Old Print Articles

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Old Print Article: “An Eloping Couple Caught,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1886)

November 27, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"The matter was placed in the Pinkerton's hands."

This article from the December 30, 1886  edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle tells the tale of a married Illinois preacher who absconded with his younger secretary. An excerpt:

“Chicago–Miss Fannie Matthews, who eloped with the Rev. C. B. Seals, of East Lynn, Ill., has been placed in her mother’s care by the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Seals was 50 years old, had a wife and family and was highly esteemed as a pastor. His victim was but 20. Seals was always made welcome in the Matthews household and spared no pains to praise Fannie. Her parents considered this in the light of a compliment, so highly did they regard the minister. At last the pastor gained the permission of Mr. and Mrs. Matthews to allow Fannie to act as his amanuensis. Fannie occupied this position for some time, but at last went away from East Lynn to visit some friends. The pastor disappeared a few days later, and suspicion was aroused for the first time. The matter was placed in the Pinkerton’s hands and descriptions of the couple scattered broadcast over the country. One of these was received by an officer in Alma, Ark., who recognized the description as that of the Rev. Charles Brady, who had preached there several times. Miss Matthews was living in Alma as his daughter. A detective and Fannie’s mother immediately went to Alma, but the couple had flown. Seals, alias Brady, found out that he was being shadowed and left, and the detective found that the couple had gone to St. Louis and from there to Canada.

Superintendent Robertson notified his operatives at London, Canada, and Seals and his victim were arrested day before yesterday when they stepped from the train. The pastor was allowed to go and the girl brought back to Chicago, where she was joined by her mother, who took her back to East Lynn.”

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Old Print Article: “Death Of Eccentric Old Dr. Gruby,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1898)

November 22, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"He did not reserve all his oddities for his patients; he kept a great number for his own actions and behavior."

You know the story about the Paris-based doctor who liked to prescribe sauerkraut, was Alexandre Dumas’ personal physician and kept a vicious pet monkey? No? Well, here it is, courtesy of the December 18, 1898 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Paris Bureau–All capitals contain so great a number of eccentric people that if we knew them all, we would still more readily come to the conclusion that there are more mad people outside than inside insane asylums.

It is probable the Paris does not contain as many as London, for it is known that for oddity and originality the English have the precedence; but such specimens as Dr. Gruby show that if the number is not as large as in Paris as in London, they, at least, are quite as capable to do as eccentric things and lead as eccentric lives.

Dr. Gruby was a physician who possessed all of the necessary diplomas, but he was called a healer. This country, like all other countries, in fact, is flooded with healers. Legitimate doctors do all in their power to bring them into disfavor, but vox populi is vox dei, and the more eccentric the healer seems to be and the more extraordinary his cures appear to the patients, the more they knock at his door to be healed.

"Alexandre Dumas would have no other doctor."

There is not a French celebrity of any kind, within the last forty years, who, afflicted with any serious illness, has not gone to Dr. Gruby, and who was not dumbfounded when the healer prescribed carrots, sauerkraut or some other unheard of medicament with the grave countenance of a doctor who writes down the most complicated mixtures in an incomprehensible page of Latin words.

But faith was there. Had the healer not made the most remarkable cures? Were not such men as Alexandre Dumas and Ambroise Thomas there to testify that whatever surprising things the healer gave, they, one and all, were benefited by it?

He did not reserve all his oddities for his patients; he kept a great number for his own actions and behavior. One of them was that he never wanted to appear but in the best of health to all humanity, his servants included. He died at the age of 80, behind a locked door. He did not even admit his servants during his last two days of agony. He died in a dark room, without a streak of light, for he feared some curious eye might see him in the throes of death. At last the scared servants had the door forced open by the commissaire de police and they found but a cold corpse. The healer had drawn his last breath about twelve hours before.

"He had dogs and cats and for a long time possessed a vicious monkey, whom he called brother."

Not so long ago, Mme. Ambroise Thomas was asked to tell us some eccentricities of the doctor. ‘Alexandre Dumas would have no other doctor, and for a long while, by the orders of Dr. Gruby, Dumas would start off on a morning constitutional with four apples in his pocket. The orders were to walk from the Avenue de Villiens to the Arch of Triumph and there stop to eat an apple; then to start again and walk to the Place de la Concorde, and stop there and eat another apple. He was to return to the Arch and eat his third apple, and take the fourth before his own door and have the last bite in his mouth before he crossed the threshold.

‘And Dr. Gruby’s servants were allowed to be visible only at certain hours. He was passionately fond of animals and plants. He had dogs and cats and for a long time possessed a vicious monkey whom he called his brother, and who bit several of his friends.'”

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Old Print Article: “Coroner Gives Turkeys,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1902)

November 20, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"The turkeys weighed from twenty-two to twenty-seven pounds each."

Coroners have big hearts. They usually keep them in jars. A brief article about one coroner who had a different kind of big heart, from the December 24, 1892 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Coroner Phillip T. Williams delighted the hearts of his employees to-day in presenting to each one a turkey. The turkeys weighed from twenty-two to twenty-seven pounds each. Coroner Williams in presenting the turkeys made a neat little speech, in which he spoke of the work of his employees during the past year and wished them a merry Christmas.”

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Old Print Article: “Clearing Out The Place,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1885)

November 16, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

This brief article in the August 13, 1885 Brooklyn Daily Eagle has it all: a remarkable degree of ethnic insensitivity by the editors, a tale of brazen thievery and a bowling-alley proprietor with the most unfortunate name ever. The story in full:

“Two Italians entered the bowling alley of Dick Cummeys’, on Fourth Avenue, Bay Ridge, yesterday afternoon, during the temporary absence of that gentleman, and endeavored to ‘clean out’ the place. Mr. Cummeys returned just in time to see the two foreigners putting the last article of furniture on a wagon. When he demanded an explanation they set upon him and gave him an unmerciful beating. Then they made their escape.”

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Old Print Article: “A Pumpkin Pie For Andy,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1886)

November 14, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"Miss Gilbert entered the court room carrying a pumpkin pie."

