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From a 1902 edition of the Honolulu Commercial Advertiser:
“The base ball fever has struck the leper settlement and on the last visit the superintendent organized two teams and partially equipped them. The settlement ‘league’ has been formed and the two teams will swat the sphere during seven games, which have been proposed, and the winning team will capture the prize of $20, which is already subscribed.”
"Ed Powell and Jim Leper were hung in the jail yard yesterday afternoon." (Image by Robert Runyon.)
Scenes from a double execution in Texas from the September 30, 1891 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Gatesville, Tex.–Ed Powell and Jim Leper were hung in the jail yard yesterday afternoon at 2 o’clock. When the sheriff read the governor’s message to let the law take its course, Powell was silent, but Leper said, ‘Let her go.’
Mrs. Powell, young Powell’s mother, who left no stone unturned to secure a change in the sentence, hearing of the message became enraged and told the boys to die like men and pay no attention to religion; if there was a God, he was unjust.
Leper never lost his disposition to joke. He broke into a laugh when taking his seat on the platform. Both men spoke, protesting their innocence, saying they were not afraid to die, stopping at intervals to smoke.
Rev. John Bateman, a minister of Waco, said: ‘Let us pray,’ and the sheriff, prisoners and all on the plaform knelt in prayer. On rising to their feet, Powell said: ‘One thing I forgot. I feel my sins are forgiven, and I will go to heaven. I wish all of you wealth, health and prosperity, and after death may you go to heaven.’
Both men died with scarcely a struggle. Powell and Leper were hanged for the murder of John T. Mathiason, December, 1880, for the purpose of robbery. Powell’s mother is wealthy.”
Tags: Ed Powell, Jim Leper, John T. Mathiason, Mrs. Powell, Rev. John Bateman
From the November 6, 1898 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Tattooed dogs are now the fashion in London. A coat of arms or a monogram is marked on the throat or breast of the animal. The process is made almost painless by the use of cocaine.”
"A search was made, but the neck could not be found." (Image by Thomas Eakins.)
Nineteenth-century autopsies were far from perfect, as evidenced by an article in the December 24, 1899 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:
“It was discovered at the Manhattan Morgue yesterday that the neck of the headless man, found at the foot of Rutgers Street Tuesday last, is missing. It had been cut off Thursday when Dr. Philip O’Hanlon of the Coroner’s office performed an autopsy on the body. At that time Dr. Ferguson, the eminent pathologist was present, as was Dr. Schultz, former Coroner, and a number of medical students. Dr. O’Hanlon made a careful examination of the neck and, he said, found indentations on the cervical vertebra which were undoubtedly made by a knife. There were two or three on each side and, he said, he thought they had been made by a man who knew how to handle a surgeon’s knife.
"Dr. O'Hanlon then accused Embalmer Arthur Rooney of 336 East Twenty-fifth Street, who was standing by, of having taken the neck."
Dr. O’Hanlon called at the Morgue yesterday afternoon and asked to be shown the neck which had been removed from the body. A man went into the autopsy room, where the headless body and neck had been left, but he could not find it. A search was made, but the neck could not be found. Policeman Morell, who is in charge of the Morgue, said that Dr. O’Hanlon was the last in the room. Dr. O’Hanlon then accused Embalmer Arthur Rooney of 336 East Twenty-fifth Street, who was standing by, of having taken the neck. Rooney indignantly denied that he had done so and and he accused Dr. O’Hanlon of being the last in the room when the autopsy was made. It was thought that it had got mixed with some refuse and been thrown out. There was no suspicion at any time that the man had been murdered, but the loss of the portion is considered curious.”
Tags: Dr. Ferguson, Dr. Philip O'Hanlon, Dr. Schultz, Embalmer Arthur Rooney, Policeman Morell
From the August 23, 1896 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Emil Befils, a young Arab attached to the Egyptian encampment at Bergen Beach was badly bitten by a bear belonging to the show yesterday afternoon. He took the beast to the board walk to make it dance. The bear was in an ugly humor and refused to perform. When Belfis poked the bear in the ribs with a heavy stick the animal, with a savage growl, went for the Arab’s leg and bit a piece out of it. The injured man was removed to Kings County hospital.”
Tags: Emil Befils
"It was the face of a handsome brunette just verging into womanhood."
