Posts Tagged ‘1906’

Remember This Old-Time Favorite?

August 30, 2010

Um, nope, never heard of it. But while searching for something unrelated, I came across an advertisement for Chicken Cock Whiskey, and thought it was a rather funny name for whiskey.  Seemed sort of redundant to me. Anyway, that prompted me to search the keywords “chicken cock” to see what else I could find. The results follow, intermingled with several Chicken Cock Whiskey ads. I bolded each “chicken cock” so they are easy to spot if you don’t want to read each complete article.

1869 - Galveston, Texas

SAM HOUSTON’S DUEL.

In 1826, six miles south of Franklin, Ky., on the farm of H.J. Duncan, two hundred yards from the Tennessee line, was fought a duel which created widespread excitement throughout the Union, owing to the reputation of the principals. In 1826, Gen. Sam Houston was a member of Congress from the Nashville district in Tennessee, and sending home for distribution a number of documents, he claimed that Curry, the postmaster at Nashville, suppressed and failed to deliver them and, denounced him a scoundrel. For this Curry sent him a challenge by Gen. White. Houston refused  to receive the message, as he stated, “from such a contemptible source,” throwing it on the ground and stamping on it. Gen. White said he was surprised, as no one expected Houston to fight.

To this Houston retorted, “Do you try me.”

Of course a challenge followed from White which Houston promptly accepted. The terms and conditions were, “fifteen feet distance; holster pistols; time sunrise.”

The place chosen as stated, was in Simpson county. On the 23d day of September, 1826, the parties met at the designated point with their seconds. The fact that a duel was to be fought had gone abroad, and a number of persons had secreted themselves near the field to witness the affair, a fact unknown to either principles or seconds. After the first shots had been exchanged and White had fallen to the ground the people rushed to the spot. Houston seeing them, and fearing an arrest, started toward the state line with a view of escaping.

Gen. White called to him, “General, you have killed me.”

Houston then faced the crowd with pistol still in hand, and inquired if there were any officers of the law in the among them, and being answered in the negative he advanced to the side of his late antagonist and kneeling by him took his hand saying: “I am very sorry for you, but you know that it was forced upon me.”

Gen. white replied, “I know it and forgive you.”

White had been shot through just above the hips, and to cleanse the wound of blood the surgeons run one of their old fashioned silk neckerchiefs through the wound. Gen. White recovered from his fearful wound as much to the joy of Houston as himself.

During the week preceding the duel Houston remained at the home of Sanford Duncan, near the field, practicing meanwhile with pistols. At his temporary home were two young belligerent dogs, named for their pugnacious dispositions Andrew Jackson and Thomas H. Benton. These were continually fighting, Houston’s political sentiments leading him to espouse the cause of the Jackson pup, who, very much to his delight, was a constant winner in the frays.

The hour of arising and preparing for the duel on the arrival of the day was 3:40 a.m. Just before that hour “Gen. Jackson” barked beneath the window of his admirer’s room, awakening him. Houston arose without disturbing his attending friends, and began the task of molding bullets with which to fight Gen. White. As the first bullet fell from the mold a game-cock, which he had admired scarcely less than he did the dog, crowed a loud, clear note. Houston, with that element of superstition which finds a place in nearly every mind, accepted the early greetings of his friends as a happy omen, and marking the bullet one side for the dog and the other for the chicken, made up his mind that his pistol should be loaded with it, and that he would first fire that particular ball at General White.

He afterward said that “he was not superstitious, but these two circumstances made him feel assured of success,” thus disproving his own words. The bullet was used and White fell at the first fire, as stated.

After the duel Houston selected as a coat-of-arms “a chicken cock and dog,” and many were the comments made by those unfamiliar with the facts in after years, when as president of Texas and senator in Congress, he sported so strange a crest. These facts are authentic, having been related by Gen. Houston to Sanford Duncan, jr., late of Louisville, while the two were en route to Washington city during Houston’s term as senator.

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Aug 4, 1887

1893 - Lowell, Massachusetts

False Salute.

The rebel sympathising papers throughout the length and breadth of the land have been celebrating what they are pleased to consider a victory in the late election in Connecticut, by displaying at the head of their columns the consecrated emblem of their party and principles, namely a dominica dunghill chicken cock.

This is a fit emblem of the principles of their party. It is only upon the dunghills of ignorance, vice, immorality and barbarism that the toeless, frozen comb, and frost-bitten chicken-cock of Democracy can flap his dirty wings and utter a feeble cock-a-doodle-doo of galvanized delight. But even the poor privilege of doing this with any degree of assurance the elections that have occurred since that of Connecticut have rendered absurd and ridiculous.  These election returns can be seen in another place, and they are anything but an indication of progress backwards by the American people.

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Apr 10, 1867

For background; from same page of the paper:

At an election on the  1st inst., in this State the Copperheads succeeded in electing their candidate for Governor, and three out of the four Congressmen. Two of these Congressional districts were Democratic at last year’s election, and the third only showed a small republican majority.

The enemies of intelligence and freedom have, therefore, only succeeded in overcoming a small majority in one of the Congressional districts, and carried the same against P.T. Barnum, a most unfortunate nomination on the part of the Republicans. Mr. Barnum of course is vastly less objectionable to the moral consciousness of the people, than a prize fighter, such as John Morrisy, whom the Copperheads of New York sent to Congress….

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Apr 10, 1867

1906 - Reno, Nevada

Superstitions.

Country folk – some in jest, some in earnest – translate the voice of a chicken cock crowing at the door into “Stranger coming to-day,” and we remember an old lady who invariably made preparation for company when the waring note was sounded upon her premises. In thirty years, she declared, the sign had never failed.

The Indiana Democrat (Indiana, Pennsylvania) Jan 6 1881

1936 - Mansfield, Ohio

Not Appreciated.

The following is all the notice which our contemporary, the Mail, takes of the splendid triumph of Republicanism in Vermont.

“First reports from Vermont give an increased majority for the Republicans. Vermont is all theirs, and the Green Mountain chicken crows loudly on its own wood-pile.”

We understand that paper had made arrangements to put its “tooting” apparatus in full blast in case rebelized Democracy had increased its vote in that State, but the jollification didn’t come off. The fire went down quietly, or was as quietly put out. That election is the grave of the hopes of the Mail and its friends. Good by Democracy. Good bye to the “tooting” performances of the Mail. The 1st of September has smashed the former and silenced the squeak of the latter. Prepare to reverse the position of your dominica chicken cock. Let it have its back to the ground and its heels, gaffed with treason, in the air.

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Sep 3, 1868

1936 - Mansfield, Ohio

Back in the day, the newspaper editors seemed to really duke it out in their columns. They can be some of the most entertaining things to read in the old papers,  particularly if you can find both sides, which is not the case  for this one:

FOR THE REPUBLICAN COMPILER.
Copy of a letter dated
HARTFORD, Aug. 1, 1820.

Dear Jonathan. – Received yours — nation great favor — very glad to get it; don’t thank you much neither, for copying off my letter and sending it back again — think you might made something of your own; but you used to make new spoons out of old pewter dishes — thought you’d try it again. Heard you’d chang’d your name — glad you got your old one back again — guess you got ‘shamd of your new one — think its no wonder — best a kept your old one — people know you any how, think. Talking about whitewashing, had a mind to whitewash you, to hide the stains — took another look of you — found it must be a foot thick — even wouldn’t do; the stains all over only want another shade; think you best buy lampblack, get some one paint you – if you’re axt how fair you have a mind to be — say jist as white outside as in. Heard you were dead; some say you were and rose again — quite queer thing — have to b’lieve it letter looks so like you — little scaly too; think you’re sick — you look something like a half drowned chicken cock, pecked ‘most to death — too soon begin to crow — too many old games ’bout here — better hold your tongue; they’ve got long spurs — cut your comb for you think — not leave a feather on you — look a little odd when naked — better be still. Queer kind of fowl, Jonathan — put me in mind of the jackdaw with peacock’s feathers on — difference jist this; jackdaw got his stolen feathers plucked out, got a drubbin, and thats enough for him — you better stuff — got worse whipt — won’t behave yet — think you get as much as you’ve a mind to; They say you’ve got turkey feathers put on to cheat the eagles with — want to pass for one; wno’t do, Jonathan — your eyes too bad — too near a been blind — eagles always seen to sharp for you. Cousin doughface got a cart for sale, made for two horses — I got one — you’d best bring a nag from ‘mong the Pennamites with you — but they say Pennamite and Yankee naggies wont pull together; s’pose you found that out by this time.

You promise to come my road — be sure when you come to bring something with you — dont do as you did last time. Talk something ’bout celebrations and modest people — think they’re scarce where you came from — guess you never seen a modest man before; you must know, Jonathan, every one hant got as much impudence as you and

CAUSTIC.

P.S. You may write as many letters as you have a mind to; but dont take the Hiesterics too bad, as you did tother time — tell your secrets when you’ve a mind to keep them; think you had not much mind to tell your real name, if you had not got a fit of them, which mostly makes people insane.

Republican Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Aug 16, 1820

1936 - Mansfield, Ohio

ROOSTER STORY CONCERNS FIGHT AT FORT M’HENRY

Baltimore — (AP) — Whether there was a rooster at Fort McHenry during the bombardment by the British in 1814 has been a controversial matter for many years. Legend has it that a rooster, because of his happy crowing, made everybody feel a lot better during the battle.

After James E. Hancock, president of the Society of the War of 1812, said at the recent Defenders’ day exercises, he believed the rooster story was a myth, John A. Hartman of Baltimore brought forth the memoirs of his father, John B. Seidenstricker.

Seidenstricker wrote that his uncle, Henry Barnhart, “was under Colonel Armistead at Fort McHenry during bombardment by the British fleet. He had a chicken cock there that he prized very hightly, because of its beauty perhaps, and was careful to preserve it from all harm.

“But he could not protect it from a fragment of a bursting shell which struck the rooster on his foot, causing it, from alarm of pain, to fly up and light upon the flagstaff, where he remained, crowing occasionally, until the conflict ceased.

“Colonel Armistead offered to purchase the cock but he would not part with it and kept it until it died, when he placed it in a suitable box and in company with a platoon of fort soldiers, buried it with the honors of war, firing several rounds over its grave.”

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Sep 16, 1932

1936 - Uniontown, Pennsylvania

This one is really long, so I bolded the section, rather than just the “chicken cock.” I think this person was some sort of an armchair general or something.

The Aspects of the War — What Next?

The Army of the Potomac has just performed one of those evolutions, for which it is so justly renowned. It has marched forward and then marched back again. As a gymnastic performance, it has been well done, and as exercise is absolutely necessary to health, it is not to be regretted that the army has had an opportunity of stretching its limbs and breathing the fresh air. It has at last arrived at “Brandy Station.” The frequency with which both the rebel and Union armies dwell at this station shows it to be a fashionable place of resort to military gentlemen. We trust the name is rather metaphorical than real. It is “given out” (see the Washington telegraphs) that the grand march over the Rapidan was made to prevent reinforcements from Lee to Longstreet. Perhaps so; but there are some objections to that theory. — Meade began his march on the 27th (Friday) and the army of Bragg had been defeated two days before, leaving Grant at liberty to cut off Longstreet and reinforce Burnside; besides which more than a week must elapse before any efficient reinforcements could reach Longstreet — bringing it to the 4th of December — before which time the fate of the contest between Burnside and Longstreet must have been decided. — Let the theory stand, however, till a better can be given. The facts seem to show that Meade’s army went on very well till it ran against some fortifications, which not liking to storm, it turned back. But, the question may be asked, why not go around them? Why should a man run against a fort, when there is room enough to go around?

It seems that Meade’s army crossed partly at, and partly above where Hooker did; that being across the river instead of moving onward toward Richmond; it wheeled to the right and formed a line of battle across the road from Frederick to Orange Court House, with the right resting on the Rapidan; that between this line of battle and Orange Court House, Lee with his army, in his fortifications. It seems to me that this performance was exactly like what I have seen performed by a chicken cock on the farm, who by deploying his squadron from the barnyard in front of his rival at the chickenhouse, stops, flaps his wings, and crows (in his expressive language) “Come on!” But his enemy will not come, but crows in the intrenchments of the chickenhouse; whereupon the challenger thinks enough has been done for his honor, and retreats on the barnyard. I hope no military hero, renowned in war, will feel aggrieved at this comparison. The analogies of nature are very strong. The great and illustrious men of science are now engaged in tracing man back to monkey. For my own part, I consider a comparison with a game cock far more dignified. I never saw a baboon without a supreme contempt for him, while a game cock has many admirable qualities.

To return form our digression. Meade’s army did not pass by Lee’s; because, if it did, Lee could pass behind it, on the road to Washington. In fact, we must consider the Army of the Potomac as (what it has been for a year past,) a mere movable breastwork for the defense of Washington. Nor is that fact of any positive importance. — Unless Richmond can be taken, from the west side of James River, there is no great use in taking it at all, for, in any other case, the army and the great criminals who compose the rebel Government, will all escape to Lynchburg or Danville. Richmond, as a strategic point, is not worth a straw.