Ella Gilbert was a good girlfriend if not a particularly bright person. An excerpt from a story about her in the November 22, 1886 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle: 

“Early Sunday morning Officer Masters saw two men and a woman lounging on Dean Street and told them to go away. One of the men did so, but the other, Andrew Brogan and the woman Ella Gilbert, of 82 Schenck Street, refused to move and were arrested. On the way to the station house, Ella, who is young and active, managed to escape. Today Brogan was sent to the Penitentiary for sixty days, and soon after he had been put back in the pen, Miss Gilbert entered the court room carrying a pumpkin pie which she told Officer Waldron was for Andy. Policeman Masters saw her and promptly placed her under arrest again. She pleaded not guilty and was committed until Wednesday.”

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Old Print Article: “The Monkey Could Not Shave,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1887)

November 11, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"His reflection in the glass at first caused him considerable uneasiness." (Image by Chris huh.)

Unfortunately, the August 7, 1887 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle featured just one article about a monkey in the back of a saloon attempting to shave. Here it is:

“Max Beyer’s hostelry, on Fulton Street, has an attraction in the shape of an intelligent monkey. Yesterday, the animal, when on a shed in the rear of a saloon, found a piece of looking glass. His reflection in the glass at first caused him considerable uneasiness until he evolved an idea. He had seen Adolph Beyer shave himself frequently, and he put in practice what he had seen. The monkey got an old knife and, with the most comical grimace commenced to scratch away at his chin until it was so sore that he desisted in disgust. Darwin never had a better supporter of his theory.”

Old Print Article: “A Talented Cow,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1892)

November 9, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"She gives beer in place of milk. Even Chicago has nothing like her."

I doubt cows can give beer, but I’m pretty sure newspaper editors at the Brooklyn Daily Eagle downed plenty of beer when putting out the July 17, 1892 issue. An excerpt from an article in that groundbreaking edition:

“There’s a cow that gives beer. She lives in St. Louis. May she prove an abundant consolation to the people of that city for their loss of the world fair.

To the casual eye this cow is like any other: the same number of legs and prongs and ribs, the same Gothic architecture, the same frolicsome gaiety, the same unconscionable time eating a meal, the same moments of rapt contemplation. But in this one essential respect she is different from any other cow that breathes: she gives beer in place of milk. Even Chicago has nothing like her.

"The farm hands become thirsty during the day with greater frequency than before."

The conversion of the beast into a brewery was accidental. The cow got among some malt and hops and ate them. During the day she was alternately frisky and meditative, and when she returned to the barn she appeared to see two doors and made a delay in the business of the evening by trying to get into the one that was not there. Once anchored in her stall, however, she submitted quietly to milking. The first drops of the fluid that should have been milk and that on the following day would have been served to customers, with a judicious and strengthening mixture of chalk and water, so startled the proprietor of the cow that he gathered the rest of her offering in a separate pail. It was amber in color, it foamed, it had a familiar odor. He tasted it; it soothed. He eagerly drank the whole six quarts. O, joy–it intoxicated!

The cow has been somewhat overworked since this discovery was made and alternated between conditions of tipsiness and fatigue, showing signs of headache in the morning. But beer is never allowed to form to excess in her system, because the farm hands become thirsty during the day with greater frequency than before. This discovery in natural chemistry may work a revolution in the brewing business.”

Old Print Article: “Men Are Growing Taller,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1890)

November 6, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"He thinks we shall eventually become a nation of giants."

Hard science was not evident anywhere in this odd January 5, 1890 Brooklyn Daily Eagle article which suggested that men were willing themselves to be taller. Or maybe this was supposed to be funny? I don’t think so. An excerpt from the article, which originally appeared in the Chicago Times:

“Mr. Edward Atkinson, of Boston, finds time while conducting an extensive business to collect information on a great variety of subjects. He has lately ascertained, by means of circulars addressed to leading tailors, the makers of ready made clothing and the manufacturers of underclothes, that the men of this country are growing taller decade by decade. He thinks we shall eventually become a nation of giants. As yet he has elaborated no theory to account for this steady increase in height. Some physiologists, however, have suggested that it is due to the large consumption of meat in this country. The state that people who, like the Chinese and Hindus, subsist almost entirely on grain and fruit, are invariably short in stature, while flesh consumers, like the North American Indians, are generally quite tall.

"The man who invests $3 in tickets for the purpose of taking his best girl to the theater finds that he can see nothing on the stage unless he happens to be very tall."

It is likely that diet may have something to do in influencing the height men may attain. But it is obvious that there are other causes that exert a much greater influence. There are a great many inducements held out in this country for men to become tall. Nearly every boy desires to gain admission to the military or naval academy, and each learns as soon as he can read that it is necessary to reach a certain standard of height in order to be eligible. Men must also stand a certain number of feet and inches in their stockings before they can attain positions on the police force in most cities. As premiums are offered for becoming tall, it is by no means wonderful that men and boys should seek to add to their figure by taking thought or taking anything that will produce the desired result.

The introduction of the three story roof bonnet has been a most important agent in enlongating the spinal column of men. The man who invests $3 in tickets for the purpose of taking his best girl to the theater finds that he can see nothing on the stage unless he happens to be very tall. As a consequence men who attend theaters and operas make use of every means that will enable them to become tall. In some fashionable churches the male worshiper of medium height has no opportunity to see the minister or the pretty soprano singer. The Tower of Babel bonnets, surrounded by fowls of the air and lilies of the field, entirely obstruct his view.

"The street car also exerts great influence in causing men to become tall."

The street car also exerts great influence in causing men to become tall. They generally give the seats to the women and are obliged to stand during the entire trip. As soon as a boy is 12 years old his endeavors to reach the strap attached to the top rail commence. He perseveres in this attempt until he succeeds in accomplishing the difficult feat. He learns to stretch his body out in the same way that an earthworm does to reach a certain place. After he has availed himself of all his powers of self elongation, certain agencies that are not voluntary are brought to work on his body. Side pressure is made to bear on it as if it is on a bar of iron that is to be drawn out into wire. It also receives numerous blows every time the car wheels pass over an obstruction, and these produce the same effect of the body that the blow of a hammer do a piece of soft iron.”

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Old Print Article: “Grandma Of 700 Jailbirds,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1902)

November 1, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"Of her descendants, 700 have been in jail, 342 were confirmed drunkards, 127 women were immoral by their own confession and 27 were convicted of murder." (Image by Charles Bell.)