The history of electrolysis has its origins in the 19th century, as evidenced by an article that ran in the September 20, 1885 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:
“It was the face of a handsome brunette just verging into womanhood. On her upper lip and slightly shading its scarlet hue, grew a dark, silken mustache that on a dude would have been cherished and cultivated as the choicest treasure on earth. Her head rested in a metal plate connected by a wire with a galvanic battery on the table. The doctor took up from the table at his elbow something that looked like an ebony pen staff. This also was connected with the battery. In the end was a very fine gold plated needle. The doctor looked cautiously over the young lady’s dainty little mustache, and at length, singling out a hair, inserted the point of the needle down by the hair bulb and, pressing a little spring in the handle, turned on the current from the battery.
"The doctor looked cautiously over the young lady's dainty little mustache."
When the electric current ran down the point of the little needle the young lady winced and clenched her hands, while the tears came to her eyes. This lasted only for a moment, for as soon as a little froth appeared around the needle it was removed and the hair dropped out. After forcing out about a dozen of the hairs on each side of the lip the doctor stopped. The young lady removed her head from the metal plate, wiped her face with a scented pocket handkerchief and tripped gayly to the mirror. She took a long glance of intense satisfaction and gleefully remarked that they would soon all be gone. Then she put on her hat and left, after having made an appointment for another sitting.
‘So you remove mustaches from young ladies who are unfortunate enough to have such hirsute adornments?’ remarked the reporter. ‘Will you tell me how it is done?’
‘The operation is not very new,’ was the reply. ‘It has been known and practiced for several years, especially in the East. The electric current decomposes the salt in the skin into acid, which goes to the metal plate and alkali, which accumulates around the needle and destroys the hair bulb so that the hair can never reappear. This method is also very useful in removing the ugly bristles that grow in moles, for the hairs are then large in size and few in number. It is only necessary to spend a few seconds on each hair, and but a few minutes on a dozen, after which a rest of several days is taken to allow the inflammation to disappear before undertaking any more.'”
From the July 10, 1902 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Newport, R.I.–Friends of Harry Lehr deny that he had entertained a monkey at dinner and declare that the story was a fabrication from beginning to end. He and they say that no monkey dressed in evening clothes or as nature has made him ever has sat among his guests.
Mrs. Lehr especially is indignant at the newspapers for publishing such a story and her friends say that they would not be surprised if she should determine to take legal action. It is known that the Lehrs feel keenly the edtorial comments made upon the incident.”
Tags: Harry Lehr, Mrs. Lehr
"It is simply delicious."
If we are to believe what journalism tells us, people in Albany during the 19th century would go to slaughterhouses to drink the blood of freshly killed animals for its salubrious effects. From the September 18, 1881 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“A reporter of the Albany Evening Journal who has visited the abattoirs in that city, writes as follows of the persons who gather there to drink blood:
Several people, as soon as the throat was cut with sleeves uprolled and grasping a glass, hurried over to the hanging carcass and holding the goblets in turn under the ruby stream, filled their glasses and then drank of the steaming liquid. One, a middle aged man, seemed old in the business, for he threw the contents of the glass off at one draught. Another threw some salt in his glass before drinking, while another could hardly make up his mind whether or not to drink it. At last he shut his eyes and then after three or four efforts succeeded in downing about half a glassful. The reporter approached one of the butchers after he had finished dressing the carcass on which he was at work, and asked, ‘Do the same persons come every day?’ ‘No, they come two or three times a week on the average,’ was the reply. ‘Do any women ever come?’ ‘Yes, there used to be one young girl, but the last I saw of her she seemed to be getting fleshy and has stopped coming altogether.’
"It is richer than the richest of cream."
One of the invalids was then approached and asked, ‘How do you like blood drinking?’ ‘Well, I’ll tell you. At first when the doctor told me I would have to drink warm bullock’s blood or die, I told him that I preferred the latter, but I reconsidered my thought and came up to the slaughterhouse. I thought at first I could not touch it, and the sight of killing sickened me. But I soon overcame that feeling, and when I raised the first glass to my lips I spilt the contents over me. Next time I shut my eyes and drank it down. It tasted like rich milk, and if I kept my eyes shut, I would have not the known the difference.’ Another one of the drinkers was asked how it tasted. ‘How does it taste?’ said he. ‘It is richer than the richest of cream. It is simply delicious and a drink not to be compared with any potion extant. It is simply the elixir of life. You can feel its strength as it spreads through your veins. If it hadn’t been for its strengthening qualities I would have been dead three years ago.'”