Leaving the Army of the Potomac to its winter quarters, at Brandy Station, we pass to the glorious Army of the Cumberland. That army, which, in the poetic language of General Meigs, fought part of “its battle above the clouds,” which stormed Lookout Mountain, 2,000 feet high, and crowned its summits with living laurels, green as its mountain pines. That army may be thankful, if covetous of fame, that it is not within reach of Washington. To that army our eyes must turn. Will that, too, go into winter quarters? Or will Gen. Grant, with his characteristic vigor and judgment, asking no leave of winter or of enemies, push on, dealing deadly blows at every step? This is what ought to be done. Can he do it? The first thing in the way of the army is the necessity of establishing a new depot of provisions and munitions at Chattanooga. Whenever an army advances a hundred miles, or more, a new center of supplies must be established, and one of the first considerations in the plan of a campaign is where the depots of supplies shall be. Admitting the successful advance of the army, new depots must be established at each and every successive advance. — Nor is this all. Their communications must be kept open, and their defenses such that they can stand a moderate siege. Gen. Grant has had one very instructive example of this in the seizure of his stores at Holly Springs. Heretofore Nashville has been the great center of supplies for the armies in Tennessee.

Now, Chattanooga must be made a center. Nor will there be any great difficulty in this. From Nashville to Chattanooga by rail, is 151 miles, which will make an easy and safe line of transit, when we occupy, as we now do, the defensible points south of Bridgeport. The bridge over the Tennessee must be completed; a great mass of stores removed from Nashville to Chattanooga; and the defenses on the Northern extremities of Mission and Lookout Ridges made strong. When this is done, the army is ready to move two hundred miles further. But this is heavy work, and may take two or three weeks or more. Will Grant then advance? Certainly, if he does not contradict his own character, and all the demands of the war. He has already given us, an example of what he will do in his march on Holly Springs and Grenada, in the middle of December.  Besides, what is there to arrest the march of an army in the South in winter? Is there any reason to stop the operations of an army in Southern Ohio, during winter? Not at all; and there is still less in Georgia. When the troops get disentangled from all the ridges of mountains, that extend about forty miles south of Chattanooga, they will find a winter march comparatively easy. It will not do for our armies to stand still. Now is the time, when every blow tells upon the rebels with double force. They are like the sinking pugilist, who after having stood several rounds with apparent strength and courage, begins to feel the blood oozing from his veins; his sight grows dizzy; his limbs become unsteady, and he deals hard, but ill-directed blows, which often strike the empty air, till he begins to stagger. Then two or three blows from his adversary, fell him to the earth, and he rises no more. Cut off from half their territory; cut off, from their cattle in Texas, and their sugar in Louisiana; their men exhausted by war and disease; their money worthless; their people dissatisfied, how much longer can they last? Toombs’ speech; the North Carolina election; the Richmond papers; the constant accounts of distress and exhaustion from every quarter, tell the story without any resort to argument or imagination. The rebels are staggering from exhaustion, and their only hope is that Lee and Bragg may keep the field till somebody offers them peace or compromise.

The hope is in vain.

Unconditional surrender is the only terms they will be allowed.

Whether their rebel dominion perishes in the last ditch or not; whether they die in battle or by exhaustion, they will come to an early end, and be remembered only for the most signal folly and the most signal punishment which the world ever saw since the downfall of Rome. — Cin. Gaz.

Burlington Weekly Hawkeye, The (Burlington, Iowa) Dec 12, 1863

Dust Off the Old Waffle Iron

June 29, 2010

Today is National Waffle Iron Day!

GRIDDLE-CAKES, WAFFLES, ETC.

If you have not used your griddle or waffle-iron for some time; wash it off hard with hot soap and water; wipe and rub well with dry salt. Heat it and grease with a bit of fat salt pork on a fork.

It is a mistake, besides being slovenly and wasteful, to put on more grease than is absolutely necessary to prevent the cake from sticking.

A piece of pork an inch square should last for several days. Put on a great spoonful of butter for each cake, and before filling the griddle, test it with a single cake, to be sure that all is right with it as well as the batter.

The same rules apply to waffles. Always lay hot cakes and waffles upon a hot plate as soon as baked.

Indiana Progress (Indiana, Pennsylvania) Feb 17, 1874

RAISED FLOUR WAFFLES.

Stir into a quart of flour sufficient lukewarm milk to make a thick batter. The milk should be stirred in gradually, so as to have it free from lumps. Put in a table-spoonful of salt, and half a tea-cup of yeast.

When risen, fill your waffle irons with the batter, bake them on a bed of coals.

When they have been on the fire between two and three minutes, turn the waffle irons — when brown on both sides, they are sufficiently baked.

The waffle irons should be well greased with lard, and very hot, before one is put in.

The waffles should be buttered as soon as cooked. Serve them up with powdered white sugar and cinnamon.

Title: The Ladies’ National Magazine, Volumes 7-8
Publisher: C. J. Peterson, 1845
(Google book LINK Pg 178)

WAFFLES.

We are indebted to the Germans for this cake, which, if this receipt is exactly followed, will be found excellent. Warm a quart of milk, and cut up in it a quarter of a pound of the best fresh butter, and stir it about to soften in the warm milk. Beat eight eggs till very thick and smooth, and stir them gradually into the milk and butter, in turn with half a pound of sifted flour. Then add two table-spoonfuls of strong fresh brewer’s or baker’s yeast. Cover the pan with a clean thick cloth, and set it in a warm place to rise.

When the batter has risen nearly to the top, and is covered with bubbles, it is time to bake; first stirring in a wine-glass of rose-water. Having heated your waffle iron in a good fire, grease it inside with the fresh butter used for the waffle mixture, or with fresh lard; fill it, and shut the iron closely. Turn it on the fire, that both sides of the cake may be equally well done. Each side will require about three minutes baking. Take them out of the iron by slipping a knife underneath. Then grease and prepare the iron for another waffle. Butter them, and send them to the tea-table “hot and hot;” and, to eat with this, a bowl or glass dish of sugar flavored with powdered cinnamon.

In buying waffle irons choose them very deep, so as to make a good impression when baked — if shallow, the waffle will look thin and poor. Those that bake one waffle at a time are the handsomest and most manageable.

Title: Miss Leslie’s New Cookery Book
Author: Eliza Leslie
Publisher: T. B. Peterson, 1857
(Google book LINK, pgs. 441-442)


RICE WAFFLES.

Two cupfuls flour, one-half teaspoonful salt, one teaspoonful baking powder, one egg beaten separately, one tablespoonful butter, one cupful milk, one cupful cold boiled rice, one-half cup of the water in which the rice was boiled. Sift the dry ingredients into a bowl; make a hole in the center, into which put the rice and the rice water. Add the well beaten yolk of the egg, the milk and melted butter. Stir until thoroughly mixed. Lastly, fold in the white of the egg beaten to a still froth.

Fry in a well greased waffle iron.

Fort Wayne News (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Mar 23, 1899

To make rice waffles take a teacup and a half of rice that has been well boiled, and warm in a pint of rich milk, stirring it till smooth and mixed. Then removed it from the fire, and stir in a pint of cold milk and a teaspoonful of salt. Beat four eggs very light, and stir them into the mixture, in turn, with sufficient rice flour to make a thick batter.

Bake in a waffle-iron.

Send them to the table hot, butter them, and eat them with powdered sugar and cinnamon, prepared in a small bowl for the purpose.

Indiana Progress (Indiana, Pennsylvania) Mar 27, 1873

How to Make Good Waffles.

Boil and mash about a pint of sweet potatoes. Sift one good teaspoonful of soda with three cups of flour. Beat two eggs light. Add one teaspoonful salt and sour milk enough to make a thin batter. Have the waffle-iron as hot as possible without burning the waffles.

Woodland Daily Democrat (Woodland, California) Mar 24, 1890

GERMAN WAFFLES.

1 quart flour, 1/2 teaspoonful salt, 3 tablespoonfuls sugar, 2 large teaspoonfuls Royal Baking Powder, 2 tablespoonfuls lard, rind of 1 lemon, grated, 1 teaspoonful Royal Extract Cinnamon, 4 eggs and 1 pint thin cream. Sift together flour, sugar, salt and powder; rub in lard cold; add beaten eggs, lemon rind, extract and milk. Mix into smooth, rather thick batter.

Bake in hot waffle iron, serve with sugar flavored with Royal Extract of Lemon.

***

SOFT WAFFLES.

1 quart flour, 1/2 teaspoonful salt, 1 teaspoonful sugar, 2 teaspoonfuls Royal Baking Powder, 1 large tablespoonful butter, 2 eggs, 1 1/2 pints milk.

Sift together flour, salt, sugar and powder; rub in butter cold; add beaten eggs and milk; mix into smooth consistent batter that will run easily and limpid from mouth of pitcher.

Have waffle-iron hot and carefully greased each time; fill 2-3, close it up, when brown turn over.

Sift sugar on them, serve hot.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) May 25, 1895

South African Wafels.

South African “wafels” vastly differ from our waffles merely in being made with wine as a “moistener” rather than with milk for the principal liquid ingredient.

In South Africa when they are going to make “wafels” they take a pound of flour, three-quarters of a pound of butter, half a pound of sugar, eight eggs, half a pint of wine and a teaspoonful of sifted cinnamon. The butter and eggs are creamed; then they mix in alternately one egg and one spoonful of flour, add the wine and spice and bake in a waffle iron.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) May 10, 1903

CREAM WAFFLES.

Put into a bowl two cupfuls of sifted flour, three and a half level teaspoonfuls of baking powder and half a teaspoonful of salt. Beat the yolks of two eggs and add to them one and one quarter cupfuls of milk and then the flour mixture. Beat until smooth one teaspoonful of melted butter and the whites of two eggs whipped stiff.

Cook on a hot, greased waffle iron and serve with maple sirup.

The waffles should be thin and crisp.

The Daily Review ( Decatur, Illinois) May 14, 1904

Tomato Waffles

Pare six medium-sized ripe tomatoes, chop very fine and add one teaspoon salt, one-fourth teaspoon pepper, one tablespoon butter melted after measuring; sift one-half teaspoon soda in a little flour to make the mixture like a thin griddle cake batter; have your waffle iron very hot, grease both under and upper lids, place a small tablespoon of the batter into each section, close the lid upon it and bake at least one minute on each side; when serving, cut the sections apart and arrange on a napkin.

This makes a novel and delicious entree.

Title: Good Living and How to Prepare it
Authors    King’s Daughters of Iowa, King’s Daughters of Iowa. Circle No. One (Oskaloosa)
Publisher: Hedge-Wilson Co., 1905
(Google book LINK pg. 113)

Waffles, Southern Style.

Mix and sift one and three-fourths cupfuls of flour, three teaspoonfuls of baking powder and one-half teaspoonful of salt, add gradually one cupful of milk, the yolks of two eggs well beaten, one tablespoonful of melted butter and the white of two eggs beaten stiff.

Cook on a greased hot waffle iron and serve at once with maple syrup.

A waffle iron should fit closely on the range, be well heated on the one side, turned, heated on the other side, and thoroughly greased before the iron is filled. In filling put a tablespoonful of the batter in each compartment near the centre of the iron, cover, and the mixture will spread to just fill the iron. If sufficiently heated, it needs to be turned almost as soon as filled and covered.

Trenton Times (Trenton, New Jersey) Sep 14, 1906

Recipes For Waffles.

(By Mrs. J.M. Fine)

One-half cup of cornstarch, two cups of flour, three teaspoons of baking powder, one teaspoon of salt, three eggs, well beaten, one and one-half cups of sweet milk, three tablespoons of melted butter, one tablespoon of Karo corn syrup.

Mix to a thin batter.

Have waffle iron very hot before pouring in the batter.

Witchita Daily Times (Wichita Falls, Texas) Sep 3, 1914

Buckwheat Waffles.

2 cups buckwheat flour.
1/2 teaspoon salt.
4 teaspoons baking powder.
2 tablespoons molasses.
2 cups milk.
1 tablespoon melted fat.
2 eggs, beaten separately.

Mix and sift dry ingredients. Add molasses, milk, melted fat and eggs.

Heat waffle iron and grease well, put a tablespoon of mixture in each compartment, cover and cook, turn occasionally until crisp and brown.

Serve with syrup.

These may be cooked on a griddle if a waffle iron is not available.

Fitchburg Daily Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Jun 17, 1918

The chocolate nut waffles are made by sifting together 2 cups of pastry flour, 1/3 cup of sugar, 1/3 cup of ground chocolate or 3 tablespoons of cocoa, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, 4 teaspoons baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt. Beat 2 egg yolks and add 1 1/4 cups of milk. Stir liquids into dry ingredients and add 1/2 cup melted butter. Fold in stiffly-beaten egg whites and 1/2 cup finely-chopped nuts and bake in hot waffle iron. This makes 7 or 8 large waffles.

Centralia Chronicle Advertiser (Centralia, Washington) Apr 24, 1936


Brutal Blute Kicks His Wife to Death

June 7, 2010

Portsmouth, N.H. (Image from http://en.wikipedia.org)

KICKED TO DEATH.

The Brutal Act of a Brewer in New Hampshire.