You can get a bad reputation if 700 of your descendants wind up in the clink, though it may be that Temperance enthusiast Mary Annable was simply a huge buzzkill given to telling tall tales. Either way, her story of a god-awful grandmother was recorded for posterity in the May 22, 1902 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“Mrs. Mary J. Annable, president of the Kings County Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, and superintendent of rescue work of the state union, was one of the speakers at the annual convention of the New York County Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, held yesterday afternoon in Manhattan. In the course of her remarks Mrs. Annable said that she had the record of a woman who died in Brooklyn in 1827, leaving 800 descendants. ‘That woman,’ she added, ‘kept a disreputable house and was a drunkard. Of her descendants, 700 have been in jail, 342 were confirmed drunkards, 127 women were immoral by their own confession and 27 were convicted of murder.’

To an Eagle reporter who this morning sought to obtain more details regarding this woman and her many descendants, Mrs. Annable said:

‘I based my statements upon data that I received from a doctor who is interested in criminology, particularly in its relation to heredity, and has done considerable investigating with regard to the subject. I do not feel at liberty to give the name of the investigator and there is nothing new about that statement, for it has appeared in print and I have quoted the figures in other addresses. I am under the impression that while the woman died in Brooklyn she was not a native, but came from some up state section. She was 51 years old at the time of her death and I am told that within the confines of Greater New York many of her descendants are now living, some of whom are very respectable. I do not know her name, only the initials. I made that statement at yesterday’s meeting to show what rescue work as carried on by the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and other organizations means for women.'”

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Old Print Article: “Wild Times At Bellevue,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1901)

October 30, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

It seems that right around 1900, the only employees Bellevue Hospital could get to work in its Morgue were complete alcoholics. Luckily, Bellevue also had an Alcoholic Ward. An excerpt from a May 7, 1901 Brooklyn Daily Eagle article:

“There were many new faces among the helpers at Bellevue Hospital, Manhattan, this morning, owing to the suspensions last night and arrests for drunkenness. The alcoholic ward contains many of the late helpers. The new assistants come from the convalescent patients and the city lodging house. The disgraceful row last night between two stretcher bearers of the Morgue brought out the alarming degree of dissipation at Bellevue following each pay day.

It has long been a notorious fact that the attendants at the Morgue are seldom the same for any two weeks. Superintendent Rickard said that responsible men cannot be gotten for from $10 to $12.50 a month. Yesterday, he said, there was a greater degree of intoxication at the institution than ever before, although it has been bad enough at any time.

A couple of days ago a rough and tumble fight occurred between the chef, a man named Vozen, and his assistant, named Hopkins. Hopkins, while intoxicated, got Vozen down and began to pound him and had him almost knocked out when help arrived. Hopkins was suspended. Vozen was incapacitated for work.

"A couple of days ago a rough and tumble fight occurred between the chef, a man named Vozen, and his assistant, named Hopkins."

John Roff, attendant at the Morgue, came into the place Sunday with a pair of black eyes, face scarred and lacerated and so drunk he could hardly walk. He was suspended and on the announcement of his decision said he would lick the whole staff.

John Dunn, an attendant, rode into Bellevue this morning in a hansom cab. He was so badly intoxicated that he had to be carried from the cab. He wore a bouquet of lilacs and violets. He wore a silk hat, which had seen much usage. He was put in his cab and driven from the grounds and is riding about yet, so far as the hospital people know.

Another attendant came to Bellevue this morning with a strong smell of liquor on his breath and when he found the treatment that had been meted out to his associates he rushed into a ward and sprinkled checkerberry on his mustache. He was sober enough to go to work, but the odor of wintergreen is offensively palpable.

George Lewis, an attendant, who has been suspended for drunkenness before, was ‘disgustingly’ sober, as one hilarious attendant said this morning, and was put to work in Roff’s place. He said he would never touch liquor again.

Superintendent Rickard said that drunkenness among the attendants was very common, but it was more flagrant this month than ever before. The attendants are paid every month. The men and women are such people as to be unable to get work anywhere else and look forward every month to their pay for intoxication. Some can not wait for pay day and get orders and go down town and cash them. The only remedy for this, Superintendent Rickard says, is to pay more wages and get a better class of attendants.”

Old Print Article: “Pete Hart’s Pavilion,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1889)

October 28, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Sports, Urban Studies | Permalink

"There was a stool in the corner of the roped inclosure and on each stood a pair of badly damaged boxing gloves."

One of my favorite A.J. Liebling articles is “The University of Eighth Avenue,” a 1955 SI profile of old-time New York boxer Billy Ray. In the piece, Ray fondly recalls a Brooklyn barroom featuring all manner of organized violence: cockfighting, dogfighting and boxing. The tavern was across the street from Calvary Cemetery. By chance, I just happened upon an old article in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle from 1889 (a reprint of a New York Sun piece), which I think is about the same establishment. Ray had given the proprietor’s name as “Hughie Bart” and the Eagle refers to him as “Pete Hart,” but there are many similarities. The full article:

“Just across the road from the northeast corner of the old Calvary Cemetery stands a little frame structure that is called a pavilion by Pete Hart, who owns it. Mr. Hart is an old time free and easy singer, and there are few men on Long Island or anywhere else who know how to entertain non church goers better than he. Pete is a slim man, verging on the meridian of life, and has an old gold mustache. To the casual observer the pavilion is a very ordinary saloon, with no pretensions to grandeur. The first story consists of two rooms. The outer room has a little bar across one end of it and the inner room is ornamented with a lot of pictures representing calm and rural scenery; also with a few round tables, some wooden chairs and a number of young men who look as though they were given to scrapping. There is a small door in one end of this room which opens into an inclosure about thirty feet square. In the center is a rough wooden platform, fenced in with ropes. On one side are three rows of planks, the upper one being so near the low ceiling that a tall man can’t sit upon it. Behind this door is an ancient piano.

"After it was over a young fellow danced a clog and was enthusiastically applauded."