The recent Secret Service fiasco in Colombia made me think about John Frederick Parker, one of the original Washington D.C. police officers, who was fired in 1868 for literally sleeping on the job. (He had earlier been acquitted of charges of dereliction of duty and visiting prostitutes.) It was in 1865, however, when Parker had the costliest lapse of his stumblefuck career. From an article about his death in the July 20, 1890 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“The one man in the world who could have prevented the assassination of President Lincoln is dead. John Fredrick Parker, born in Winchester, Va., came to Washington some time before the firing upon Fort Sumter and soon found employment upon the metropolitan police force. When in 1862 it was decided to strengthen the regular force of doorkeepers and watchmen at the White House with a squad of policemen, Parker was one of those selected. It thus happened that when President Lincoln and party entered the old Ford Theater on the night of Good Friday, 1865, they were accompanied by Parker as guard. He took the position at the door to the private box from which President Lincoln watched the performance, where he was expected to remain and prevent the entrance of every one except the members of the party. As the play proceeded Parker from his post could hear just enough of what was said on the stage to arouse his curiosity, and it was not long before he left the door and edged his way toward the auditorium. He finally took a seat in the orchestra, or ‘pit’ as it was then called, where he had scarcely settled himself when the whole audience was surprised by the report of a pistol shot. The assassin, Booth, had stealthily approached the door of the president’s private box, where, finding no one to challenge him, he entered unannounced and fired the fatal shot. There is no question in the minds of those who are familiar with the details that had Parker remained at his post Booth could never had taken President Lincoln unawares.”
"He says that he will be a scorcher."
From the August 7, 1896 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“The Fat Men’s Bicycle Club, organized by Charles Schwalbach at his academy in the Hanson Place Armory, promises to afford considerable amusement. The latest to signify their intention of joining are Uncle Bill Schenck of Flatlands and John Trot of Bergen Street. Mr. Trot weighs 300 pounds, and he says that he will be a scorcher. Uncle Bill Schenck, who weighs 350 pounds, is one of the wealthiest residents of Flatlands, where he owns a large farm. His farming days are over, so he has plenty of time to devote to the wheel. He wants to be a trick rider.”
From an 1891 edition of the Detroit Free Press:
“A singular freak of nature has manifested itself at Saratoga. Mrs. Francis originally had very black eyes and a beautiful head of very black hair. She is about 70 years old now, in good health and a rich widow. When she was about 50 her hair began to turn white, and in a few years the whole of it was as white as snow, and so remained until about a year ago, when it began to turn black again, and has now, without the use of any artifical means and purely as a freak of nature, almost wholly returned to its original color, and is as long and silky as when she was a young woman.”
Tags: Mrs. Francis
The one thing that doesn’t taste like chicken, apparently, is human. From an insane article in the October 24, 1885 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Washington, D.C.–In the Diocesan Conference of Colored Methodist Episcopal Preachers, which is being held here, Professor A.E. Soloder, a distinguished and highly educated cannibal, upon being introduced, said:
‘I am a native of the Fiji Islands, gentlemen, and I have eaten human flesh many a time. I was born a cannibal and I was accustomed to eat missionaries. In my early days I lived principally on roasted missionaries and boiled rice; but I have been a missionary myself these thirty-five years.’
‘What does human flesh taste like?’ inquired the bishop.
‘Pretty much like a mule,’ explained the distinguished stranger. ‘You can hardly tell the difference,’ said he, ‘between young monkey and squirrel, and boa constrictor is very much like missionary.'”
Tags: A.E. Soloder
From the October 26, 1893 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Robert Ritter of Hempstead, who caused the arrest of his wife on a charge of assault the day after she horsewhipped him in the street, has withdrawn the charge and the couple has wept, kissed and made up. The reconciliation was effected by a conference between counsel representing them in the assault case. Ritter and his wife have again established themselves in the Centre Street house, and it is stated that Mr. Clemments, Mrs. Ritter’s father, has agreed to keep away from them. To his interference the whole trouble is attributed.”