PORTSMOUTH, N.H., Dec. 27 — The police were notified that a murder had been committed in this city yesterday in a residence. When the officers entered the kitchen on the floor a most horrible sight met their eyes. Lying dead on the floor was Margaret Blute, the wife of John Blute. The body was perfectly naked. The head, throat and body were terribly bruised and discolored, and from all appearances the woman had been kicked and beaten to death. The woman’s husband was sitting unconcernedly beside the body, fully dressed, and his four little children were in the corner crying.

The man looked up at the officers and saying: “This is a bad piece of business,” struck a match and lighted his pipe.

When he went to leave the room a few minutes later he was arrested.

He said that after he had beaten and kicked his wife in their bedroom he had thrown her down into the cellar and then went to sleep. When he woke up, about midnight, he found her dead on the floor, and had called in some neighbors. He thought it was about 5:30 p.m. when he had beaten his wife, but wasn’t sure.

He said he was 45 years of age, and had been married seven years. His wife was 33.

The authorities took charge of the house, and neighbors cared for the children. The prisoner will be arraigned on the charge of murder in the first degree. He was employed in a brewery, and is said to be of a peaceful disposition.

Trenton Times, The (Trenton, New Jersey) Dec 27, 1886

NEW HAMPSHIRE

Brutality of Blute the Wife Murderer

PLYMOUTH, Dec. 28 — New and important facts in relation to the Blute murder were elicited at the coroner’s inquest today. Persons who saw a part of the tragedy tell a terrible story and say that Blute, while murdering the woman, told her that he meant to kill her. The coroner’s jury will return a verdict of murder in the first degree tomorrow.

Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Dec 29, 1886

Patrick Blute, the Brute.

PORTSMOUTH, N.H., Dec. 8 — The coroner’s jury rendered a verdict that Mrs. Blute was murdered by her husband, Patrick.

Saturday Herald (Decatur, Illinois) Jan 1, 1887

NEW HAMPSHIRE.

Matters in the Legislature

CONCORD, Jan. 21. The Governor and Council this forenoon gave a hearing upon the petition for the pardon of Patrick Blute, who was sentenced to 20 years imprisonment in April, 1877, (typo) for manslaughter in killing his wife in Portsmouth on Christmas day, 1886. The ground upon which the application is based is that Blute is incurably ill of consumption. Hon. Calvin Page, of Portsmouth, appeared for the petitioners and Attorney General Bainard and County Solicitor Emery in opposition.

Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Jan 22, 1891

Patrick Blute, the Portsmouth wife murderer, died in prison at Concord, N.H.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Jan 31, 1891

Title: Reports, Volume 1
Author: New Hampshire
Published: 1892
(Google book, pg 175 – LINK)

One of Patrick Blute’s daughters:

The marriage of Artis F. Schurman and Miss Margaret E. Blute, two well known young people, is announced to take place on Wednesday, Feb. 8.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jan 31, 1899

Mrs. Margaret E. Bray

Mrs. Margaret E. Bray of 589 Dennett street, wife of Mark W. Bray, died early this morning after a long illness. She was born in Portsmouth, the daughter of the late John and Margaret (Quinn) Blute.

Mrs. Bray is survived by her husband, one son, Charles A. Schurman of Warwick, R.I.; two daughters, Mrs. Helen M. Cooper and Hazel F. Schurman, both of Philadelphia, Pa., and two sisters, Mrs. Mary O’Gilvie and Mrs. Julia Remick, both of Portsmouth.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Dec 12, 1944

Patrick Blute’s father:

John Blute.

John Blute, one of the oldest Irish residents in the city, died at the home of his granddaughter on Dennett street, on Wednesday evening, the 20th inst., aged eighty-six years. He had been a citizen of Portsmouth for over fifty years.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Nov 21, 1901

Wills proved. — John Blute. Portsmouth, Margaret E. Schurman, executrix;…

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jan 3, 1902

Image from cardcow.com

Another daughter:

Wedding of Miss Blute And Mr. Remick

CEREMONY PERFORMED BY REV. FR. CAVANAUGH

A pretty wedding of two popular young people took place at six o’clock on Thursday evening at the rectory of the Church of the Immaculate Conception, when Miss Julia G. Blute of this city and Austin Remick of Rye were married.

The ceremony was performed by Rev. Fr. William J. Cavanaugh.

The bride was tastefully gowned in a dress of Alice blue with a pink hat. She was attended by her sister, Miss Mary Blute, who wore a handsome dress of pale lavender.

Walter Varrell of Dover, a life-long friend of the groom, acted as best man.

After the ceremony, Mr. and Mrs. Remick repaired to the home of the bride, 10 Langdon street, where the immediate friends and relatives enjoyed a collation and a reception was held.

Mr. and Mrs. Remick received many costly and useful gifts and the congratulations of a legion of acquaintances, who wish them much joy in their new life.

The bride has for the past six years been an employe of the Morley Button Company and a young lady held in high esteem by her shopmates. The groom is one of the best known young men of his native town and has many warm friends at home and in this city.

Mr. and Mrs. Remick will resdie at 10 Langdon street.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) May 25, 1906

Mrs. Julia G. Remick

RYE — Mrs. Julia Genevieve Remmick, 69, of Brackett Road, widow of Austin F. Remick, died this morning.

Born in Portsmouth Jan. 31, 1883, the daughter of the late Patrick and Margaret (Quinn) Blute, she had resided in Rey for the past 47 years.

Survivors include four sons, Sgt. Stanton G. Remick of the Portsmouth police department, Melvin S., Artis F. and Sherman A. Remick, all of Rey; two daughters, Mrs. Lawrence Harmon of Machias, Me., and Mrs. Lawrence Seavey of Rye; one sister, Mrs. Mary Ogilvie of Portsmouth; 15 grandchildren; three great-grandchildren and several nieces and nephews.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jan 12, 1953

Blute family - 1880 Census

*****

The elder John Blute and granddaughters - 1900 Census

The Diary of a Forty-Niner

April 16, 2010

Originally, I just planned to stick this at the bottom of another post and provide a link, but then I started reading the book.  It is a quick read, authentic and very entertaining.  I have clipped a few excerpts of the text as examples.

This first clip is from the preface; it gives some background information on the material and the forty-niner who wrote it.

***

This next excerpt gives a rather humorous description of his jackass:

Next, is the disappearance of two fellow miners, Ristine and Carter, although I am only excerpting two small snippets, so if you want to know more, you will have to read the book:

***

 

 

And no gold mining story would be complete without the mention of gambling:

 

For those who enjoy romance, there is definitely a little of that with the French woman, Marie:

Evidently, there are several editions of this book, the latest one listed as being published in 2007.

Title:    The Diary of a Forty-Niner
Author:    Chauncey L. Canfield
Publisher:    M. Shepard Co., 1906
Length:    231 pages

Here is the link to the edition I used  in this post: (Google book LINK.)

The Mill Girls – Going, Going, Gone

April 12, 2010

Pepperell Mill Workers

Image description from Maine Memory:

Pepperell Manufacturing Company was a cotton textile mill which operated at the Saco River falls in Biddeford for 100 years from 1849-1949. The company was named after Sir William Pepperell, a Maine soldier and merchant. Pepperell made sheeting and blankets many of which were shipped to Asian countries. Pepperell still exists today in some form due to mergers.

At mid century, ongoing labor strife and rising tension between mill owners and their increasingly savvy female work force led to a shift in the composition of mill workers.

Cropped Image from Shorpy

TURN OUT OF THE FACTORY GIRLS.

The Yankee factory girls are ‘some.’ In Maine recently, the Proprietors reduced the wages, whereupon there was a general determination to strike; and as they were obliged to give a month’s notice before quitting work, they have meanwhile issued a circular to the world at large, in which is the following paragraph:

We are now working out our notice, and shall soon be out of employment — can turn our hand to most anything — don’t like to be idle — but determined not to work for nothing where folks can afford to pay. Who wants help? —

We can make bonnets, dresses, puddings, pies, or cake; patch, darn, knit, roast, stew and fry; make butter and cheese, milk cows, feed chickens, and hoe corn; sweep out the kitchen, put the parlor to rights; make beds, split wood, kindle fires, wash and iron, besides being remarkably fond of babies — in fact, can do anything the most accomplished housewife is capable of, not forgetting the scolding on Mondays and Saturdays; for specimens of spunk, will refer you to our overseer.

Speak quick! — Black eyes, fair foreheads, clustering locks, beautiful as a Hebe, can sing like a seraph and smile most bewitchingly; any elderly gentleman in want of a wife, willing to sustain either character; in fact we are in the market.

Who bids?

Going, going, gone.

Who’s the lucky man?

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Jan 20, 1849

Mill Girl

Image from cover of:

Title    The Lowell offering: writings by New England mill women (1840-1845)
Author    Benita Eisler
Editor    Benita Eisler
Edition    illustrated
Publisher W. W. Norton & Company, 1998

GRINDING MILL OWNERS

SEVERELY SCORED BY A LOWELL MILL GIRL.

She Says that Agent Lyon Draws a Salary of $12,000 a Year, Which if True Would Make Him the Best Paid Agent in Lowell.

Under the caption of “Grinding Down Mill Girls” the following letter has been received by THE SUN:

Mr. Editor — I thought I would write a few lines to you to give an idea of what the life of a Lowell mill girl is at the present time. I have worked for 20 years in a Lowell mill, and having shared all the ups and downs of mill life for that length of time, I doubt if many mill girls are better acquainted with mill life than myself. In looking back to my first years as an operative, comparing them in regard to the amount necessary nowadays, I find we do twice the amount of work for less money nowadays. Of course, people will say that we do not work as long hours as we did 20 years ago, which is all very true; but take the cotton weave room girls, twenty years ago she ran five looms, and was considered a fine weaver; today she must run eight looms to hold her own. So it is in every department of the mill. The machinery is speeded so that the machines turn out more work, so I feel confident in my statement that mill girls do twice the amount of work for less money.

I think it is a burning shame the way mill owners treat the operatives. It is easy if you stop to think how owners become rich while operatives become poorer. The former would like to bring the operatives down to a level with the ignorant classes in some pars of Europe. We see a sample of them on our streets with a handkerchief tied over their heads, instead of a hat, and wearing a dress all colors of the rainbow. I thank God for free America and the stars and stripes that protect us, and the old Bay state with Governor Greenhalge to look after the children, and see that they are sent to school and receive a proper education before they are allowed to go into these factories, so that when they reach manhood and womanhood they will be able to speak for themselves and not allow mill owners to squeeze the very life out of them in order to get rich.

The merchant receives as good a price for his goods today as he did ten years ago. If you wish to buy a piece of cotton cloth you will pay as high for it as you did ten years ago. You can get a remnant a little cheaper perhaps, but for perfect goods the prices are the same.

I think it is a shame to keep down the mill girl the way mill owners are doing by reducing wages so often and then closing the mills. No trade or business suffers as much as that of mill operatives. If a dressmaker is able to make one dress a week she gets her price; if she makes two dresses she gets double wages. If the mill girl makes good pay the mill agent at once makes a cut down.

Can it be wondered at that there are are so many strikes? or so much going on in mill circles? The owners make money and the more they make the more they want; they engage heartless men to manage the affairs. I pity the people who work under them, and there are a few on the Carpet. Just at present there are many people suffering from the Carpet strike. It is a just strike. If the stockholders cannot afford to raise wages, why do they not cut down the salaried men? Why do they rob the help and pour the money into the pockets of the stockholders?

When Agent Lyon first came to work for the Lowell company he was content to work for $4000 a year, and now he is receiving $12,000. There are $8000 which should go into the pockets of the operatives.

As long as he has been in Lowell he does not know how to manage the brussels department, and so he has an overseer to help him out; one is as good as the other. The weavers say that the overseer does nothing but make trouble; in the morning he does a little writing and the rest of the day walks around with his hands in his pockets, and for this gets $6 a day.

He watches the weavers like a cat does a mouse, to see if they do anything which needs reporting to the agent. Brussels weavers working on the piece need no watching. These are things which the public should know, and as THE SUN is not brought up by the corporations I believe you will willingly give a few things about mill life in Lowell and the strike going on in the Carpet mill.

A LOWELL MILL GIRL.

Lowell Daily Sun, The (Lowell, Massachusetts) Jun 2, 1894

Image from Shorpy

LINK to Shorpy Historic Picture Archive

THE BALLSTON GIRLS.

“Sweet Ballston girls,” — said Ben one day,
While they were gaily spinning —
“Upon my honor I will say,
“You all are deuced winning.”
“If I but had a fortune now
As ample as my will,
Not one of you, henceforth, I vow,
Should work within that mill.”

“Ah!” — said a pretty blue-eyed miss,
A fair and rosy creature;
With lips that seemed but made to kiss,
And love in every feature —
“With such a will there are but few,
But easier said than done;
Yet this I’d do, if I were you,
Begin to-day with one.

Title    Centennial history of the village of Ballston Spa: including the towns of Ballston and Milton
Authors    Edward Fabrique Grose, John Chester Booth
Publisher    Ballston journal, 1907

CAN WORK NO LONGER

Two Aged Sisters Taken to County Home To-day.