Yesterday afternoon a sign in chalk was hung about the door leading into this inclosure, which declared that admission could be had for the trifling outlay of 25 cents. A stalwart young man stood in front of the door collecting this amount from every one who entered. At 4 o’clock about one hundred and sixty men were inside and the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. There were stools in the corners of the roped inclosure and on each stood a pair of badly damaged boxing gloves, and a bottle of water. The gentlemen were all known to each other as Skinny, Freckles, etc., and after a young man had been induced to thump on the piano, various heroic efforts were put forth to induce other young men to sing. There was a stir in the doorway and two young men in tights and canvas shoes climbed through the ropes into the ring, and, after affectionately shaking hands, began to pound each other with the gloves. The utmost order prevailed during the set to. After it was over a young fellow danced a clog and was enthusiastically applauded. James McNamee of the Hornbacher Athletic Club sparred three rounds with Dan O’Hara. McNamee is a handsome young fellow and knows a lot about boxing. He has sparred frequently with Jack Dempsey and has proved himself worthy of meeting good men. He thumped O’Hara whenever and wherever he liked to the great delight of the crowd and to the astonishment of Mr. O’Hara.

Hugh Groden, who was recently whipped in a ten round go with Sailor Brown, had a hot set with Smoke Hennessey. Mr. Hennessey amused the crowd later in the day by an unexpected attack on Mr. O’Hara. It was during the last set of the day and near the close of a three round go between O’Hara and John McCormick. Hennessey sprang into the ring and with his bare knuckles tried to strike O’Hara. The latter warded off the blow and struck Hennessey so hard with the boxing gloves he wore that he sent him flying through the ropes. Among the other set tos was one between Billy Dacey and Dan McVeigh and one between Mike Murray and Billy McGibben.”

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Old Print Article: “Fun For An Orang-Outang,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1898)

October 26, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

It’s the simple pleasures in life that bring the most enjoyment, as demonstrated in this December 4, 1898 article from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, which was originally published in the Philadelphia Record. An excerpt;

“Boolan, the wonderfully human-looking orang-outang out at the Zoo, has not yet been placed upon public exhibition, but she is learning new tricks every day that will surprise and delight visitors to the gardens where they are permitted to see her. Head Keeper Manley yesterday gave her an apple in a paper bag, and, thinking she merely devour the fruit and destroy the wrapping, paid no more attention to her until he heard a loud report like that of a popgun. Where Boolan learned the trick no one knows, but she had taken the bag in one hand after eating the apple, and, holding it up to her lips, had blown into the opening until it was full of wind. Then, with as much dexterity as children who do the same thing, the little orang-outang compressed the top of the bag to keep the air in, amd smashed it upon her knee. She appeared to be so much delighted with the result that the keeper sent out and got half a dozen bags, with which she repeated the performance until the supply was exhausted.”

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Old Print Article: “Patient Takes A Walk,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1899)

October 23, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"His feet were bare and his head was swathed in bandages."

Getting kicked in the head by a horse can provoke strange behavior, as evidenced by an article in the November 9, 1899 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“Hempstead, L.I.–John Lucas, who was brought to the Nassau Hospital sometime ago from Valley Stream, where he had been injured by being kicked in the head by a horse, made his escape last night from the hospital by actually walking through the corridor to a roof in front of the hospital and then sliding down one of the posts of the veranda to the ground beneath.

Lucas was attired only in his nightgown. His feet were bare and his head was swathed in bandages, which caused him to present a most weird appearance. He walked down Fulton Street, the principal village thoroughfare, for nearly half a mile to Main Street and on his way he passed a number of women who screamed and made for the nearby houses. Several men in carriages passed him, but were afraid to arrest him. They, however, notified the Chief of Police, who with the assistance of S.P. Allen got Lucas into a carriage and took him back to the hospital. He suffered no ill effects from his walk.”

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Old Print Article: “A Woman’s Quick Revenge,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1895)

October 20, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"She immediately disarmed him of a pistol." (Image by Andrzej Barabasz.)

Well, policing was apparently somewhat different in the 1890s. A brief article from the June 21, 1895 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“A special from Amory, Miss., says: At Greenwood Springs, a summer resort fifteen miles from here, Bruce Flanigan, a proprietor of the hotel, called at the residence of Frank Dean. Finding Mrs. Dean alone, he insulted her so she claims. She immediately disarmed him of a pistol which he had and blew his brains out. She then secured her husband’s shot gun and levelling the muzzle at the dead man’s breast fired both barrels. Mrs. Dean has not been arrested and will probably not be.”

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Old Print Articles: Getting Shanghaied, Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1872-97)

October 18, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"Mooney was placed on the ship while drunk by a vessel man."

People who didn’t get waylaid during the 19th century got shanghaied, as proven by the following articles from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

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“She Shanghaied a Sailor” (December 30, 1891): “Mrs. Amanda Hermanson, who keeps a sailors’ boarding house at 256 Van Brunt Street, was held by Justice Tighe this morning to await the action of the grand jury on the charges made by Steffano Valeno. She is the woman whom Valeno had arrested a fortnight ago for shipping him to China against his will and stealing $50 and a trunk from him while he was gone. Valeno brought witnesses to support his statements. After this hearing Mrs. Hermanson was arrested for keeping a sailors’ boarding house without a license, was convicted and sentenced to pay a fine of $100.”

••••••••••

“For Being Shanghaied” (December 6, 1897): “Vancouver, B.C.–News comes from Shanghai that Lawrence Mooney, an American citizen who went to Shanghai from Victoria on the lumber bark St. Catharine, has been awarded damages against the ship by a United States consul general. Mooney was placed on the ship while drunk by a vessel man who became notorious through his connection with the San Francisco smuggling ring.”

••••••••••

"He was first drugged into unconsciousnes, how, he cannot say, or at what place, and then placed in the hold of the vessel."

“Return of a Missing Man” (April 5, 1872): “About six weeks since Robert Seymour, a tinman, having a small store in South Fifth, married and the father of two children, left his home and place of business to perform a job of work on board of a vessel said to be then lying at the foot of Rutgers Street, New York, and up to yesterday nothing had been heard from him, although every effort had been exerted to obtain a clue to his whereabouts.

Among his friends most earnest in hunting Mr. Seymour was Mr. E. Gateson, a plumber, who was more than surprised at seeing the missing man, whom he had given up for dead, walk into his store at Broadway, and salute him, as of yore, by the title of ‘Boss.’ To Mr. Gateson the appended account was substantially related by Seymour, concerning his extended absence, from which it will be seen that an old-time practice of seizing men and shipping them against their will still prevails to some extent in the metropolis of the State.