Tags: Mr. Clemments, Mrs. Ritter, Robert Ritter
The 1901 assassination of President William McKinley in Buffalo, New York, had a bizarre and tragic echo in Muncie, Indiana, soon thereafter. A short article from the September 20, 1901 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Muncie, Ind.–Omer Peolee, aged 10, was fatally shot at Winchester last evening while posing as President McKinley at Buffalo for Emil Miller of the same age, who was the pretended anarchist in the case.
The lads were playmates and undertook to enact the Buffalo tragedy. Miller secured his brother’s rifle for the work. The ball passed almost through the child’s stomach and he will die. The parents are distracted.”
•••••••••
McKinley inauguration, 1901:
Tags: Emil Miller, Omer Peolee, William McKinley
This classic photograph of legendary American frontier lawman Wyatt Earp in his dotage, shows a gunslinger at rest six years before his death, but nearly three decades earlier he was anythng but calm, having gotten himself into quite a fix in the Bay Area. Earp was brought in to referee the Bob Fitzsimmons-Tom Sharkey heavyweight prizefight in San Francisco on December 2, 1896, to be the strong arm to make sure that order ruled both inside the ring and out. But he caused a near-riot.
Earp walked into the ring with a Colt .45 strapped to him and that was the least crazy thing that occurred. The Wild West legend disqualified Fitzsimmons in the 8th round on a phantom foul. Plenty of people felt the call was crooked. The ring was nearly torn down and lawsuits were filed. Before long, Earp was jeered out of town. An excerpt from “Earp Has No Fears,” which ran in the December 4, 1896 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“San Francisco, Cal.–Wyatt Earp, the most talked about man of the hour, takes a philosophical view of the criticisms that are being heaped upon him for his decision Wednesday night, and says he will wait for the time to set him right with the public.
‘If I had any fears that I erred in my decision they would have disappeared when I saw Sharkey to-day,’ said he last night. ‘Sharkey did not strike a foul blow to my mind. At the break he struck Fitzsimmons as soon as his arm was free, but that is following Queensbury rules. It is true that it was agreed that there was to be no fighting at the break, but my instructions from the club were not to be technical, but to give the audience a good fight for their money.’
When Wyatt Earp appeared in the ring to act as referee, he wore a large sized pistol. Last night Earp was arrested on a charge of carrying concealed weapons. He was released on bail.
Police Commissioner Gunst is satisfied that the fight was jobbed. So disgusted is he with the general result that he has announced that there will be no more prize fighting in San Francisco if his influence can prevent it.”
••••••••••
Shockingly, Earp was hired to manage security for Fitzsimmons’ next match three months later in Carson City, Nevada, versus “Gentleman” Jim Corbett:
Tags: Bob Fitzsimmons, Police Commissioner Gunst, Tom Sharkey, Wyatt Earp
"Around the pupils of the eyes are the twenty-six letters of the alphabet."
Total bullshit delivered with conviction in the May 24, 1892 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“Fort Worth, Tex.–A freak of nature has come to light in the county jail. His name is Jesse Lee, aged 18 years. Turn the boy’s face so that a string of light may shine into his eyes and a phenomenon is seen. Around the pupils of the eyes, in the iris, are the twenty-six letters of the alphabet, arranged symmetrically. There are letters in each eye, those up to M being in the left eye and the remaining ones in the right. Lee says his father and four brothers are similarly affected.”
Tags: Jesse Lee
"An able-bodied boa constrictor does not smell like peaches."
Cornering the snake market isn’t as easy as it looks. But one bold visionary sought to do just that, according to an article in the May 28, 1900 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, which was reprinted from the Philadelphia Bulletin. An excerpt:
“Jacobus Hope of 29 North Ninth Street is the president, vice president, secretary and treasurer of the snake trust. Mr. Hope has cornered the market. Snakes labeled ‘Jacobus Hope, Philadelphia, Pa.,’ are coming this way from all quarters of the globe by rail, by steamer, on horseback and on foot. Like Joe Leiter of Chicago, who cornered the wheat market. Mr. Hope means to have the snakes actually in his possession. The snake hunters of India have been snaking day and night to fill the orders of Jacobus Hope, Philadelphia.
‘Send every python you can lay your hand on,’ were the cabled instructions of Mr. Hope, and as a result India’s supply of pythons and anacondas is well nigh exhausted.