STROVE TO BE INDEPENDENT

Their Industry Recalls Hood’s “Song of the Shirt” — At Last One Sister Became Ill and the Other Was Obliged to Give Up Work and Nurse Her — They Were in Pitiable Condition.
After years of toil and striving to earn an honest living and to keep together, Catherine Coffey, 65 years old, and her sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Smith, two years younger, were taken to the Onondaga county home at 3 o’clock this afternoon from the rooms at No. 119 Seymour street, where, thanks to the generosity of a Syracuse business man by whom they were formerly employed, they have lived rent free for several years.

Hood’s “Song of the Shirt” with a twentieth century setting tells the story of the two aged women. Born to hard work, they have never known anything else and ever since their girlhood they have kept up their poor home by their own exertions. They belonged to the class of sewing women now almost extinct — the kind who would go out to do tailoring by the day in families where the clothing of the boys and sometimes of the man was home made and where two or three times during the year the tailoress came to make over old garments and to make up new ones. This was forty years and more ago, however, and as “store clothes” became cheaper and more commonly used, the demand for the kind of work that the sisters could do became less and less.

They Were Industrious.

The younger sister married, but her husband was soon taken from her by death, and compelling her to take any means that offered to earn a livelihood. And opportunity finally offered to take work home for several custom and ready made clothing houses and of this the women eagerly availed themselves. For years they went every week for the bulky package of unmade garments and returned them neatly put together and finished. “Stitch, stitch, stitch” — it was the same story repeated over and over for close upon twenty years.

But as the sisters grew older and feebler and less able to work, less money flowed into the little treasury and the outgoings began to exceed the incomings. They were frugal and economical to the point of parsimony, but try as they might, they could not always obtain even the few and scanty articles which they were obliged to class among the necessities of life. They counted themselves more than fortunate when one of the members of a firm which had given them employment told them that, if they wished to do so, they might move into a part of a house belonging to him where they could live rent free. With the burden of fearing the monthly visit of the landlord off their shoulders, they felt that their way would be easy, but as their ability to work grew less, they found that even fuel, food, and clothing meant heavier expenses than they were able to meet.

Mrs. Smith Stricken by Illness.

They strove bravely, for independence, however. The packages of clothing were still called for, but they became smaller and took a long time in the making than had been the case before. At last, Mrs. Smith fell sick with inflammatory rheumatism, brought on, perhaps, by lack of sufficient warmth and nourishment, and her sister was obliged to give up her work in order to have the time to care for her. Then it was that Miss Coffey had to ask for aid from the Department of Charities. An inspector was sent to the room of the two aged women and found a pitiable condition of need. The sick woman was lying on the slates of a bed covered with two thin, old blankets and the covering over her was sadly insufficient. There was little furniture in the house and almost no food, but the women said that they thought that they would be able to work again in a short time and only wanted temporary relief.

The physician who was called to attend Mrs. Smith, however, said that her illness would probably be of long duration and that, unless her sister were relieved of care and responsibility, it would only be a matter of a short time before she, too, would be completely broken down. The devotion of the two was so great that it would have been impossible to part them, and, after much persuasion, they were induced to go to the County home, where it is hoped that they may regain their strength and where they will be better provided for than they have been in years.

Syracuse Herald (Syracuse, New York) Apr 30, 1906

The Song of the Shirt

by Thomas Hood

WITH fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread–
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang the “Song of the Shirt.”

“Work! work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work–work–work,
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It’s Oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!

“Work–work–work
Till the brain begins to swim;
Work–work–work
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!

“Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!
Oh, men, with Mothers and Wives!
It is not linen you’re wearing out,
But human creatures’ lives!
Stitch–stitch–stitch,
In poverty, hunger and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.

“But why do I talk of Death?
That Phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own–
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep;
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

“Work–work–work!
My labour never flags;
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread–and rags.
That shatter’d roof–and this naked floor–
A table–a broken chair–
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

“Work–work–work!
From weary chime to chime,
Work–work–work–
As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb’d.
As well as the weary hand.

“Work–work–work,
In the dull December light,
And work–work–work,
When the weather is warm and bright–
While underneath the eaves
The brooding swallows cling
As if to show me their sunny backs
And twit me with the spring.

“Oh! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet–
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet,
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!

“Oh! but for one short hour!
A respite however brief!
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
But only time for Grief!
A little weeping would ease my heart,
But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread!”

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread–

Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch,–
Would that its tone could reach the Rich!–
She sang this “Song of the Shirt!”

Robert Burns: “John Anderson, My Jo”

January 25, 2010

From: The News (Frederick, Maryland) Mar 28, 1924

Intriguing comment [excerpt] left by Astri on a previous post about Robert Burns and Auld Lang Syne:

I just discovered at a local Robbie Burns party celebrating his birthday last night, here in western Canada, what I, for 3 or more decades, have loved and sung in Norwegian as an old Norwegian folk song. This is “Jon Anderson, Min Jo”.

Last night at the party, I discovered the English-language song called “John Anderson, my Joe” – to nearly the same tune (some of the ancient natural-scale tones common in the Norwegian folk music had been anglicized or ‘normalized’ according to english folk tunes) and with basically the same verses, in English.

I said to my friend driving home in the car, “I wonder if Burns heard this song and ‘lifted’ it for its beauty and lovely sentiment,” ~  maybe while travelling in Norway, or in a pub meeting Norwegian travellers (brought together by the prospect of beer, ever-alluring to both our peoples, from early days of mead-making and viking-travel, on doubt!)!

It would be interesting to find out when the Norwegians first started singing this song.  Might turn out to be one of those chicken/egg things, but I would be interested in finding out more. I tried searching the Norwegian title, and I only got 2 hits, neither of which gave any information.

This comment jogged my memory of a temperance poem I had previously posted, which turned out to be a parody of “John Anderson, My Jo.”  I decided to see what else I could dig up on this same poem, being it is Robert Burns’ birthday. Evidently, this poem was so popular, it was parodied quite a bit. Below is a sample of what I found:

From the Murder by Gaslight blog (link below)

Looking for a sausage vat picture for this first parody, I was surprised to find the above image actually took me to a blog  post about the murder referenced in the parody! Link: Louise Luetgert: The Sausage Vat Murder

Rather sick sense of humor, I think:

SAID IN FUN.

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When you and I first met
We loved each other well, John;
But not, already yet;
We had a little spat, John,
Not many months ago,
And you boiled me in a sausage vat,
John Anderson, my Jo.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Oct 21, 1897

SAID IN FUN.

John Anderson, my Jo John
When we again prepare
To kill the boar black pigs John,
That scent the perfumed air,
We’ll bribe our fellow men, John,
With cash before we go,
To haul them to the slaughter pen,
John Anderson, my Jo.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Nov 22, 1897

I saw the great regatta go
A half a mile from land;
The sons of Eli tried to row
Their boat to beat the band.
The oars sank deep, the men perspired,
I heard them puff and blow —
Too slow the pace, they lost the race,
John Anderson, my jo.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Jul 10, 1909

*****

Now, for a couple of advertisements:

The Ohio Democrat ( New Philadelphia, Ohio) Oct 18, 1888

SKIDOO!

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When last it was we met,
Our winter supply of Coal, John,
Hand not been purchased yet.
“It’s time you was skidooing, John,”
I hear all the wise people speak —
There should be something doing, John,
Then do it now — this week.

No.2 Chestnut . . . $5.75 the ton
UNION COAL CO. 119 Main St.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Jun 25, 1906

*****

A political parody:

John C. Calhoun (Image from http://www.historycooperative.org

JOHN C. CALHOUN MY JO.

A COMIC POLITICAL SONG.
Tune – “John Anderson my Jo.”

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, I’m sorry for your fate,
You’ve nullify’d the Tariff laws, you’ve nullify’d your State;
You’ve nullify’d your party, John, and principles, you know,
And now you’ve nullified yourself, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

Oh! John how could you look into the face of Henry Clay?
The glory of the Western World, and of the World away;
You call’d yourself his ‘master,’ John, but that can ne’er be so,
For he ‘would not own you for a slave,’ John C. Calhoun my Jo.

The Father of the Tariff, and patron of the Arts,
He seeks to build his country up in spite of foreign parts;
And Harrison will soon upset the little Van & Co.
And renovate the ship of State, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, ambition in despair
Once made you nullify the WHOLE, the HALF of it to share;
The ‘whole hog now you’ve gone,’ John, with Kendall, Blair & Co.’
But ‘you’ve got the wrong sow by the ear,’ John C. Calhoun my Jo.

American mechanics, John, will never sell their votes
For mint drops or for Treasury bills, or even British coats;
They want no English coaches, John, while servants they forego,
For their carriage is of Yankee stamp, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

Oh! John he is a slippery blade with whom you’ve got to deal,
He’ll pass between your clutches too, just like a living eel;
You think he’ll RECOMMEND you, John, but Van will ne’er do so,
For he wants the fishes for himself, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, if this you dare to doubt,
Go ask the LIVING SKELETON who deals his secrets out;
His favorites are marked, John, the mark you cannot toe,
And you’ll soon repent the bargain made, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

This is dirty business, John, go wash your little hands,
And never bow your knee again to cunning Van’s commands;
‘How are you off for soap,’ John, I cannot say I know,
But ‘your mother does not know you’re out’ John C. Calhoun my Jo.

The brave sons of the South, John, will never own you more,
And Benton’s Mint Drops will not save — you’re rotten to the core;
The people will no power, John, on such as you bestow,
And you’ve jump’d your final sumerset, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

Then better men, my Jo John our sad affairs will fix,
Republicans in principle, the Whigs of Seventy six;
The offices they’ll purge, John, Swartwouters all must go,
And Sycophantic fellows too, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

The farmer of North Bend, John, will plough the weeds away,
And the terror of Tecumseh then will gain another day;
America will flourish John, mechanics find employ,
And our merchants will rejoice indeed, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, when one term shall expire,
He’ll drop the reins of power and with dignity retire,
To look upon a smiling land, that he has rendered so,
And every Whig will cry AMEN, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

MIDFORD BARD.
Poet’s Garret, Baltimore, January, 1840.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Mar 7,  1840

Francis Scott Key

This last one is not a parody, but rather interesting, if Francis Scott Key actually penned these additional verses:

JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.

A Pipe Creek Man Awakens a Reminiscence of Francis Scott Key.

A correspondent of the Washington Evening Star writes: In your issue of Saturday you publish an added verse to Burns’ “John Anderson, My Jo,” written by a lady from Georgia.

Mr. Francis S. Key, the author of the “Star Spangled Banner,” wrote two additional verses to Burns’ poem, and not remembering having seen them published, I send them to you.

Mr. Key writes:

“There ought to be another —

John Anderson my Jo, John,
From that sleep again we’ll wake,
When another day’s fair light
On our opened eyes shall break.
And we’ll rise in youth and beauty
To that bright land to go,
Where life and love shall last for aye,
John Anderson, my Jo

OR

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
One day we’ll waken there,
Where a brighter morn than ever shone,
Our opened eyes shall cheer.
And in fresh youth and beauty
To that blest land we’ll go
Where we’ll live and love forever,
John Anderson, my Jo.”

Pipe Creek, October 13, 1842. B.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) May 21,  1885

Hallowe’en of Yore Ancestors

October 27, 2009

HALLOWEEN WILL BE HERE SOON, GET READY

Young People Will Celebrate While the Goblins and Spirits Hower About, Just as of Old.

Get ready, kids. It’s coming. A week from Saturday the goblins, witches, elves and jack-o-lanterns will come into their own for one brief night. All Hallows’ eve — the world belongs to them.

In the old, old days Hallowe’en belonged to the spirits of the Northland, to the spirits and elves of Druid days. There are no witches or fairies now, but Hallowe’en will be celebrated just the same.

Farmers are getting ready for the occasion and are getting their cabbage and pumpkins under cover and before the latter part of next week will have them securely locked in the houses and barns. Corn is also used to a certain extent in celebrating, while tick-tacks** are just as big a favorite as ever.

From Dictionary Encarta:

**2. U.S. something that taps as prank: a device operated from a distance to make a tapping sound on a window or door as a practical joke.

Great changes have taken place in celebrating Hallowe’en in the past decade. It used to be that a boy or girl did not think they were having a good time unless they would burst in a number of doors during the night with cabbage stocks or hang some neighbor’s wagon on the roof of the barn, so it would be hard to remove, while some even went so far as to put cows in the school room and other things in just as ridiculous places. The taking of a buggy or wagon and running away with it was most enjoyed, that is by the celebrators, but it was a trick not enjoyed by the owner. The building of fences across the public highway also afforded the builder lots of fun. People out late at night or those compelled to get out early in the morning always bumped into one of these fences and there was all kinds of trouble. Gates and porch steps were to be found for the next two weeks in unlooked for places — but that was the way they celebrated a good many years ago.

It would not be very healthy to celebrate in this manner now. There are too many police officers. Then if you would happen to get caught or your name learned later on, you stand a good chance of being arrested for malicious mischief. There are too many laws today to permit such carryings on. Of late years the proper way to celebrate Hallowe’en and have a good time is to attend a taffy-pulling. Of course jack-o-lanterns are still used and are a big favorite, but not to the extent they were a number of years ago. In later years the young folks dress up in masque costumes and attend their taffy pullings. Many of the games played when grandmother was a girl, such as ducking for apples, etc., are still in vogue and affords no end of amusement.