In other words, Seymour was shanghaied, to accomplish which he was first drugged into unconsciousnes, how, he cannot say, or at what place, and then placed in the hold of the vessel, which was probably ready to sail at a moment’s notice. The first he knew he found himself in a dark and confined space, in company with three other men, and on the succeeding day was with them taken on deck, and asked to sign a paper binding him for a whaling voyage. He and his three companions refused to accede to this proposition, and upon their promising not to make any stir about this matter, nor inform upon their captors, they were taken ashore on a small boat to the mouth of the Chesapeke Bay, from where they made their way to Baltimore. From thence they were passed to New York, where the party arrived yesterday morning, overjoyed at once more finding themselves at home and among friends. He further stated that it was not the vessel upon which he was at work in which he was carried off to sea, and is unable to give either its name or that of the captain, as he had no communication with any one on board, neither did he know a single one of the crew.

Mr. Seymour still bears traces of the hardship endured by him, and says he has not yet recovered from the effects of the drug partaken of by him.”

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Shipping to the Philippines, 1898:

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Old Print Articles: Getting Waylaid, Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1874-1902)

October 16, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"The three men overtook McHugh, knocked him down, kicked him, beat him, and ended by slashing him across the face with a knife."

You couldn’t walk down the street in the 19th century without getting waylaid, as evidenced by the following trio of articles from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

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“An Italian Music Teacher Almost Murdered” (August 17, 1874): “On Wednesday evening last Mr. Antonio Lopez, a teacher of the guitar, was waylaid and feloniously assaulted by Edward Hanger, who is a printer employed on the New York Herald. The affair took place in Sands Street, near Hudson Avenue, and the weapon used was a loaded cane with which the assailant approached his intended victim stealthily from behind. Jealousy seems to have been at the bottom of the matter, and there is scarcely any doubt but that Hanger intended to kill the music teacher. Lopez had a lady hanging on each arm at the time of the assault, both of them being pupils, and as his assailant approached him, turned to see who it was and thus the blow intended for his skull was received with terrible force on the left temple. It staggered him, and he fell upon the sidewalk in a faint, and a stream of blood from the wound flowed freely. His companions were greatly alarmed and screamed loudly, and a man on the opposite side who had witnessed the assault, at once raised the cry of ‘police,’ which quickly brought to the place Officer Dougherty, of the Second Precinct, who had been patrolling the block above. In the interval the printer had run off in the direction of High Street and endeavored to escape, but this he was not able to do, as the stranger who had seen his actions kept close behind him and pointed him out to the officer, who arrested him just as he was entering the house No. 143 High Street.

Lopez was conveyed to the Station House in Jay Street and Dr. Hemiston summoned, who dressed the wound, and did not, at the time, think it a dangerous one.”

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“Night Watchman McHugh Waylaid on John Street” (June 14, 1902): “James McHugh, the night watchman of the city dump at the foot of Gold Street, was beaten and robbed on John Street, near Gold, last night about 10 o’clock, while on his way to work. Three men, representative toughs, who infest that neighborhood, asked McHugh for the price of a drink. He gave them 15 cents, and in doing so thoughtlessly exhibited a small roll of $1 and $2 bills. The men grabbed for the roll, and McHugh started down John Street, running and crying, ‘Police!’ ‘Murder!’

Of course, no wide awake policeman was in two blocks of the place, and the three men overtook McHugh, knocked him down, kicked him, beat him, and ended by slashing him across the face with a knife. They took his roll of money, $8, and walked away. The police didn’t know anything about the robbery until a long while afterward.”

••••••••••

"Upon examination it was found that the man's skull was crushed."

“Waylaid and Robbed” (October 10, 1893): “Charles Goldberg, a Willets Point soldier, was waylaid and robbed on Bayside Road, a small thoroughfare leading to the fort, yesterday afternoon. He was found lying in the street in an unconscious condition and was taken to the Flushing Hospital, where upon examination it was found that the man’s skull was crushed. He died in great agony shortly after his arrival there. Goldberg was 20 years old. Coroner Corey was notified and he has ordered a rigid investigation. Goldberg’s body was found not far from where the Pole, Schneider, was found last week with his skull fractured. He subsequently died in the Flushing Hospital. The police of Flushing are scouring the county for the men’s assailants.”

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Old Print Article: “The Hatfield-McCoy Feud,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1890)

October 12, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"The murder stirred up a tremendous excitement among the McCoys and Hatfields."

One brief and bloody tale from the epic Hatfield-McCoy feud was chronicled in the November 13, 1890 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Charleston, W. Va.–Bud McCoy was waylaid by William Dyer and Ples McCoy on Peter’s Creek, Pike County, Ky., while on his way to the house of John Gostin and killed. The victim spoke pleasantly to the two men and passed them, when they turned in their saddles and shot him through the back, firing several shots into his dead body after he fell from his horse. The murder stirred up a tremendous excitement among the McCoys and Hatfields, and a posse at once started after the murderers, who fled through the Southwest corner of West Virginia into Kentucky. News was received to-day that the posse came up with the fugitives in Buchanan County, Virginia, Monday. Ples McCoy was shot and captured, but Dyer escaped after a running fight. A portion of he posse is in pursuit and he will probably be killed.”

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Hatfields vs. McCoys, Family Feud, 1979:

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Old Print Article: “Transfusion Of The Blood Of A Goat Into The Veins Of A Man,”Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1843)

October 9, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

“A syringe, previously heated, was filled with blood drawn from the jugular vein of a goat.”

Medicine wasn’t quite as advanced 160 years ago as it is today, so sometimes doctors would just inject goat blood into a sick person to see if that voodoo would work. One such example can be gleaned from the following article published in the February 1, 1843 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“A man 38 years of age, says a late member of the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal was seized with haemhptysis, which continued so long, and so violent, that the only means of saving his life appeared to be by supplying the loss of blood by transfusion. On the fifth day after the attack a cannula was introduced into the median vein of his left arm; a syringe, previously heated, was filled with blood drawn from the jugular vein of a goat and about five ounces were injected into the vein of the man. Immediately he complained of a feeling of oppression; but this soon afterwards went off. An attack of phlebitis came on the next day, but was subdued in eight days by means of cold applications alone. His strength from this day returned, and at the end of three months he was able to resume his usual occupation. It is remarked, as the interesting point of this case, that it proves that the injection of the blood of one animal into the veins of another is not necessarily fatal.”

