found herself on the decline as she neared her fiftieth birthday. A story about her published two years before her death in the July 12, 1901 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Anaconda, Mont.–Mrs. Josephine Winfield Brake of Buffalo, N.Y., authoress and Washington correspondent for a New York newspaper, has been in Montana for the past week searching for ‘Calamity’ Jane, the noted plainswoman. Yesterday Mrs. Brake discovered ‘Calamity’ Jane  in the hut of a negress at Horr, near Livingston. The poor woman was suffering with fever and was broken in spirit. The scene that followed the offer of Mrs. Brake to take ‘Calamity’ to her own home in Buffalo, where she could spend the remainder of her days in comfort, was pathetic in the extreme.

‘Calamity’ Jane has been on the frontier since she was a young girl. She was in the Black Hills at the time of the killing of ‘Wild Bill’ (William Hickok), and it was said that it was she who captured his murderer. She rendered valuable services to Custer, Reno, Egan and other Indian fighters. Of late years she has drifted about the state from place to place, making a livelihood as best she could. During the summer she sold pictures of herself to park tourists. During the past couple of years she has been ill a considerable portion of the time. The newspapers have largely printed severe articles concerning her, some of which attracted the attention of General Egan and others, who interested themselves in the woman’s plight. The result was that Mrs. Brake took steps to find Jane and the two women have now left Livingston for Buffalo.

‘Calamity’ Jane is about 50 years of age. Her maiden name was Canary and she is said to be from New York. She has been married more than once, her last husband being one Burke, a Livingston drayman.”

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A Brief Note From 1892 About A Sleeping Man

June 27, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the January 19, 1892 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Wilksbarre, Pa.–At the Retreat Poor House, near this city, is a Polander named John Mica, who has been sleeping for thirteen months and shows no signs of waking up. He was taken there from Wilkesbarre City Hospital about fourteen months ago. The sleeper opens his eyes occasionally to take a little nourishment, but immediately drops his head under the covers and falls into a comatose condition. The case has not been explained.”

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Old Print Article: “Buckskin Joe–A Border Sketch,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1871)

June 25, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“Sheriff Burns returned to this city, bringing with him Buckskin’s left foot, on which one of the toes was known to be malformed.”

A story of frontier justice was published in the July 28, 1871 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“The Los Angeles Star gives this subjoined account of the killing of noted desperado and murderer, Buckskin Joe:

‘Yesterday morning Sheriff Burns returned to this city, bringing with him Buckskin’s left foot, on which one of the toes was known to be malformed, and twisted above the others in such a manner as to enable the foot to be readily identified; his rifle, an old-fashioned muzzle-loader, with which he was wont to do deadly execution on bear, deer, and sometimes men; his buckskin cap and purse, and an old almanac, found on his body, and used by him as a memorandum book.

During the first part of the month the Sheriff received a letter from the San Rafael mines, Lower California, arriving at San Rafael on the 14th.  Upon receipt of the warrants, the Governor, Don Manuel C. Roja, dispatched Justo Chavis, his chief executive officer, with a party of five men to make the arrest. After eight days of searching, during which no trace of any party, except Buckskin could be found, the camp of the gentleman was discovered by Indians at a spring situated about a mile from the tops of the Sierra Madre range, on the side of the mountain nearest Colorado desert. When first seen by Mexican officers, Buckskin, alone, was leaving his camp. Making a cut-off, the party soon overtook him on the mountain ridge, and surrounded him, Justo Chavis in front, who summoned him to surrender. At the same time Quirrino Endelacio, who was in the rear, rode his horse against him. Buckskin dropped his own rifle, and seizing Quirrino’s Spencer, attempted to wrest it from him. In the struggle, the gun went off accidentally while Buckskin had hold of the muzzle, the ball passing through his hand, entering his left side below the heart, and breaking his backbone. He fell immediately, and died about two hours after making a lengthy confessions of the murder with which he was charged.”

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A Brief Note From 1890 About Horse Bologna

June 24, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the January 10, 1890 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Bossi’s bologna factory, at Newtown, is doing a rushing business. Now steam sausage cutters and appliances for drying the beef have been added to the establishment. This week twelve horses have been converted into dried beef and bologna.”

Old Print Article: “A Queer Story About Margaret Fuller,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1885)

June 21, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“He found the remains of Margaret Fuller lying on the beach in her nightgown.”