It is not known to what extent Mayor Harry Lusk will permit celebrators to go this year; but one thing is sure and that is that he will not stand for destruction of property, so the boys and girls who desire to keep out of the clutches of the law and escape spending a night in the ill-smelling cooler at city hall should confine their celebrating to innocent fun and not try to see how much property they can damage.

New Castle News (New Castle, Pennsylvania) Oct 23, 1908

The Good Old Candy Pull.

You kin talk about y’r op’rae y’r germans an’ ali sich,
Y’r afternoon receptions an’ them pleasures o’ the rich;
You kin feast upon y’r chol’lates an’ y’r creams an’ ices full.
But none o’ them is ekal to a good old candy pull.

For ther’ isn’t any perfume like the ‘lasses on the fire,
A bubblin’ an’ a dancin’ as it keeps a risin’ higher,
While the spoon goes stirrin’, stirrin’, till the  kittle’s even full;
No, I reely thin ther’s nothing’ like a good old candy pull.

It’s true we miss the music, an’ the ballroom’s crush an’ heat,
But ther isn’t any bitter that stays behind the sweet,
An’ I think the world’d be better, an’ its cup o’ joy more full,
If we only had more pleasures like the good old candy pull.

— BOSTON BULLETIN.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Mar 13, 1891

Hemp Seeds (Image from www.divavillage.com)

Hemp Seeds (Image from http://www.divavillage.com)

A Potent Incantation.

On All-Hallows eve there is one form of incantation which is known to be extremely, nay, terribly potent when all others have failed. You go out by yourself, taking a handful of hempseed with you. You get to a secluded place and begin to scatter the seed as you walk along the road. You say, “Hempseed, I sow thee; hempseed, I sow thee, he who is to be my true love, appear now and show thee.” And if you look furtively over your shoulder you will behold the desired apparition following you. — William Black in Harper’s.

Davenport Morning Tribune (Davenport, Iowa) Nov 5, 1890

bobbingapplescard

HALLOWE’EN CELEBRATIONS

Its Origin and Customs — How the Small Boy Came to Have a Part Therein.

Many Parties of Social Nature Held — Police Department Busily Entertained.

Hallowe’en or All Hallow’s Eve, the night of Oct. 31, that is the eve of All Saints’ Day, which is the first day of November, takes its origin from the conversion in the Seventh century of the Pantheon at Rome, into a Christian place of worship, and its dedication to the Virgin and all the martyrs.

It was first celebrated on the first of May, but the date was Subsequently changed to Nov. 1st, and under the designation of “Feast of All Saints,” set apart as a general commemoration in their honor, and as such retained by the Angelican and American Episcopal churches.

On this day it is a custom of Roman Catholic countries, and is still practiced in Louisiana, to visit the cemeteries for devotion or for laying floral tributes on the graves of relatives.

The “Hallowe’en” part of it, however, appears to have nothing churchly about it. It is more in keeping with the practices of pagan times or perhaps of medieval superstitions, which set apart the night for a universal walking abroad of spirits, both of the visible and invisible world. On this mystic evening it was believed that even the human spirit might detach itself from the body and wander abroad.

From the above it can be readily seen how members of the younger population have come to distort the customs of this celebration by performing mischievous pranks, dressing in most hideous costumes and working destruction in general to everything animate and inanimate, after the fashion of sprites, or worse than these, perhaps, demons. Here also we discover the origin of the pumpkin ghost or Jack ‘o lanter, the troops of wandering devils, etc.

Practically so far as recognized at all, as it is still in Great Britain and some of our states, where church usages and traditions survive, it is devoted to sports and practical jokes. Nuts and apples are in requisition, they being not only cracked and eaten, but furnish sport in the way of “ducking” and “bobbing” which often results in damp disaster at the bottom of the wash tub.

The fate of many a lad and lass is also often decided in the signs of the seeds and the kernels, as the renowned Burns put it:

“The old guidwife’s well hoardit ______ nits,
Are round and round devided,
And many lads and lassies’ fates
Are there that night decided.”

A number of parties were held last evening in commemoration of the event. The police department was also obliged to use its entire force and acumen to watch the mischievous sprites who were on the lookout to work destruction to anything and everything which happened to fall in their pathway.

Social Hallowe’en.

Among those who entertained in a social way were Miss Lulu Wolfe, Wisconsin street; Miss Anna Slagsvold, Wisconsin street; Miss Laura Aswumb, Garfield avenue; Rev. and Mrs. Arns, Vine street; and among others something unique in the way of hobo Hallowe’en amusement at the home of Mrs. David Drummond. To say the least, all of the events named above furnished much enjoyment to those who were in attendance, having a part in the quaint games and customs in accord with practices of olden times.

The Small Boy.

Hallowe’en with the small boy, was not so exciting up to midnight. Dr. Selbach’s buggy was carried with the Leader’s mail wagon. Windows were soaped, gates stolen, every upsetable, upset, a sidewalk in the Ninth ward torn up, with untold and various other depredations. This is all. No lives were lost. Hallowe’en is all over but the swearing.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Nov 2, 1906

THIS IS HALLOWE’EN.

Which Has Been Celebrated Through Centuries — The Prince of Mischief Abroad in the Land.

To-night is Hallowe’en and around it clusters more Old World superstitions than begirt the other 364 nights that go to make up the year.

The small boy knows it best as “cabbage night,” and to him it means a round of fun. He has been keeping track of it. He knows it comes with darkness and for days he has been keeping his optics on the cabbage heads in the back yards of his neighbors.

The small boy knows where all the cabbage in the neighborhood, for squares around, is kept, and as soon as night has stolen over the earth he will be out with his companions, carefully climbing over the back yard fences, and stealthfully approaching the mound where the cabbage is buried. It is no use to watch him, for if it is there he will have it if he has to stay up all night, and after he has it in his grasp he is off on his round of pranks.

The readers of THE SENTINEL know how he will put in the night. They were all young once and as they peruse this Hallowe’en article, memories of those old-time days, when they were out on the All Hallows Eve lark, will crowd in on them thick and fast, and when the “bump,” “bump” of the cabbage head comes against the door, they will say, “Oh, it’s boys. They are out for a little fun. Let them have it.”

Gates are carried off from their hinges, and the posts are ornamented with hideous, grinning faces, made of a grotesque pumpkin, hollowed out, and containing a lighted candle. Bonfires are built and potatoes, eggs and apple roasted on the hot coals. Door bells are mysteriously rung and the king of misrule and his retinue are abroad in the land.

But the Hallowe’en is not now what it once was. The boyish pranks of twenty, thirty and forty years ago (many of them) seem to be unknown to the boys of to-day and there isn’t one one hundredth part of the fun crowded into the night now as there was then. Many of the older readers of THE SENTINEL could tell the boys of to-day Hallowe’en stories that would “make their hair stand on end,” but it is best, perhaps, that those olden-time tricks (some of them mean and cruel in their nature) should be discontinued, and we will not tell more of them now for fear the boys will be tempted to repeat them to-night in Fort Wayne.

There used to be a time when the night was full of superstitions, and men, women and children believed that on All Hallows Eve disembodied spirits visited the earth again; that devils, witches and fairies were abroad; that supernatural influences existed everywhere, but these old-time superstitions passed away with the advent of railways, telegraph, and, most of all, with the enlightening influences of the newspapers, and now the night is mostly (among those who desire to celebrate it) given to amusements of a social nature, either at home or in some public hall. Even the boyish pranks grow to be less common, and bye and bye, perhaps, they will cease all together.

Hallowe’en, or more properly All Hallows Eve, is the night before All Saints’ day and comes on October 31st, being kept as a vigil by some churches for the religious ceremonies of the following day, November 1st, when honor is done in the sanctuaries to all the saints. This is its real signification now, and yet in many countries the old superstitions still prevail and we give a few of them.

In the north of England this is “Nutcrack-Night,” and everywhere nuts and apples are in demand for consumption or for divination. In Ireland the same customs exist as in the sister isle; the lads and lasses gather by the blazing fire of peat and bogwood; the hearth is cleanly swept and each pair of lovers put two nuts before the fire; if either jumps the party represented is sure to give the other the mitten.
Ducking for apples is another ceremony peculiar to Hallowe’en.

Apples are placed in a tub of water, and often coins, and the attempts to catch them in the mouth produce tremendous mirth. So. too, does the “snapapple cross”; apples and lighted candles are placed on the opposite ends of a wooden cross, suspended by a string, and the attempts to rescue an apple with the mouth is generally rewarded by catching the twirling candle.

Three plates, containing earth, water and a ring, are placed on the table, the fortune seeker is led blindfolded, and his selection dooms him to death, exile or marriage within the ensuing year. A somewhat similar form of divination exists in Scotland.

“Popping” is a custom as popular in America as in the old country, where it originated. One girl heats a shovel red hot. Two chestnuts are then named after two of the company, as Jennie and Jack. In a few minutes they begin to sputter, and when they pop with much noise and confusion it is judged by the method of popping how the love affair will terminate. If Jennie pops away it is surmised that it is meant as an invitation for Jack to follow and capture her, but if Jack pops he is not for her. If the two pop side by side or away together, it is the happiest of auguries. IF the pair of chestnuts burn up into a flame and consume together it foretells a happy married future.

Eating the apple — This first demands a walk through a long corridor, when, if the young lady does not see her lover, she must return backward, going to her room and eating the apple before a looking glass while she combs her hair. She will then see her future husband’s face over her shoulder.

Paring an apple in one long paring, throwing it over the shoulder and letting it fall is a favorite spell of the night. If it falls so as to resemble a letter, that will be the first letter of a coming lover’s name.

The Hallowe’en Mirror — This is always a moonlight night performance, as the spell is assisted by the spectral light of the moon. They young woman looking into the glass must munch an apple at the same time. As the moonbeams fall across the glass she will see a face beside her own, which will be that of the man she is to marry. This test is very trying one, and many cases have been known where a delicate girl has fainted from fright, her imagination supplying the expected face.

The Three Leggies — These are three bowls of water placed on the hearth, a custom prevalent in Scotland and referred to by Burns. One is filled with clear water, one with turbid water and one is empty. Whoever dips must be blindfolded and use the left hand only. If it is a maiden and she dips into the clear water she will marry a young man and be prosperous. If she, however, puts her hand in the turbid bowl her husband will be a widower, and she will have more or less trouble, but if she dips into the empty dish, never a husband will she have at all.

A Scottish superstition was: — The girl would take her ball of knitting worsted and at midnight, standing on the edge of an old lime kiln, would throw it down in the devil’s name, and commencing to wind up the end would say, “I wind, who holds?” when a voice was supposed to answer, “I hold.” Many fatal accidents from shock followed these incantations, caused probably by some of the lads who knew that such a visit would be made.

But when all the sports were finished, then came the crowning terror to the rustic mind — the journey home and the possibility of meeting the dreaded “Phooks,” the hairy, misshapen spirit steed that on this particular night was permitted to roam around and decoy wearied pedestrians to mount him.

Some of these sports may be repeated to night among our young folks and much merriement will ensue. All in all, with the repetition of these pranks and the parties, dances and night “raids” of the small boy Hallowe’en will not go unobserved in Fort Wayne.

all saints

To morrow will be All Saints day. As early as the fourth century the Greeks kept on the first Sunday after Pentecost the feast of all Martyrs and Saints, and there is still a sermon of St. John Chrysostom delivered on that day. The feast was introduced in the west by Pope Boniface IV. The feast was at first kept on the 13th of May, but the day was changed to the 1st of November by Gregory IV. This feast has been instituted by the church to honor all the saints who reign in heaven.

Next Sunday will be All Souls day. It is a solemn commemoration of and prayer for all the souls in purgatory. This feast is dept on the 2d day of November. This feast owes its origin to Odilo Abbot, of Clugny, who instituted this solemnity for all the monasteries of his order in 998.

Both days will be religiously observed by the Catholics in this city.

The forty hour devotions began at the Cathedral to-day at 9 o’clock. Father Ambrose, of Cincinnati, a Franciscan, preached in the forenoon and will be heard again this evening. To-morrow the principal services will be at 5, 7:30, 10 a.m., and in the evening at 7:30, closing with a sermon, procession and benediction on Sunday evening.

Fort Wayne Sentinel, The (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Oct 31, 1890

HALLOWE’EN [excerpt]

Three things seem to be wrapped up in Hallowe’en rites — silence, salt and apples! Salt and silence worked together, and for dire occasions. Hallowe’en, from time immemorial, seems to have been a special occasion for attempting to lift the veil and peer into the future, especially as regards one’s personal fortunes or the fate of one’s enemies.

For instance, many hundreds of years ago in northern Europe a man who put a spoonful of salt in his mouth, drank no water, and walked away in silence — you cannot imagine him talking much — to “a place where three crossroads met and sat thereon on a three-legged stool” was rewarded at midnight by hearing a supernatural voice announce the name of the neighbor, generally, his enemy, who would die within the year!

In many parts of Scotland to this day, the house-wife will empty a thimble of salt on every breakfast plate before going to bed on All Hallows Eve; and if in the morning the salt has fallen out of shape on any plate, it is believed that individual  might just as well get ready, as the big bell has tolled for him.