India, it is reported, had a cold spell, which gave the snake crop a setback from which it will take a year to recover. Several hundred yards of snakes are expected from India any day now. All snakes sell by the yard. The regular price of a python up to ten feet is $2.50. Beyond that length the price grows abruptly steeper. A twenty-foot python is worth about $300.
"All snakes sell by the yard."
Boa constrictors from South America are headed this way. They come in boxes that look like giants’ coffins. The baggage man will be in doubt as to the nature of his baggage, as an able-bodied boa constrictor does not smell like peaches.
Thousands of dollars’ worth of the boa constrictors will soon be in the city. Texas is rushing east hog snakes, whip snakes and thunder snakes. A few barrels of blue racers, chicken snakes, bull snakes and milk snakes are coming from New Mexico, while Arizona will be able to spare several crates of ribbon snakes, black snakes and adders, not to mention a Gila monster or so.
In answer to Mr. Hope’s cry for snakes and scorpions, Philadelphia promises to be the greatest snake center of the world, herself having a supply of snakes, big and little, that has never been equaled. As soon as the weather moderates, the busy little Jerseyite, with his stout canvas bag, will go snaking. Pine snakes are the Jerseyite’s specialities. These snakes sell at retail at so much a foot. They grow to a length of five feet.
"Philadelphia promises to be the greatest snake center of the world."
‘Never,’ said Mr. Hope, ‘has there been such a demand for snakes. I have orders from Maine to California, and never, it seems to me, have they been so scarce. The zoological gardens and museums are wanting new snakes. The small tent shows, of which there are more than 250 in the United States, are getting ready to start out. Each of these shows carries from ten to twenty snakes, and the proprietors all want their orders filled immediately. I am rushing the snakes on as fast as possible, but,’ concluded Mr. Hope pathetically, ‘I can’t make snakes.’
Any man who has snakes can now dispose of them at famine prices.”
Tags: Jacobus Hope
From the July 27, 1884 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“A suit for absolute divorce has been commenced by Xavier Grammer, a middle aged German painter living in Bartlett Street, against his wife Augusta, who is now somewhere on the Rocky Mountain slopes engaged in cattle ranching with a lot of cowboys. At least that is the account of herself which Mrs. Grammer wrote her husband some time ago. The couple were married in 1884, the wife being about fifteen years younger than her husband. Less than a year after her marriage she ran away with one Joseph Pfaender, leaving her child behind. She was abandoned in Detroit by Pfaender, and from that place she wrote her husband a jolly letter, telling him to take good care of the baby. Several letters passed and finally Mr. Grammer received a letter from Walla Walla, in which she told him about crossing the Plains with a party of emigrants, hunting buffaloes, breaking her leg and falling into the hands of some Indians who treated her kindly. She wound up joining the cowboy camp and says she will never return to civilization.”
George Ripley had the best of intentions.
In 1841, the Transcendentalist social reformer and journalist founded the short-lived Massachusetts collective, Brook Farm. Established along with other progressives of his day, including Nathaniel Hawthorne, the communal space was to be a haven for workers who longed for industry, not toil. The profits would be shared fairly. But there were no profits, just debts. Brook Farm didn’t experience a moral collapse, but a financial one. The kinetic never was able to match the potential. Hawthorne got a a novel out of the experiment (The Blithedale Romance), but what did Ripley gain from this bitter failure apart from heartbreak? He said of the experience at its end in 1846: “I can now understand how a man would feel if he could attend his own funeral.”
But here’s the thing: Maybe Brook Farm wasn’t the unmitigated disaster it seemed at the time. Massachusetts today is the leader among American states in both education and health care. Ripley can’t claim responsibility for those developments, but perhaps he and other idealists help lay a foundation for the state’s magnanimity. Utopias can distort reality, yes, but they give us a goal in the distance.
This classic photograph of Ripley, taken by Mathew Brady, is dated somewhere from 1849 to 1860. A brief article about the original promise of Brook Farm from the February 1, 1899 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“‘The Brook Farm Experiment’ was the subject of a lecture given before the Long Island Historical Society last night. The lecturer was Mrs. Julia Ward Howe. The hall of the society, on Pierrepont and Clinton Streets, was so crowded that many stood in the aisles during the whole discourse.