Margaret Fuller (1810-1850) was the Susan Sontag of her day–America’s original Susan Sontag, actually. The first female book critic of great acclaim, Fuller was not exactly modest about her brilliance. “I find no intellect comparable to my own,” she offered to all who would listen. She was a prominent member of Brook Farm, George Ripley’s failed experiment in Utopian living, and reportedly inspired the “Zenobia” character in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Blithedale Romance, who commits suicide by drowning. Fuller herself died by water, perishing in a shipwreck that she seemingly could have escaped but chose not to. Her body was never recovered. Some 35 years after her death, an odd (and likely apocryphal) story appeared about her in the Boston Traveller, which was reprinted in the September 6, 1885 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. The article in full:

“As every topic comes up at the elegant lunch and dinner tables of Newport, so I was not astonished to hear a lady say that she ‘knew of the grave of Margaret Fuller.’ Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, who was present, and who had written a life of Margaret Fuller, was astonished, as it is reputed in all the lives written of that extraordinarily resurrected person, the Marchesi Ossili, that her body never reached land. An old fisherman at Fire Island, however, told a lady who was in the habit of going there several years ago, that he found the remains of Margaret Fuller lying on the beach in her nightgown, which was marked by her name, and that he wrote to the brothers Fuller and Horace Greeley about it, without receiving any answer; that he went up to New York to see Mr. Greeley, but he seemed to take no notice of the fact; and that he then buried Margaret Fuller at Coney Island; and could identify the spot.”

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A Brief Note From 1876 About A Detached Finger

June 20, 2012 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.”

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Old Print Article: “Spare The Woodpeckers,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1886)

June 19, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“The fashion of wearing birds in the hat is, it seems, to continue in spite of its cruelty and its shortsightedness.”

A 1880s/90s fashion trend whereby women wore bird feathers and sometimes entire stuffed birds in their hats as ornaments meant trouble for woodpeckers and such. Song birds were legally protected but milliners coveted them regardless, so it was off with their heads. Until their heads could be stuffed and sewn back on and placed on a hat, that is. Numerous editorial writers and preservationists railed against the idiotic fashion until it finally abated. From the September 23, 1886 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“The youthful gunners of Astoria and Bushwick and other outlying regions north of Brooklyn have suddenly discovered the presence in the woods and gardens of numerous woodpeckers, and have committed great havoc among them, although these birds are among those which the state considers as song birds and protects by special statute. But the fashion of wearing birds in the hat is, it seems, to continue in spite of its cruelty and its shortsightedness. Many small birds, and particularly those of the woodpecker family, are insectivorous, and under the greatest services to humanity by unremitting war upon our insect pests. The shade trees of Kings County have suffered so terribly this Summer from the saw fly, the borer and the din beetle, that many horticulturists have been almost driven to despair. And now when some of these wretched creatures are hibernating, particularly the din beetle that infests our elm trees, and fall an easy prey to insectivorous birds the sound sense of the law becomes plainly manifest, and its observation in the most stringent manner is of paramount importance. Yet it is not observed, and young lads have been seen in the streets of Astoria with scores of these beautiful and yellow shafted flicker and the downy woodpecker, all of which have been butchered to adorn the hats of ladies. And it is to be feared that as long as milliners find a sale for such hats. so long will they give big prices to the young fellows in Long Island.”

A Brief Note From 1898 About A Double Funeral

June 16, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the October 1, 1898 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Chicago, Ill.–While leaning over a casket yesterday, taking a last look at the remains of a girl friend, Minnie Budolski fell forward over the casket and died instantly. Miss Budolski and Minnie Graef, her dear friend, had been constant companions since babyhood. A double funeral will now take place and the two girls, inseparable in life, will be buried side by side.”

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A Brief Note From 1895 About A Cruel Dentist

June 15, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the July 3, 1895 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Virgil F. Parker, a dentist, who lives on the tenth floor at the Arlington flats, was arraigned before Justice Walsh this morning charged with cruelty to animals. The complaint was made by George Roth, a butcher, of 74 Montague Street, through the Society for the Prevention of the Cruelty to Animals. Mr. Roth swears that Parker, who is something of a marksman, wantonly shot and killed three cats which were kept by the butcher for the purpose of killing rats in his store.”