In other parts of northern Europe, the girl who eats a salt cake and goes to bed in silence, and without drinking water, will see her future husband in her dreams.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Oct 30, 1929

Helen Kinau Wilder: A “New Woman” in the Pacific Islands

August 2, 2009

Helen Wilder pic1 1897

A DISTINGUISHED MISS.

The Honolulu Heiress Who Wears a Humane Officer’s Badge.

Miss Helen Wilder, youngest daughter of Mrs. E.K. Wilder, the mistress of a large fortune and one of the most popular society girls in Honolulu, has been specially honored by the attorney general by receiving a commission as a humane officer. The badge of her office, a handsome silver plate, was pinned on her breast by Marshal Arthur M. Brown a few days ago, and Miss Wilder wears it with much pride.

Miss Wilder has the distinction of being the first woman in the Hawaiian Islands who has been appointed a humane officer. The honor was conferred upon her unsolicited by the attorney general in recognition of her frequent efforts to relieve dumb brutes and bring cruel masters to punishment. Miss Wilder is reputed to be the wealthiest heiress on the islands. She is a great favorite in society, and has a very wide circle of friends and acquaintances on the coast.
— San Francisco Chronicle.

Hornellsville Weekly Tribune (Hornellsville, New York) Apr 16, 1897

Helen Kinau Wilder pic horse gun 1899

SHE WEARS A STAR.

A NEW WOMAN IN PACIFIC ISLANDS.

She is One of Hawaii’s Finest — Helen Wilder Wears the Star of the Hawaiian Police Force and Wears it Very Creditably.

(Special Letter.)

Helen Wilder wears the star of the Hawaiian police on her breast. She is probably the only woman police officer in the world. She is wealthy, too, at that, the heiress of a vast Hawaiian estate, and prominent in Hawaiian society. She is simply a plain woman with plain ideas, no fuss or fizzle, believing herself on an equality with man, neither asking nor giving favors. Helen Wilder calls a spade a spade. She chooses to be called a policeman, disclaiming her right to the title of “special officer.” She does not even object to the sobriquet of “cop.” But then the things that Helen Wilder does object to are the very ones that are most dear to the heart feminine. She wouldn’t give a lei of sweet scented maili for all the gowns that Worth ever made. She doesn’t care a fig for dances teas or the dilly dallying of society. She snaps her fingers in the face of conventionality without so much as a “beg pardon.” She dons a short skirt, a shirt waist, a military hat and rides her horse with the daring of a vaquero, or she handles the reins with the dexterity of a pioneer stage driver; in a rowboat she can paddle as swiftly and as easily as a Kanaka fisherman. Wherever she is, whatever she may be doing, she carries a pair of handcuffs to snap on the wrists of the tormentor of children and animals. Above all, she is always Helen Wilder. Like no one else in dress, manner or speech, she can always be depended on to do the unexpected. Honolulu did elevate its eyebrows though when her engagement was announced to Frank Unger. ‘Twas strange, indeed, that she should choose this bon vivant, this light-hearted Bohemian, prince of good fellows. A beautiful cottage was built for them at the beach of the Waikiki.

But the house at the beach has never been occupied. Helen Wilder broke the engagement when the wedding day was almost at hand. Honolulu sighed in relief. “That was just like Helen Wilder.”

Then there came a dashing young officer who laid siege to her heart according to naval tactics. And when he sailed away on the seven seas from each port came a letter for Helen Wilder. But alas! the same mail would also bring a missive for one of the many Afong girls. And gossip said that the officer had plighted his troth a deux. And under its breath it whispered that he was addicted to French perfumes. So the second time Helen Wilder took the circlet of gold from her finger. Helen Wilder is not the girl to droop and pine and wear her heart on her sleeve. Instead she wears a five-pointed bit of silver on her hat and breast, and she is proud of this policeman’s star, for it gives her the power to stop abuses. The native policemen are very fond of this member of their force. On Christmas day she gave them a dinner in the police station. Only those on the “force” sat down to the feast, and many were the grateful thanks which the policemen heaped upon their sister member. The soldier lads who landed at Honolulu have likewise reason to be grateful to Helen Wilder, for right royally did she treat them. Her mother, “Aunt Lizzie,” as she is called, was not less hospitable. A funny story went the rounds, and none laughed heartier or told it more gleefully than Helen Wilder herself. Aunt Lizzie invited a number of the boys in blue to dine. Helen happened to be away. They are Aunt Lizzies _odies and listened to her stories, for which she is noted.

Then a youth asked, “Who is the funny looking girl who wears stars? She’s a freak!” The question made those who knew the truth see stars. Helen Wilder goes wherever her duty calls. If the checkrein of the swellest turnout in Honolulu is drawn too tight she commands the driver to stop and fasten it. Fear she has never felt. Collie, Jap, Kanaka or white man, she arrests them all, in spite of threats. Let the drivers overload the ‘buses, or the Waikiki tram cars pull out overloaded, and out will come her handcuffs. She will brook cruelty toward neither children nor animals. It was reported that the captain of a steamship that put into port at Honolulu had maltreated his children. Helen Wilder boarded the steamship and investigated the charges. She found that the captain for some slight offense had locked the children in a state room for several days, keeping them on bread and water. To the surprise and indignation of the protesting captain this young woman promptly marched him down the gangplank and straight to jail.

But arrived there, she was told that the captain, not being a resident, must be released. So the steamship put off for Victoria, the captain vowing vengeance. When he landed there he found a local society for the prevention of cruelty had been requested from Honolulu to take him in charge, and was met with a formal request to explain things. In this way Helen Wilder followed him up and endeavored to have him punished for breaking the law, as she claimed. Other women in other cities have been made special officers. But Honolulu claims that there never was a special officer like Helen Wilder. She wear her star constantly and she uses the power which it gives her constantly.

Helen Wilder is as much a part of Hawaii as is Mauna Loa. Visitors never fail to ask who she is. For with close-cropped hair and confidant stride, her soft hat and shining star, she never fails to attract attention. Hawaiian society, which is itself complex and odd, does not often frown upon her eccentricities.

They like her because she is bright and original, because her personality is as refreshing as it is peculiar. They recognize her clear-grained human worth. Men who are tired of the inane or the clinging vine act find in Helen Wilder a comrade who is interesting, amusing and altogether charming.

Daily Iowa State Press (Iowa City, Iowa) Apr 29, 1899

Helen  Wilder 1899 pic horse2

POLICEWOMAN WILDER

A Honolulu Heiress Who Has Her Own Way.

UPHOLDING THE HUMANE LAWS.

In Her Capacity as Police Officer She May Make Arrests Without Warrants, and Brutal Mule Drivers Must Curb Their Anger.

Helen Wilder the Hawaiian heiress, has just been given a judgement by a Honolulu Jury in a suit for damages brought again her by a man she had arrested for cruelty. The case was of unusual interest to Honolulu, because it determined the fact that Miss Wilder, in her capacity as a police officer, may make arrests without a warrant.

The suit was brought by Oloof Hollefson who drives a street car in Honolulu. One day Miss Wilder noticed that one of Hollefson’s mules was bleeding on the shoulder from a chafing collar. She compelled him to leave his car and passengers and drove him off in her carriage to the police station, where she had him booked for cruelty to animals.

There was a heated argument over the legality of the arrest, counsel for Hollefson claiming that as no warrant had been served the arrest was illegal, and therefore $5,000 was due for a damaged reputation and durance vile.

When the jury brought in a verdict in favor of Miss Wilder, she put on her soldier hat and sauntered out of the court room humming “My Honolulu Lady.”

Then Honolulu puckered its brow for a moment over a knotty little problem, ‘Who would have paid that $5,000 had the decision been otherwise? Would the government have been responsible or would Helen Wilder have been compelled to sign a check for that amount?’ However, in Hawaii ?et people do not worry long over useless conjectures.

Even if Miss Wilder had been forced to pay the money it would not have been such a dreadful calamity, for a girl who has $150,000 in her own right, besides “great expectations” can afford to pay for the privilege of arresting a man.

And if it had fallen on the government? Well it is worth $5,000 to have a policeman ?whose? an heiress.

…..[the rest of the article repeats text from other articles]

Fort Wayne News (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Apr 15, 1899

squiggle

The Only Policewoman.

Honolulu has a policewoman. Her name is Helen Wilder, she is 23 years old, and is a regularly appointed officer of the Hawaiian police force. She wears a soft felt hat, on which glitters the silver star that shows that she is a policewoman. She carries a revolver and is not afraid to use it. She has made several arrests unaided. Miss Wilder loves children and animals, and wherever she is, or whatever she may be doing, carries a pair of handcuffs, which she is quick to snap upon the wrists of the enemies of her small and lowly friends.

Daily Iowa State Press (Iowa City, Iowa) May 3, 1899

wedding-bells

The Honolulu Heiress a Bride.

San Francisco, June 5. — It has leaked out that Miss Helen Kinau Wilder, the Honolulu heiress, who has gained fame through her humane work in the Hawaiian islands and her eccentricities abroad, was secretly married on May 16 to Horace Joseph Craft, manager of the Pacific Cycle company at the Hawaiian capital. The wedding took place at midnight in the Honolulu Theological seminary, the officiating clergyman being the Rev. Jolin Nua, a native theological student. The bride went immediately to her home after the ceremony. On the following day she took passage on the steamship Australia for this city.

Naugatuck Daily News (Naugatuck, Connecticut) Jun 5, 1899

squiggle

Eccentric Bride.

In a little country cottage near San Francisco an eccentric young heiress is spending the queerest honeymoon in the world. Helen K. Wilder of Honolulu always declared that when she should get married she would spend her honeymoon alone, says the New York World. A few weeks ago she married H.J. Craft in Honolulu and told him he had given her the opportunity to carry out her wish. The next day she sailed alone to San Francisco. She is now waiting for the month to elapse before going back to take up her wifely duties in Hawaii.

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Jul 17, 1899

squiggle

This refers to her husband, that she divorced:

ELKS FOLLOW THE FLAG.

The Baby Elk Lodge in the Newly Acquired Hawaiis.

Tom Reed, esteemed leading knight of the local lodge of Elks, has received from Honolulu a group photograph of the latest lodge of Elks that has been instituted. The Elks cannot go outside of the United States, but now that the Hawaiian islands have been annexed there is a baby Elk lodge there, instituted on April 15 last.

In the group are two well known Butte Elks, who have removed to Honolulu. They are Horace J. Craft and Francis Brooks. The number of the Honolulu baby is 616.

The Anaconda Standard (Anaconda, Montana) Jun 23, 1901

squiggle

HELEN WILDER’S ROMANCE.

Writes my Hawaiian correspondent: “Like the scent of pressed roses recalling an old romance was the suit in court last week for the cancellation of a trust deed conveying to E.D. Tenney the property valued at something over $100,000. The deed was executed in 1897 by Miss Helen Wilder and was made in contemplation of marriage to Frank Unger of San Francisco, to whom she was then engaged.

The engagement was soon afterwards broken off, and Miss Wilder a couple of years later married Horace J. Craft, from whom she was afterwards divorced, though I understand they are still very good friends. Unger was quite a prominent figure in society on the coast in those days. He had traveled extensively, he had a pleasing musical skill, could tell good stories, and was altogether companionable.

Incidentally he had furnished two or three of the musical selections in the “Geisha Girl,” which was then in the height of its success. Helen Wilder was the daughter of the late S.G. Wilder and grand-daughter of Dr. Norman Judd, one of the early missionaries. Her father died, leaving a very comfortable fortune as fortunes were counted those days, the days before some of the sugar barons began paying taxes on incomes of a million yearly.

Helen was an athletic girl who rode and drove the best horses in Honolulu. It was her fondness for horses that led her to start a movement, the first in Honolulu, for the prevention of cruelty to animals. When she found that the native police showed neither enthusiasm or judgement in the matter of making arrests she secured a commission as a special policeman herself, and spent her time, or a good part of it for several years, in looking after animals that were being cruelly treated. The work she did in this line was of the most wholesome and effective sort, and its influence last to this day.”

THEY SUSPECTED UNGER.