“A tract of arable land was purchased, Mr. Ripley pledging his library for a part of the necessary payment.”
‘The story of what actually took place at Brook Farm,’ Mrs. Howe said, ‘is soon told. A tract of arable land was purchased, Mr. Ripley pledging his library for a part of the necessary payment. A dwelling house already on the premises was altered and enlarged, and other buildings of cheap construction were added from time to time, as the growth of the association made it necessary. Farming must have begun in 1841, as in 1842 Orestes Bronson writes of the community existing and flourishing. The work of the great family was carefully apportioned, Mr. Ripley taking upon himself some of the heaviest and least pleasant part of it, such as the daily cleaning of the stables. Justice was the ideal of the infant association. Within its domain, all labor was equally esteemed. Brain work should enjoy no preference over hand work, and the hand which guided the pen should be ready when so ordered to guide the plow. At times all the members of the community gathered to wash the dishes, and the male members did their full share. The first object in the administration was naturally the support of life. Every effort was made to improve the land, which made but an ungrateful return for such labor. A practical farmer directed agricultural operations, much of what was produced was consumed on the premises, but milk and vegetables, excellent in their kind, were sent to the market. Mr. Ripley once mentioned to me a Boston conservative who used to say that he didn’t like Ripley’s ideas but he did like his peas.'”
Tags: George Ripley, Julia Ward Howe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Orestes Bronson
From the July 30, 1897 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“The Rev. Frederick Bruce Russell made a raid on the Mutoscope machines at Coney Island this morning and closed several of them. These are a species of moving picture contrivances and show various scenes. They are operated by the dropping of a nickel in a slot. Those closed by Mr. Russell to-day were at Feltman’s Pavilion, Koster’s Concert Hall, the Sea Beach Palace and the Old Iron Pier. The particular pictures which fell under the reformer’s eye were entitled ‘What the Girls Did With Willie’s Hat’ and ‘Fun in a Boarding School.'”
"He rushed into the room valiantly and found himself face to face with a huge brown bear. "
Somehow no one was mauled to death during a deeply dangerous and deeply funny practical joke that was reported on in the August 23, 1894 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. The story in full:
“A wild, unearthly yell broke the tower of the old iron pier at about 1 o’clock this morning. It proceeded from the handsome apartments occupied by Mr. A.S. Judge, the superintendent of the old iron pier, and the brother-in-law of Mr. Pierre Lorillard. So piercing was the shriek, that it even had the potence to arouse Sarcarichi, Mr. Judge’s Japanese servant, from his slumbers. Hurriedly throwing on a loose Japanese gown Sarcarichi flew to his master’s room, fully convinced that murder was being done. He rushed into the room valiantly and found himself face to face with a huge brown bear. Sarcarichi is no coward, but he glanced around very cautiously before he bolted again for the door. In this brief glimpse he saw his employer curled up in bed with clothes pulled up over his head. This was enough for Sarcarichi. With a yell which would not have been discreditable to a Comanche Indian he fled, his coattails flying backward. Bruin looked at the flying figure, and, thinking it was another chance for some fun, pursued the Japanese from the room. No sooner was it cleared than Judge leaped to his feet, locked and double locked his door.
The bear’s keeper caught the animal at the bottom of the stairs. The entire trouble occurred because Mr. Judge boasted that even if the London Zoo broke loose it wouldn’t frighten him. Harry Sturdevent, to whom the remark was made, gave a dollar to the keeper of the bear. Whether or not there is any connection between these facts is matter for speculation.”
Tags: A.S. Judge, Harry Sturdevent, Mr. Pierre Lorillard, Sarcarichi
"For a wager he would eat a whole sheep or whole pig."
A story about dietary anomalies, which appeared in the January 30, 1887 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle and was originally published in Good Housekeeping. An excerpt:
“Elizabeth Charlotte, the Duchess of Orleans, writing under the date of December 5, 1718, says: ‘The late king, monsieur the Dauphin, and the Duc de Berri were enormous eaters. I have often seen the King eat four plates of different kinds of soup, a whole pheasant, a partridge, a dish of salad, two thick slices of ham, mutton flavored with garlic, a plateful of pastry and finish his repast with fruit and hard boiled eggs.’ There was a good old German from Wittemberg, where my Lord Hamlet attended the university, who had a fine faculty for storing away provender. His case is well attested. For a wager he would eat a whole sheep or whole pig or put out of sight a bushel of cherries, stones and all. He lived until he was 80 years of age, a great portion of the time supporting himself by exhibiting the peculiarity of his appetite, which, to say the least, must have been a very eccentric one. Thus, he would chew glass, earthenware and flint into small fragments. He had an especial preference for caterpillars, mice and birds, and when these were not procurable he would content himself with mineral substances. Once he put down his maw and gull a pen, the ink and the sand pounce and he would have gobbled the inkstand, too, had he not been restrained.