Old Print Article: “A Man Is Turned Out Of Bed To Be Told He Is Dead,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1890)

October 6, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

The following story from the September 1, 1890 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle is about an oyster saloon owner whose reported death was greatly exaggerated. I tend to think only about 83% of this article was made up. An excerpt:

“Val Steiniger keeps an osyter saloon in the basement of the tenement 104 East Fourth Street, New York. He is fat and prosperous and fond of a joke. It was entirely in keeping with the man and his ways that he should be fast asleep in his bed this morning at an hour when the police had him down in the blotter at the Thirteenth Precinct as dead. This is a copy of the record telegraphed to police headquarters at daybreak:

‘Valentine Steiniger, of 104 East Fourth Street, jumped off a Houston Street ferryboat at 2:35 a.m. and was drowned. Body not recovered.’

About the hour this dispatch was wired there came a thumping rap on the Steinigers’ door. A policeman stood there with the message that Val Steiniger’s friends were wanted at the station. Steininger himself, after a turn or two in bed, got up and went along, thinking that someone was in trouble and wanted to help him out.

‘Well,’ he said to the sergeant, ‘what is wanted?’

‘Val Steiniger is drowned,’ said that official, briefly.

‘The dickens he is,’ gasped the oysterman. ‘He was just in his bed, sleeping.’

‘I can’t help that,’ said the sergeant. ‘He is dead. Here is the note.’ And he produced a policy slip upon which was scratched, with a pencil:

‘MY DEAR WIFE–I am sorry it has come to this.–Val Steiniger.’

‘Where was the note found?’ asked Steiniger.

The sergeant told him in the pocket of a pair of trousers found along with a pair of old shoes on a Houston Street ferryboat when it was halfway across to Brooklyn, between 2 and 3 o’clock this morning. It was as plain as the nose on a man’s face that Steiniger had left them there when he jumped overboard. The oysterman recognized in the trousers an old and patched pair he had worn Saturday night on the sloop. Joe Martin, an inveterate joker, had dared him to take them off where he stood and sell them to him for $1, and he had turned the joke on him by pulling them off and handing them over on the spot. Evidently the thought of having some fun at Steiniger’s expense had occurred to Martin, with the result of all this commotion. It was all clear to Steiniger in a moment.

‘Well, nobody is dead,’ he said, handing back the slip.

‘I just informed you,’ said the official at the desk, stiffly, ‘that Val Steiniger has drowned himself. It is here on this blotter. What more do you want?’

“But I am Val Steiniger,’ said the oysterman, ‘and I am not dead.’

‘Then,’ said the sergeant, promptly, ‘it must be your brother. Have you one?’

‘I have six,’ said Steiniger.

“Any of them married?’

‘Yes, two of them are married, but one went to Syracuse yesterday and the other is alive and well. Somebody has been a-fooling you, sergeant.’

And Mr. Steiniger went home to sleep, while the sergeant gravely entered on his returns to headquarters that he was dead.”•

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Old Print Article: “Postal Tube Service,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1902)

October 2, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

There was a pneumatic-tube postal system delivering mail between Brooklyn and Manhattan in the years right before and after 1900, though efforts to make considerable expansions to the service met with resistance. An article from the May 21, 1902 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

The Pneumatic Tube Postal Commission has apparently concluded that it is not worth while to extend the pneumatic service in this borough beyond the former limits. This is not because the commission thinks badly of the propositions recently submitted by Postmaster Roberts. With these there could have been no reasonable ground for quarrel. Had it been possible to carry them out in their entirety the result would have been of great benefit to Brooklyn in improving the postal service of the borough by connecting the main office with outlying stations with which communication is at present not nearly so expeditious as it might be. But the law authorizing the making of contracts with the tube companies stood in the way of Mr. Roberts’ plan with a provision that not more than 4 per cent of the postal revenues of a city shall be used for the installation of a pneumatic service. After the Brooklyn and New York offices have been joined together, as they were a few years ago, the commission estimates that not more than $60,000 will be available for the extensions asked by Postmaster Roberts. At an estimated maximum cost of  $17,000 per mile this expenditure would give to Brooklyn something more than three miles of local extensions, but the commission is inclined to consider that in this case half a loaf is worse than no bread, and will therefore decline to authorize the extensions until such time as more money is made available.

There is no doubt that the postal service of Brooklyn would be materially improved even by the expenditure of so small a sum as $60,000. Why wait until more money is available? Why not extend as far as possible with what funds are at hand and trust to the future for the complete realization of plans that for the present must be either mollified or abandoned altogether? If we cannot get what we ought to have by all means let us have what we can get.•

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Old Print Articles: Softening Of The Brain, Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1882-94)

September 28, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

While “softening of the brain” refers to the degeneration of tissue in the cerebellum, it seemed to be a catch-all phrase to explain a variety of different types of ailments in the 19th century. The following articles from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle focus on those afflicted by this vague, nebulous disorder.

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“Hoadley D. Ives’ Precarious Condition” (March 11, 1894): “New Haven, Conn.–The condition of Hoadley D. Ives, the millionaire financier, who became suddenly ill yesterday, is very critical. Dr. Russell, his physician, says he has softening of the brain, and, while he is not now confined to his bed, his death is likely to occur at any moment. He is not violent to-day, but this morning insisted upon going out to feed his chickens. He is the wealthiest man in New Haven and is a leading director in two or three banks and has important business connections with almost every large enterprise in the city.”

••••••••••

“Death of Jacob Gius” (August 12, 1887): “About midnight Jacob Gius, of Jamaica, died from softening of the brain. He kept an oyster saloon in the village for twenty years, and was known to hundreds of Brooklynites. Domestic troubles and drink destroyed his mind.”

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"Richard Waycott, a prominent telegraph operator and a well known resident of this city, died yesterday of softening of the brain."

“Death of Richard Waycott” (February 9, 1893): “Richard Waycott, a prominent telegraph operator and a well known resident of this city, died yesterday of softening of the brain. He was born in Canada but came to this country when a young man. He held several responsible positions for the Western Union Telegraph company until about a year ago, when he was attacked with the dread disease which necessitated his removal to a sanitarium. Mr. Waycott was past master of Commonwealth lodge No. 400, F. and A. M., and was a prominent figure in masonic circles. He was about 30 years old and leaves a wife and a child.”