“When she was on the witness stand the other day giving testimony in behalf of her petition for the revocation and cancellation of her deed of trust, she very frankly explained the reasons why it was made. She said that her family believed that Frank Unger’s affection for her was inspired largely by her wealth and yielding to their advice she had made the deed whereby only the income of the property was reserved for herself, the principal to go to any children she might have, or, if she died childless to be disposed of by will. The engagement was broken off soon after the deed was made, and she never married Unger, the consideration for the deed had failed and she therefore wanted it cancelled, so that she would again have the direct control of her property. After her divorce from Horace J. Craft she resumed her maiden name, went to California and bought a ranch near Watsonville. There she has lived ever since.”  — Town Talk.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Dec 8, 1906

gravecross

It appears her family’s suspicions were probably correct:

The Late Frank Unger

Bohemians gathered Monday on the sad mission of laying in the grave all that was mortal of Frank Unger. He was a strange and singular character — traveler, musician, wit, bon vivant, raconteur and good fellow. He was a man of the world in the fullest sense. Without considerable means and not following any occupation that brought in wealth, he lived like a prince. He was ever the companion of rich men and women, yet it never seemed in an unworthy sense. For more than thirty years he came and went, and no doubt he found congenial friends wherever he might chance to be — whether in his own land or at the ends of the earth. For many years he was the fidus Achates of Harry Gillig and wandered with him and Mrs. Gillig about the globe. He was as much at home in Paris as in San Francisco. He traveled around the world a number of times, the last time within a year as the guest of Raphael Weill, himself one of the most notable of Bohemians. And so Frank Unger went through life, getting more out of it than men generally do, counting his friends by legion, brightening existence for all with whom he came in contact, but coming at last at the age of 65 to that final scene which all must meet. He would have like it that way — with friends and companions with whom he was wont to gather when life was at its full, performing the last rites, saying the heartfelt thing, dropping a furtive tear into his grave.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Dec 26, 1915

Helen K. Wilder Passport Photo

Helen K. Wilder Passport Photo

Passport application: Click for larger image:

Passport Application 1918

Passport Application 1918

The letter that is attached to her application, explaining her reason for traveling to Russia is very interesting:

Helen K Wilder passHARRON letter1918

I am not sure if she ever made this trip because I cannot find her on the passenger lists and according to Britannica.com, Russia was in a state of unrest at the time:

During World War I Vladivostok was the chief Pacific entry port for military supplies and railway equipment sent to Russia from the United States.

After the outbreak of the Russian Revolution in 1917, Vladivostok was occupied in 1918 by foreign, mostly Japanese, troops, the last of whom were not withdrawn until 1922. The anti-revolutionary forces in Vladivostok promptly collapsed, and Soviet power was established in the region.

Samuel Gardner Wilder

Samuel Gardner Wilder

The following biography text images refer to Helen Wilder’s father,  and come from the book: LEOMINSTER MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL AND PICTURESQUE By William A. Emerson
LITHOTYPE PUBLISHING CO. Gardner, Mass. 1888: (Click for larger images)

Samuel G. Wilder Biography

Samuel G. Wilder Biography

SG WILDER 186SG WILDER187

I think it is rather interesting that Helen is not mentioned at all, but then some of the information doesn’t seem to be exactly correct, as it does not mention his son, Samuel Gardner Wilder, Jr., unless they just got his name wrong.

Gavel

Guardianship Over Man, 23, Is Sought

SAN FRANCISCO, Oct. 4. — The guardianship petition was filed in the superior court today on behalf of Miss Helen K. Wilder, of Watsonville, over the person and property of her nephew, Samuel Gardner Wilder, 23 years old, son of S.G. Wilder, a banker of Honolulu. The young man is at Lane hospital and is about to be removed to the Livermore sanitorium. It is declared that he is mentally and physically incompetent following illness in Hawaii. He was brought here by an uncle, A.L.C. Atkinson, who filed the formal petition yesterday in behalf of Miss Wilder.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Oct 4, 1921

Helen Kinau Wilder died Feb 4, 1954 in Santa Cruz County, California. I was not able to locate an obituary for her.

Baker-Howard Feud

July 20, 2009
Boys and men stand around George Baker's dead mule in front of Oneida Baptist Institute. The mule was killed when two men on opposite sides of the Baker-Howard feud clashed and opened fire. Charlie Roberts intended to shoot George Baker, but missed and shot George's mule instead. Bystanders are dressed for Commencement Day at the Oneida Institute in 1915.

Boys and men stand around George Baker's dead mule in front of Oneida Baptist Institute. The mule was killed when two men on opposite sides of the Baker-Howard feud clashed and opened fire. Charlie Roberts intended to shoot George Baker, but missed and shot George's mule instead. Bystanders are dressed for Commencement Day at the Oneida Institute in 1915.

Image from University of Louisville Digital Collections. *If the photograph date is correct, this must have been a different George Baker, maybe his son or some other relative.

KENTUCKY BARBARISM.

Barboursville, Ky., April 13. Five more murders resulted from the Baker-Howard feud. On Saturday George Baker was shot and killed by members of the Howard faction while on his way to town. On Sunday Al Baker and his brother went to Howard’s home, called the old man out and shot him to death, and then killed his wife and two children.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Apr 13, 1898

squiggle

Howard-Baker Feud Reopened.

BARBOURVILLE, Ky., June 4. — The Howard-Baker feud broke out again Thursday night, when Tom Baker shot and instantly killed Beverly White, a member of the Howard faction. They met on the highway several miles north of Manchester.

Naugatuck Daily News (Naugatuck, Connecticut) Jun 4, 1898

squiggle

SIX MEN KILLED.

PINEVILLE, Ky., June 4. — (By Associated Press) — Six men have been killed in the past ten days in the Howard-Baker feud. Judge Brown will not be allowed to hold court on Monday, and has sent to the governor for troops. The governor has none to send, and the civil authorities are powerless.

The Massillon Independent (Massillon, Ohio) Jun 6, 1898

squiggle

HOWARD-BAKER FEUD.
A Collision Is Feared Before Troops Can Come Upon the Scene.

MIDDLESBORO, Ky., June 10. — The news from the Howard-Baker feud in Clay county is startling. Howard’s party, 50 strong, has taken possession of the town of Manchester. The Baker following, consisting of 40 well armed men, have rendezvoused three miles from the town. Judge Brown is wholly unable to proceed with holding court. Although he expects troops sent by Governor Bradley it is feared the two parties will come into collision before the troops can arrive.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Jun 11, 1898

squiggle

Trouble in Kentucky.
(By Associated Press.)

MIDDLESBORO, (Ky.), June 10. — The news from the Howard-Baker feud in Clay county is startling. Howard’s party, fifty strong, has taken possession of the town of Manchester. The Baker following, consisting of forty well-armed men, have rendezvoused three miles from town. Judge Brown is wholly unable to proceed with holding court. Although he expects troops sent by Governor Bradley, it is feared the two parties will come into collision before the troops arrive.

A company of State troops arrived at Rowland, Clay county, to-day and left in vehicles for Manchester, the site of the Baker-Howard feud, where Judge Brown is attempting to hold court. Judge Brown is with the troops and has warned the Whites and Howards, who are holding the town, that if a demonstration is made against the troops serious trouble will follow. The Bakers, who are surrounding the town, broke into a warehouse and secured six barrels of whiskey last night and a messenger from the scene this morning says they are all drunk and will attempt to follow the troops into the place. The State troops are new volunteers and are green, having only received their uniforms and guns a week ago.

The Weekly Gazette And Stockman (Reno, Nevada) Jun 16, 1898

squiggle

THOMAS BAKER KILLED.
Principal in Kentucky Feud Is Shot from Ambush.

Thomas Baker, principal in the famous Howard-Baker feud, was shot from ambush and killed near his home at Winchester, Ky. Baker was alleged to have said there were four men in Clay County he was going to kill, after which he was willing to be hanged. Baker has a great number of friends, and the bloody war between his faction on one side and the Howards and Whites on the other is expected to result in other murders.

Carroll Sentinel (Carroll, Iowa) Jun 1, 1899

squiggle

Troops to End a Feud.

Chicago, June 1. — A special to The Tribune from Frankfort Ky., says: One hundred troops will be sent to Manchester, Clay county, to aid the civil authorities in capturing and bringing to trial the leaders in the Baker-Howard feud that has been carried on with bitterness for several years, resulting in the killing of nine or ten men. Two of the Baker faction are now in jail, and when the troops attempt to arrest the guilty Howards more bloodshed is expected.

The Evening Democrat (Warren, Pennsylvania) Jun 1, 1899

squiggle

Life in Kentucky.

Lexington, Ky., — June 3. — The Lexington battalion of the first regiment left this morning for Manchester, where the participants of the Baker-Howard feud will be tried. The troops are sent to prevent a possible outbreak during the trial.

All member of the battalion are dead shots. A gatling gun was also taken along. It is feared an attempt to ambush the troops will be made.

Daily Iowa State Press (Iowa City, Iowa) Jun 3, 1899

Tom Baker

Tom Baker

Image from Feuds of Clay Co., Ky on rootsweb. They authors provide a good amount of information that is worth reading.

Thomas Baker Killed.

Louisville, Ky., June 12. — The Howards and Whites have kept their word, and Thomas Baker, the recognized leader of the Baker faction in the Baker-Howard feud, is a dead man. He was shot through the body and instantly killed a moment after he had obtained a change of venue in his trial on the charge of killing one of the Howards. The killing was done in the Court House yard, with a battalion of militia all around at the time. The rifle shot was fired from a window in the house of Sheriff Beverly P. White, directly across the street from the Court House. White is one of the Howard faction.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jun 13, 1899

Manchester Courthouse - Clay County, Kentucky

Manchester Courthouse - Clay County, Kentucky

May Be More Bloodshed.

Manchester, Ky., June 13. — Sheriff White has been arrested and charged with the murder of Tom Baker, who was the leader of the Baker faction in the Baker-Howard feud. The sheriff is under the same military guard that was sent here in a vain endeavor to protect Baker’s life, but Col. Williams has taken every precaution to see that his new prisoner, if found guilty, shall pay the penalty without the premature fate of his alleged victim. Nevertheless, blood for blood is the cry of Baker’s relatives, and those who know them say they are sure to get it.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jun 14, 1899

squiggle

SHOT HIM DEAD.
Hidden Assassin at Manchester, Ky., Kills Tom Baker, Leader of a Famous Faction.

Manchester, Ky., June 12. — Tom Baker, the recognized leader of his faction, was shot and killed in the courthouse yard Saturday evening. The shooting was done after Special Judge A. King Cook had granted the Bakers a change of venue and the prisoners were to have been taken to Barbourville, bail having been refused. Manchester is wild with excitement. The Bakers and Howards have scores of friends in the country and there is no telling now where the trouble will end.

It has not been ascertained who fired the shot that killed Baker, but the consensus of opinion seems to be that it was fired from the house of Sheriff Beverly White, directly opposite the courthouse.

When the court adjourned Saturday afternoon Judge Cook had rendered his decision and there was no indication of trouble. The crowd was orderly and there was no visible excitement. At 5:30 o’clock the correspondent mounted his horse and set out for London. When about a hundred yards down the road from the courthouse the crack of a rifle was heard and a thin cloud of smoke hovered in the air behind the house of Sheriff White and the courthouse.

There was a sudden quiet. The lull was of short duration. A cry went up that Tom Baker was killed. It was true. Tom Baker lay dead flat on his back in front of the guardhouse tent. There was no need of sounding the assembly.

Instinctively the soldiers loomed up with fixed bayonets and charged across the street and surrounded the White residence. At the same time the gatling gun was hurried out and brought to bear on the place.

Meanwhile the wildest confusion prevailed. A rush was made for the courthouse, but the soldiers were already out and fearing a volley, the crowd hurriedly pushed down the hill again.

Up to the time the correspondent left Manchester no arrests had been made. It will be a difficult matter to ascertain who fired the shot, and the belief that it was aimed from the White residence is itself conjecture, though the position of the smoke seemed tell-tale evidence.

London Depot, Ky., June 12. — The Howards and their allies, the Whites, are in possession of the ground at Manchester in the Baker-Howard feud and few Bakers or Baker sympathizers are left to molest them. After Tom Baker, the head of the Baker faction, met his tragic death Saturday at the hands of an assassin whose deed stands alone the coldest-blooded in the history of Kentucky feudal wars, the state militia, under Col. Williams, with Wiley, Jim Dee and Al Baker, shorn of their arms, left over the mountain road for Barbourville, where there the charges of murdering Burch Storrs and Wilson Howard will be tried on a change of venue granted by Judge Cook.

Baker, when shot, was in his tent and within 75 feet of the assassin who fired from the porch of Sheriff Beverly White’s house, diagonally across the street. Baker told his wife that he was tired and would stand up for fresh air, and when he did so a bullet pierced his breast. Col. Williams sounded the assembly and the battalion of militia charged White’s house. They found the gates locked and the doors barred, but the boys in blue broke the locks and bars and found inside nothing save a stock of Winchester rifles.

Upon examination one of these guns was found to contain a freshly exploded cartridge, and it is this which sent the leaden missile through the heart of the fearless feud leader.

The people of this place and along the road to Manchester are wild with excitement. Sympathy for the Bakers is expressed on every side. The troops are powerless under Kentucky law to protect or execute the simplest duty, being subject to the orders of the county sheriff, who in this case is not in sympathy with their purpose. John G. White, of Winchester, Ky., a brother of Sheriff Beverly White, with two guards passed through here Sunday, going to the scene. It is stated that special Judge A. King Cook will order a special grand jury and attempt to indict the slayers of Tom Baker, but the fact that Judge Cook is not the regularly elected judge may delay this matter.

Barbourville, Ky., June 12. — Since the change of venue was granted at Manchester, Clay county, Saturday for the Baker murder trials to be held here in the Knox county courts, this city has been in a state of excitement. It will be impossible in this place, which has a population of between 2,000 and 3,000 inhabitants, with good officers, for such a tragedy to occur as that at the village of Manchester Saturday under the shadow of the court, when Tom Baker, the principal defendant, was shot dead while a prisoner of the court. As Tom Baker had killed William White, a brother of Sheriff Beverly White, of Clay county, and as the crowd saw the rifle fired from a window in the sheriff’s office at the time Baker fell dead into the arms of his wife it is thought that there may be another trial soon for a change of venue to this place.