Dr. Copland, in speaking of two children who had wonderful appetites, the youngest 7 seven years old being the worst, said: ‘The quantity of food devoured by her was astonishing. Everything that could be laid hold of, even in its raw state, was seized upon most greedily. Among other articles, an uncooked rabbit, half a pound of candies and some butter, were taken at one time. The mother stated that this little girl, who was apparently in good health otherwise, took more food if she could possibly obtain it, than the rest of her family, consisting of six besides herself.’
Instances of depraved appetite are numerous, and men have been known to swallow fire, swords, spiders, flies, toads, serpents, cotton, hair, paper, wood, cinders, sand, earth, clay, chalk, flint, musket balls and gold watches. One man could swallow billiard balls.”
From the August 15, 1899 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:
“‘Superstitions About Babies’–In Spain the infant’s face is swept with a pine tree bough to bring good luck. In Ireland a belt made of women’s hair is placed about the child to keep harm away. Garlic, salt, bread and steak are put into the cradle of a new-born babe in Holland. Romanian mothers tie red ribbons around the ankles of their children to preserve them from harm.”
"The dog baby barks when it wants food."
A misbegotten Manhattan baby show was held, appropriately, at Midget Hall, in 1877. An amazing eyewitness account of the horror was published in the November 26 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:
“At ten o’clock this morning the great National Baby Show at Midget Hall, corner of Fourteenth Street and Fifth Avenue, New York, was opened. There are four hundred babies entered, and about half that number were in their places this morning. The show occupies two floors of the building, and around the sides of the rooms, on raised platforms, are the babies, with their mothers or nurses. At least one hundred and eighty of the two hundred babies spent the greater portion of the morning crying. The women vainly endeavored to pacify their youngsters, but it seemed as if there was a tacit understanding between the infants that they were not allowed themselves to be bulldozed. Nearly every child had a bottle of milk, and after they exhausted their power of suction and filled their infantile stomachs, they yelled. Dolls and other toys were thrown away on the babies, and many ladies endeavored to stop up the children’s throats by stuffing them with gum drops.
There will be distributed $1000 in prizes ranging from $10 to $150, the highest prize being given to the handsomest mother and child. The mothers, with the exception of two, are not handsome. There are many babies, children of rich New Yorkers, who are entered by their nurses. The majority of the mothers are German, and among the Germans there are a fair sprinkling of Hebrews. There are also Russian babies, Icelandic babies, Polish babies, Norwegian babies, English babies, Irish babies and one Chinese infant named Wee Boo. Many of the infants are positively hideous looking, yet their fond mothers think their offsprings the handsomest in the show. There is one baby that resembles a monkey and another with long ears and jaw, that is called the dog baby. The dog baby barks when it wants food.
Among the novelties are a set of quartets which are promised, but have not yet arrived, and a baby who attempted suicide. The suicidal youngster tried to drown himself in a bath tub. There is another baby that claims attention because it is said that baby was born ten minutes after its mother died. A two year old baby that swallowed a fork, laughed and crowed while it endeavored to bite off the end of its mother’s nose. An elfish looking baby, seventeen months old, is said to weigh less than six pounds, and its mother was proud of it. It was advertised that a baby thirteen months old, without hair or nails, would be exhibited, but the hairless youngster did not make its appearance today.”
"He pleaded that the authorities refrain from shearing his locks."
A Rasputin-like figure from the 19th century, Francis Schlatter, a cobbler who turned to faith healing, was rumored to have retired and/or died in 1896 or so. But the Brooklyn Daily Eagle subsequently ran an assortment of stories about him–or others purporting to be him. At some point, it seems he became more idea than flesh, “appearing” in cities all over America. The following are a few pieces about those strange years.