••••••••••

“Insanity Consequent on Sunstroke” (February 10, 1882): “One of the unfortunate results of the reviews held here last Summer was the number of cases of sunstroke. It happened on one occasion when one division was called out to Prospect Park and the thermometer was high up in the nineties. The hot spell came suddenly, and the men were overdressed and they were speedily overheated and some of them succumbed to sunstroke. One of the unfortunates, Mr. Henderson, of the Forty-Seventh Regiment, has since developed one of the most dangerous consequences, namely, irritation of the brain, which manifests itself in insane delusions. It is sincerely to be hoped that he has fallen into the hands of an able medical practitioner, for under such circumstances only can a permanent cure be expected. The specific effect of overheating is to produce a slight cerebral irritation, which is not immediately allayed. Even under treatment the patient is for two years liable to the recurrence of symptoms–predisposed, in fact, to inflammation of the brain. But with intelligent watchfulness the worst effects can be avoided and permanent recovery accomplished. Sometimes, where the progress of the inflammation is not arrested, softening and sloughing away of the brain matter ensue, ending in paralysis and insanity.”

••••••••••

"An area of softening was found in the left hemisphere."

“Hanged an Insane Man” (July 3, 1893): “Reading, Pa.–It appears from the report of the physicians who made an examination of the brain of Buccieri, who was hanged on Thursday, that his mind was diseased, and that he was not responsible for the crime for which he was executed.

In the report they say that the third membrane was markedly congested; an area of softening was found in the left hemisphere, and the entire left lobe of the cerebellum was softened to such an extent as to diminish the tracings of the well known lines of the brain. In one portion they found at least a dozen cysts, some of them as large as a pea, and several calcareous deposits. This report has created quite a sensation.

It is now said that a number of those in charge of the prisoner were convinced that he was insane. The priests who attended his spiritual needs felt so.”

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Old Print Article: “Disgraceful Affair–A Woman Tarred And Feathered,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1860)

September 25, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"They took a woman named Jane Longley, who was made the victim of a series of indignities, not the least of which was the application of a coat of tar and feathers."

You have to assume plumage and adhesives were exceedingly cheap during the 19th century, because you could not walk down the street without seeing some poor soul being turned into a makeshift bird. One such case of tarring and feathering was covered in the September 15, 1860 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, in an article that was reprinted from the Detroit Free Press. An excerpt:

“An occurrence of a disgraceful nature took place a few days since in the town of Romulus, in this county, of which we yesterday received some particulars. A large party consisting of men and boys with a few women, turned out in the night in disguise, and went to the house of a man named Jeremiah Ganung, from which they took a woman named Jane Longley, who was made the victim of a series of indignities, not the least of which was the application of a coat of tar and feathers, and an impromptu ride upon a fence rail. She was banged and knocked about in naked condition, until from the abuse and exposure she nearly fainted, and was thought to be in a dying condition.

While she was in this state the party gathered around her and entered into a conversation in regard to the probable consequences of their conduct, when from the familiar tone of their voices she recognized a number of them. She afterward gave the names of thirty-nine persons, who have been arrested and held to answer. Among them was the daughter of the man with whom she lived, and several other women.

The alleged cause is a disposition on the part of the woman to ill treat the children belonging to the family. She had lived with Ganung several years, and has borne three children by him, having previous to the death of his wife entered the family as a domestic. It is charged the he desired to get rid of her, and took this means, as he offered no resistance when the crowd entered his house, but allowed them to take her from his bed and do what the chose with her. He has been arrested.”

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Old Print Article: “Not On Hand To Prosecute The Girl Who Threw Vitriol On Him,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1891)

September 22, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"I will blow his brains out in the street, and then I will have satisfaction."

A young Brooklyn woman, wronged by a married man, scalded him with sulfuric acid, according to an article in the August 24, 1891 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“Mamie Roach, a young woman who claims to have been wronged by the man whom she trusted, took justice into her own hands last night and marked the man for life by pouring vitriol on his face and neck. She was arrested, locked up over night and she fainted in court this morning, but she was discharged from custody. As she was driven out of the yard of the court in a handsome coach with prancing steeds she appeared, to the unfortunates who were driven through the same gate, to be quite happy, although the flesh of her own hand and arm had been burned by the fluid that she procured for her victim, Charles Gebhardt, a conductor on the Union Avenue car line.

Mamie is 19 years old. She lives with her widowed mother at 27 Maujer Street, and is employed in Thomas’ shoe factory on Hewes Street where she earns $6 a week. She says James Preston, a young man who lives on Manhattan Avenue, near Newton Creek, kept company with her and Gebhardt was Preston’s friend. She quarreled with Preston three weeks ago, and since then she received attentions from Gebhardt. Last Friday, she alleges, he asked her to go to Rockaway with him. She refused, but she did go with him to the Novelty Theater. Her mother sat up all night waiting for her return. At noon on Saturday the mother received the following letter:

"Gebhardt cried aloud with pain and he ran to Nicot's drug store, where oil was poured on the burns."

DEAR MOTHER–I now write a few lines hoping you will get this note. Last night I met Charles Gebhardt and we went to the theater. After coming out we went through Broadway to a saloon. He made me go in and drink champagne. I had such a feeling come over me that I was not able to walk. Then we took some car, though I don’t know which car, but the first thing I found myself away in some hotel on Myrtle Avenue. When I woke up I was struck dumb. I then told him I would not go home. Then he said, ‘Well, I would tell you the truth.’ He is a married man with three children. Well, you know I did not want to go home. You can’t blame me. Maybe by the time you get this I will have got rid of myself if I can easily do so. Oh, I think that must have been a put-up job between he and Jim, but never mind. I will be out of that. If I can get on his car I will fix him if I can. I will blow his brains out in the street, and then I will have satisfaction. Mamie.

Mrs. Roach hastened to the lower end of Union Avenue as soon as she had read the letter. There she found Mamie weeping on the sidewalk. ‘Mamie wanted me to go with her to see Gebhardt,’ said Mrs. Roach to an Eagle reporter. ‘I went out with her last evening to board his car. I did not know she had any vitriol. We got on his car at Messerole Street and as soon as Gebhardt came to where we sat Mamie screamed and dashed something in his face. She was very nervous and the fluid fell upon her and upon the dresses of several ladies. The poor child did not know what she was doing.’

"When the girl threw the vitriol there was an exciting scene."