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Old Print Article: “Identifier Of Booth Dead–Washington Barber Shaved The Assassin Of President Lincoln,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1900)

June 14, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

“Booth gave Lawler a pass to attend Ford’s Theater that night.”

A supporting player in one of the great American tragedies of the 19th century, barber Thomas C. Lawler became an accidental part of history when he crossed paths with a man who acted notoriously. Lawler’s death in 1900 was reported in the New York Times and the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. From the Eagle:

“Lynn, Mass.–Thomas C. Lawler, who figured in the identification of J. Wilkes Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln, died here to-day aged 58 years.

A short time before Booth committed the crime, Lawler, who was proprietor of the National Hotel barber shop, shaved the actor and cut his hair. Booth gave Lawler a pass to attend Ford’s Theater that night, but Lawler was unable to leave the shop, so he did not witness the assassination. Lawler was taken on board the monitor Miantonomoh after Booth had been shot to identify the remains.”

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A Brief Note From 1896 About A Hypnotized Man

June 13, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the October 5, 1896 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Atlanta, Ga.–During a performance at a local theater the subject of hypnotism imagined he was a monkey. He grabbed a hat off a man in the audience and bit a piece out of it.”

Old Print Article: “Died In A Chair In A Saloon,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1902)

June 11, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"When Swansen brought the salt, a moment later, the man was dead."

A self-medicating man with an odd taste for tinctures did himself no good in a saloon according to this article in the October 27, 1902 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“A poorly dressed man, apparently about 35 years of age, entered Harry Kennedy’s saloon, at 184 Park Row, Manhattan, shortly, before 6 o’clock this morning and asked the bartender, William Swansen, to give him a pinch of salt.

‘What do you want with salt?’ asked the bartender, surprised by the request.

‘I have a hemorrhage,’ replied the man, at the same time spitting a quantity of blood on the floor. Swansen went to one end of the bar to get some salt and the stranger staggered into the back room and sank into a chair. When Swansen brought the salt, a moment later, the man was dead.

The dead man was five feet nine inches in height, had brown hair, gray eyes and a smooth face. He weighed about 150 pounds. He wore a blue shirt, striped coat and trousers, brown stockings and laced shoes. The body will be removed to the Morgue.”

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A Brief Note From 1894 About A Strange Woman With A Fat, Red Face

June 10, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

From the October 20, 1894 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“A strange woman with a fat red face was seen to leave the residence of Patrick Haggerty at 261 Warren Street yesterday afternoon. Soon afterward Mr. Haggerty reported that a gold watch and a diamond pin, worth in all $75, had been stolen by a sneak thief from his house.”

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Old Print Articles: Tales Of Rain-Makers, Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1894-95)

June 8, 2012 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

Drought has always made people desperate, so rain-making was a profitable-if-inexact science in the 1800s. Those contracted to bring rain to an area fired cannons at clouds (the “concussion theory”) or used contraptions of all manner to try to make atmospheric conditions amenable to precipitation. And often they did nothing and hoped for a lucky shower so that they could collect their money. Three tales of rain-makers follow.

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“The Rain Maker Failed” (August 18, 1894): “Mexico, Mo.–George Matthews, self-styled rain maker from Kansas, has failed to fill his contract here. He agreed, for $400, within six days to give Audrain County a good shower of rain. His time was up last night and he failed to deliver any rain. He packed his machinery and returned to his home in Wichita. He claims that he succeeded in producing ice clouds daily, but that the moisture clouds could not be gathered on account of the unfavorable condition of the atmosphere.”

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“To the Credit of the Rain Maker” (July 28, 1894): “Lincoln, Neb.–Welcome rain fell here to-day. It will be of great benefit to corn, which was in great need of rain. Dr. Sunsher, a ‘rain-maker,’ will doubtless claim the credit for the showers. He signed a contract a few days ago to produce rain within four days. He was to have a price varying from $150 to $500 for an inch of rain. The chances are he will claim the $500 as probably an inch of rain has fallen.”

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“Rainmaker Melbourne Is Frank” (June 28, 1895): “Cleveland, O.–Frank Melbourne, the erstwhile Western rain king whose services were in urgent demand in the West two or three years ago, is located in this city. In speaking of his experiences as a rain maker, Melbourne admitted that the whole thing was humbug, and that he never possessed any more power in that respect than any other man. He says the American people like to be humbugged, and the greater the fake the easier it is to work it. Melbourne made a fortune in the business and spent it like a prince.”

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