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“Schlatter on a Wheel” (July 15, 1896): “Guthrie, Okla.–A man claiming to be Schlatter, the healer, from Denver, rode into town yesterday on a bicycle and is creating a sensation. He was dressed in a trailing gown of black and wore a curling beard and long, flowing hair. As soon as his identity became known a great crowd gathered about the man and since then hundreds of people have constantly dogged his footsteps. Last night he addressed an immense throng, laying on hands to heal people and blessing hundreds of handkerchiefs.”
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“Schlatter the Healer” (August 19, 1897): “Pittsburgh, Pa.–Late last night it was positively announced that Mrs. Margaret Ferris, widow of the builder of the Chicago wheel, had been married in Pittsburgh to Francis Schlatter, healer, of Canton. The ceremony was performed by Rev. Mr. Ward, pastor of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church. Mr. and Mrs. Schlatter are now at a downtown hotel.”
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"He would recite an inarticulate prayer."
“Schlatter the Healer” (January 10, 1899): “Lynbrook, L.I.–A tramp, who resembles Schlatter, the healer, and who is evidently deranged, applied for lodging at the Rudd Farm, East Rockaway, and was permitted to sleep in the coachman’s room. He spent a week in fasting and prayer and was only seen to leave his room once in all that time. He refuses all food and it is supposed that he is preparing by fasting and prayer for forty days to resume the work of preaching and healing. He seems younger than Schlatter and his features strikingly resemble those of Christ as depicted by modern artists. Although evidently a cultured and scholarly man he refuses to talk and is apparently anxious to conceal his identity.”
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“Small Audience Attracted” (January 30, 1899): “Brooklyn–Before an audience of about two hundred spectators, the Rev. Charles McLean, M.D., who claims to be the original Schlatter, the divine healer in a resurrected form, gave an exhibition of his healing powers. The meeting was held at the Antheneum, Atlantic Avenue and Clinton Street. Among the two hundred were those afflicted with every ill flesh is heir to. Some hobbled up as early as 7 o’clock. although it was after 8 o’clock before the alleged healer began to talk. Others were led, and about the whole crowd was an air of tragic expectation. About thirty came up on the front seats to be treated when the call was made for subjects. The healer rejected all but ten, after a hurried questioning as to the nature of their ills. He explained that he did work where he felt called and those subjects not treated must report at future meetings. One by one as rapidly as he could apply his method these ten were led up to the stage and were seated in a chair with back to the audience. For a minute the hands of the healer would be pressed over their foreheads. At the same time he would recite an inarticulate prayer. Then he would interview his subject as to the result of the treatment and announce the decision.”
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"About the whole crowd was an air of tragic expectation."
“Divine Healer” (July 21, 1901): “Washington–Francis Schlatter, the so-called ‘divine healer,’ was tried in the police court to-day as a vagrant and fined $10 or thirty days in the workhouse.
As he returned to the cells he pleaded that the workhouse authorities refrain from shearing his locks. Schlatter stated to the court that he had come here to get his wife, who had deserted him to approve the sale of some English property. Becoming discouraged, he had commenced to drink. A policeman testified that he found Schlatter surrounded by a boisterous crowd and that he admitted having been on a ‘drunk’ since July 3.”
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“Schlatter Sent to the Island” (August 25, 1901): “Manhattan–Francis Schlatter, who calls himself ‘the divine healer,’ was sentenced to three months in the workhouse on the Island yesterday by Magistrate Zeller, in the Harlem police court. Mrs. Elizabeth Muller, the janitress of the house at 44 Bradhurst Avenue, where Schlatter’s wife had been living since she quarreled with and left him, was the complaintant against the prisoner. The healer’s wife left the house a few days ago, and Mrs. Muller charged that he constantly annoyed all the tenants in the house, persisting in visiting the rooms to see his wife. On each of these visits, the complaintant said, Schlatter was in an intoxicated condition, bordering on delerium tremens.
When the sentence of three months was pronounced Schlatter said that he did not care, as he had powerful friends who would have him set free. Among these he named President McKinley.”•
Tags: Francis Schlatter, Magistrate Zeller, Mrs. Elizabeth Muller, Mrs. Margaret Ferris, President McKinley, Rev. Charles McLean, Rev. Mr. Ward