When the girl threw the vitriol there was an exciting scene. Gebhardt cried aloud with pain and he ran to Nicot’s drug store, where oil was poured on the burns. Policeman Sweeney arrested Mamie. She and her victim were treated by the same surgeon at St. Catherine’s Hospital, and then Mamie said that Gebhardt had given her drugged champagne in a Broadway saloon and she knew nothing more until she awoke Saturday morning in a strange hotel on Myrtle Avenue, near the city lines. Her mother, she added, had induced her to take the revenge she had. She was searched and a bottle of laudanum was found in her pocket. She said she had intended to poison herself after she burned Gebhardt’s face. The police doubt she had any intention of taking the poison.

Gebhardt went home to his wife and children at 834 Flushing Avenue. He admitted that he had gone out to the Myrtle Avenue hotel with Mamie, but claimed that she had gone willingly and denied that he had drugged her.”

 

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Old Print Article: “Drop That Pug Or I’ll Drop You,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1894)

September 19, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"He was an aristocratic pug, accustomed to select society and would not notice them."

I don’t know if dog catchers in 1890s New York were paid for each mutt that they brought back to the pound, but something strange was going on. During that decade, dog catchers had a habit of luring canines off their owners’ properties so that they could be collared and taken into custody. This strategy backfired sometimes, as can be gleaned from the following July 16, 1894 article in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“The dog catchers paid another visit to the Twenty-ninth Ward this morning and again got into trouble. The new wards are a harvest for those officers and no matter how they are treated, they reappear smiling. About 4:50 this morning William Robertson, a well known and wealthy resident of Clarkson Street, let his pet pug out in the yard. The pug celebrated his release with a sharp yelp. The dog catchers were in the neighborhood, heard the bark and drove up to the Robertson residence. Seven men jumped from the wagon. They tried to coax the dog outside the yard, but he was an aristocratic pug, accustomed to select society and would not notice them. One catcher then, braver than the others, opened the gate and threw in some meat. The dog did not pay attention to that either. The man then went in the yard, chased the animal and, after some time, caught him on the stoop surrounding the house. The dog squealed and Mrs. Robertson ran out of the house to see what was the matter. She grasped the situation at a glance and told the man to drop the dog. He answered in an insulting manner and Mrs. Robertson called her husband, who also ordered the man to drop the dog. The catcher was impudent to Robertson also and the latter drew a revolver from his pocket and shouted, ‘Drop that dog or I will drop you.’

One of the men in the wagon cried out, ‘Drop it, Bill. He means business.’ The man dropped the dog and ran. His seven companions drove on with thirty-five captive dogs in their wagon. This morning Mr. Robertson appeared before Justice Steers and asked for a warrant for the arrest of the man, whose name he did not know. The justice told him first to complain to the mayor and then he would grant the warrant. Mr. Robertson left the court house for the city hall.

••••••••••

Pluto encounters a dog catcher, 1932:

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Old Print Article: “Embalming Secret Is Lost,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1900)

September 14, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

"Dr. Holmes died January 8 of softening of the brain."

A shockingly ghoulish chapter from the annals of American medicine was recorded following the death of New York coroner Dr. Thomas Holmes, who had stealthily been using unclaimed child cadavers to experiment with the mummification process. An excerpt from a story about his dark science which ran in the November 2, 1900 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Dr. Holmes died January 8 of softening of the brain. He was at the time experimenting with embalming gas. The other day, through the Board of Health, the police removed all the specimens from the basement. They had been put in a box and had lain there almost untouched since Dr. Homes’ death. Their miscellaneous nature may be judged from the following report made by Dr. Wuest after an examination of the specimens of the morgue.The remains are: The mummified body of a male child, apparently 11 years old, with head, shoulders and arms missing. Had evidently been severed from the body with a saw and body was as hard as wood. Sections of skin cut. Whole length of remains, 39 1/2 inches. The body was mummified to such an extent that a crosscut saw went through it like pine wood. The consistency as of dry leather. The body was sawed across the bottom and then between the legs and spine. The remains were evidently many years old. With these remains were those of three other children. There was also removed from the place at the same time two mummified bodies of monkeys and one head of a monkey.

"There was also removed from the place at the same time two mummified bodies of monkeys and one head of a monkey."

The late Dr. Holmes was born at 42 Forsyth Street, Manhattan, in 1842. He studied medicine and graduated from the University of the City of New York. He soon afterward came to practice in the Eastern District, where he amassed considerable wealth. Shortly before the Civil War he bought about twelve lots on the east side of Marcy Avenue, between South Eighth Street and Division Avenue, and other property, and was at one time said to be worth $100,000. During the Civil War he volunteered as an embalmer and embalmed with a fluid which he prepared himself the bodies of 28,400 soldiers.

According to his widow, the doctor first attracted the attention of President Lincoln by embalming the body of Captain Ellsworth.

After the war Dr. Holmes returned to his home in the Eastern District. He at first resumed the practice of medicine, but as years went by began to devote more and more attention to the study of the embalming processes. At one time he thought he could preserve fresh beef and purchased for purposes of experiment an entire cargo of beefs from Texas. By this purchase the doctor lost nearly $17,000 because the beef all had to be destroyed.

After severe losses Dr. Holmes began to devote himself more exclusively to embalming human subjects, trying to invent what he described as the dry process–that is, embalming or preserving by use of gas. He claimed for his invention that it was superior to that used by the Egyptians four thousand years ago. On this process, it is said, he secured letters of patent. He obtained all the human subjects the remains of which have been found in the cellar from Bellevue Hospital, in Manhattan, where he was well known among students. The monkeys were given to the doctor by friends. Some years ago the doctor began to show decided signs of eccentricity. He put some of the stuffed animals in the windows of his home and this began to excite the curiosity of children going to school.

"At one time he thought he could preserve fresh beef and purchased for purposes of experiment an entire cargo of beefs from Texas."

One winter night two years ago, Dr. Holmes wrote a long incoherent letter to the city editor of the Eagle, in which the doctor hinted that he would divulge the secret of his discovery which he had at last perfected. A reporter called at the house and chatted with the doctor for over two hours. Whenever any question was put to him in regard to his invention, however, he evaded it. He would occasionally refer to the preservation of bodies and then divert to some meaningless narrative in regard to the war.”

 

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