Stevens Point Journal, The (Stevens Point, Wisconsin) Jun 17, 1899

squiggle

Another Victim of the Feud

London, Ky., June 16. — News was brought here late Thursday night to the effect James Howard, a member of the celebrated Baker-Howard feud, was shot from ambush and killed near Manchester Thursday evening. Howard belonged to the White and Howard’s faction of the Baker-Howard feud and has been suspected of having fired the shot last week that killed Tom Baker while under guard in the courthouse yard.

Stevens Point Journal, The (Stevens Point, Wisconsin) Jun 24, 1899

Column of Courthouse at Manchester. Holes and chips off are result of a feud fight in which 5 were killed and a number wounded.

Column of Courthouse at Manchester. Holes and chips off are result of a feud fight in which 5 were killed and a number wounded.

White Disperses Deputies.

Manchester, Ky., June 26. Sheriff B.P. White, Jr., is much disturbed over the turn of affairs in the Baker-Howard feud, because of the killing of Tom Baker while a prisoner in charge of the State troops and the determination of Gov. Bradley to call an extra session of the Legislature which will probably abolish the county of Clay. White had retained twenty-six men as deputy sheriffs, who usually did the fighting. These deputies have now been dispersed, it being the aim of the officials to quiet the town as much as possible until the danger is past.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jun 27, 1899

squiggle

A Cincinnati paper comments on a remarkable coincident in the famous Baker-Howard feud in Kentucky. On June 2 1859, 40 years ago, Gov. Owsley ordered out the state troops to quell the feud between the Baker and Howard factions. ON June 2, of this year, Gov. Bradley ordered out the state troops for the same purpose. Forty years is long enough for any family row, and it is hoped that the end is in sight.

Stevens Point Journal, The (Stevens Point, Wisconsin) Jul 8, 1899

squiggle

The Watterson idea of ending the Baker-Howard feud by letting the opposing families exterminate each other, is precisely the idea that some folks have of ending a street car strike. The public, however, has rights that both contestants are bound to inspect.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jul 25, 1899

squiggle

The Feud in Clay County Settled.

Frankfort, Ky., July 28. State Inspector and Examiner C.W. Lester, Gov. Bradley’s special agent sent to Clay county to make an investigation of the Howard-Baker feud, has returned and filed his report with the Governor. He states that the feud is at an end and says that the presence of troops is not necessary. Neither does he recommend an extra session.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Jul 29, 1899

squiggle

No Trial.

London, Ky., Feb. 8. — Owing to the absence of witnesses for the defense, the trial of James Howard for the murder of George Baker two years ago, or of the results of the Baker-Howard feud of Clay county, did not begin.

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Feb 8, 1900

William Goebel (Image from the Atlantic Constitution article)

These are the headlines from the full front page coverage in the  Jan 31, 1900 edition of the Atlantic Constitution:

GOEBEL DYING OF ASSASSIN’S SHOT — HE HAS BEEN DECLARED GOVERNOR IN TAYLOR’S STEAD

Climax of a Dark, Well Laid Plot Stirs Kentucky to Its Very Center.

PROBABLY FATAL SHOT FIRED OPPOSITE THE CAPITOL

Senator Goebel Was on His Way to Senate Chamber in Company with Colonel Jack Chinn. Taylor Expresses His Regrets.

“They have got me this time,” said Mr. Goebel. “I guess they have killed me.”

PHYSICIANS ENTERTAIN NO HOPE

MARTIAL LAW WILL PREVAIL IN STATE OF KENTUCKY FROM SIX O’CLOCK THIS MORNING SO SAYS DECREE

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Jan 31, 1900

squiggle

JIM HOWARD TO HANG.

Convicted at Frankfort of the Murder of William Goebel.

WEPT WHEN TAKEN BACK TO JAIL

Howard and His Friends De—– Witnesses Who, It is Charged, Were in Goebel Conspiracy and Who Gave Evidence to Save Themselves.

Frankfort, Ky., Sept. 27. — James B. Howard, who has been on trial for the past ten days charged with being a principal in the assassination of William Goebel, was found guilty yesterday, the jury fixing his punishment at death.

The fact that the jury had deliberated all of Tuesday afternoon without reaching a verdict led to the belief that it was hopelessly divided, and this fact made the verdict shocking to Howard and those who hoped for his ultimate acquittal.

Howard did not lose his composure when the verdict calling for the extreme penalty of the law was read in the crowded court room. He glanced at his attorneys and smiled, but said nothing. After the jury had been discharged Howard was taken back to the jail, and here for the first time he betrayed emotion. He called for a pen and paper and wrote a ling letter to his wife, during which tears coursed down his cheeks. He was joined later by his attorneys, who spent a good part of the day in conference with him in regard to the motion for a new trial, which will be filed today, and other matters in connection with the case.

W.H. Culton, who is under indictment as an accessory to the Goebel murder and who gave damaging evidence against both Howard and Caleb Powers, was released on bail yesterday afternoon and his case was continued until the January term. His bond was fixed at $10,000, and his brother-in-law, E.E. Hogg, of Owsley county, and J.F. Halcombe and John Johnson, of Jackson county, became his sureties.

Howard and his friends are very bitter in their denunciation of witnesses, who, it is charged, were in the conspiracy to murder Goebel, and who have since been manufacturing testimony against others in order to obtain immunity for themselves.

Howard was represented by ex-Congressman W.C. Owens, of Georgetown, and Carl Little of Manchester. The prosecution was represented by Acting Commonwealth Attorney Williams, T.C. Campbell, of Cincinnati, and H.E. Golden of Barboursville.

“Jim” Howard as he is commonly known in the mountains, is a strikingly handsome man, 44 years of age, and would be one of the last to be pointed out by a stranger as the man on trial. He had the record, however, of being the leader of the Howard-White faction in the Baker-Howard feud in Clay county, in which numerous lives were taken.

He had killed George Baker, and was suspected of the assassination of Tom Baker, who was killed after the same fashion as the Goebel murder, and Howard’s friends believe that these facts had very much to do with the making of the verdict sentencing him to the gallows.

The trial of Henry E. Youtsey, of Newport, will be called next at Georgetown next Monday.

The Tyrone Daily Herald (Tyrone, PA) Sep 27, 1900

squiggle

Two Dead and Four Wounded.

Lexington, Ky., Sept. 6. — One of the bloodiest encounters in the history of Kentucky feuds took place on Saxtons creek, in Clay county, and as a result two men are dead and four dangerously wounded. The fight occurred between the Griffin and Philpott factions, the former being allies of the Howards while the Philpotts were identified with the Baker faction in the famous Howard-Baker feud of three years ago.

The Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Sep 6, 1904

scales of justice

HOWARD BEGINS SENTENCE.
Life Imprisonment for the Murder of William Goebel.

(Bulletine Press Association.)

Frankfort, Ky., Feb. 2. — James Howard, convicted of the murder of William Goebel, arrived at the Frankfort penitentiary today to spend the rest of his life there, unless some unexpected turn of fortune liberates him. He is one of the most interesting characters that ever crossed the threshold of the penitentiary and his arrival caused considerable stir among the people of this city in general and the prison officials in particular. After spending nearly six years in jail, standing three trials and fighting his case through the supreme court, Howard was defeated in his struggle for liberty and the supreme court confirmed the judgement of the Kentucky courts. Howard never lost his nerve for a single moment. He was as cheerful on his way to the penitentiary and upon his arrival as he was on the first day of his arrest and said he was confident that he would eventually be vindicated and liberated.

In many ways Howard is the most picturesque figure of the Goebel murder cases. The commonwealth represented him as the typical mountain feud fighter and dead shot who went to Frankfort to kill Goebel in return for a pardon for having killed George Baker in a feud. Personally Howard does not fill the idea of such a person at all. He would never have been taken for a desperate man from the mountains. He is handsome and of distinguished appearance, of fine physique and unusually graceful, with easy manners. He looks like a man of fine intellect and a student. Indeed, he has been a student for five years, as during his imprisonment he has devoted his time to perfecting himself in the law.

Howard was born in Clay county forty years ago. His father was a school teacher. Howard lived in the mountains all his life and early became an expert shot, like all Kentucky mountaineers. He was first a deputy sheriff of Clay county, then school teacher, lawyer, general storekeeper in the government revenue service and finally assessor of Clay county, which he held when he became involved in the Goebel trouble.

Howard is a victim of a Kentucky feud, whatever were the circumstances of the killing of Goebel. He was in Frankfort the day Goebel was shot, trying to procure a pardon for killing George Baker from W.S. Taylor, then governor of Kentucky. The prosecution maintained that he was to get the pardon for killing Goebel. Howard has maintained that in this seeming connection he was a victim of circumstances. The Baker-Howard feud broke out in 1897. The Bakers one day ambushed Jim Howard’s father and two brothers, killing the brothers and desperately wounding the father.

Jim Howard, as soon as he heard of it, mounted his horse and rode to the scene. He claims the Bakers tried to ambush him and that he escaped by using his horse as a shield. In the encounter he shot George Baker to death.

Howard was indicted for the murder of Goebel in April, 1900. He was then in Clay county, where he might have remained indefinitely, as the mountaineers are Republicans and would have afforded him protection against an army. But in the month of May Howard went to Frankfort and surrendered. His first trial resulted in a sentence of death, his second of life imprisonment, both being reversed. The third verdict was life imprisonment and was sustained by the supreme court.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Feb 2, 1906

*****

This site has newspaper article images covering a variety of items, including this feud and others.

Here is some additional information about the William Goebel assassination and his rival, Governor Taylor.

Coughing up a Confederate Ball of Cast-Iron

February 17, 2009
William J. Bolton

William J. Bolton

This first article I found after the one that follows about General Bolton coughing up the Confederate bullet. I found it interesting in that it seems the Democrats used similar campaign tactics in this past current election as were used back in 1880 (finding so-called Republicans who were “in the bag” for their candidate).

MONTGOMERY COUNTY HANCOCK MEN. —

Montgomery county is getting a good deal of newspaper notoriety because it is the birthplace of Hancock, and one or two of its leading Republican citizens have declared their intention to vote for the Democratic nominee for President. The West Chester Village Record strikes at the matter in this manner: At the same time that it is ludicrous, and therefore, somewhat entertaining, the persistency of the discouraged Hancock press in trying to find recruits among the Republicans of Montgomery county becomes rather tiresome. The fact that there are not or [of?] any consequence has been perfectly demonstrated for some time, but the Philadelphia Times, after having made several efforts, sent a reporter up to Norristown, a few days ago, to attempt something heroic. He was determined, probably, to bring back a bagful of names, if he had to copy them off tomb-stones. The result was that he came in with four names and lots of padding. Among the four, of course, were Dr. Read and George Bultock, who must be getting somewhat fatigued by this time at their perpetual elevation on Democratic poles, as captives from the Republicans, and the other two were General W.J. Bolton and Mr. B.E. Chain.

Winfield S. Hancock

Winfield S. Hancock

It now proves that General Bolton is not for Hancock after all, and he publishes a vigorous letter saying so; while Mr. Chain, though a loyal man during the war, has always been a Democrat, and his support of Hancock was, of course, to be expected. It must be remarked that the Times, in printing without any revision General Bolton’s earnest letter defining his position, makes a palpable mistake. It looks odd, of course, and so would the letters of most men without revision by the editor and care by the proof reader. But the force and clearness of the missive are not obscured; it is easily understood, and its distinct declaration that the writer is not to be caught in a Democratic trap, even with a Union General as bait, will not be misapprehended. We suggest, with much respect, to our esteemed contemporary, that if General Bolton had written to it, saying that he was for Hancock, pains would have been taken to put his letter in first-rate order for the compositor’s hands, and that such a discrimination tells as much as a whole chapter of confession.

General Bolton had few advantages of education, but he was a brave soldier, and sustained terrible wounds at Antietam; and if he does not write a perfectly-constructed and exactly-punctuated letter, he makes one that goes to the front — as his leadership did in battle eighteen years ago. Had he voted for Hancock, we should not have assailed him; as he votes, however, with the party that sustained the Union armies, we all the more rejoice at his sound sense. But it is not about time to admit that the Hancock recruits in Montgomery county are not forthcoming?

James A. Garfield

James A. Garfield

Even the General’s first cousins, Republicans all their lives, will vote for Garfield, and the county is as unshaken by the Cincinnati nomination as if any other man had been chosen to carry the Solid South’s banner.

The Bucks County Gazette (Bristol, Pennsylvania) Aug 12, 1880

Antietam

Antietam

After Seventeen Years.
[Special Dispatch to the Cincinnati Gazette.]

NORRISTOWN, May 22. — General Wm. Bolton was yesterday relieved of a Confederate bullet in his neck, which has been a source of pain for seventeen years past. While Colonel of the Fifty-first Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers, and awaiting orders on a mound at the time of the famous mine explosion at Petersburg, July 30, 1864, a Confederate canister shell exploded near him and a small bullet entered the lower right jaw at the very point where he had received a bullet wound some years previous at the battle of Antietam. Forty distinct incisions were made a few weeks later, but without success. Since then General Bolton has felt pain and oppression in his neck, especially during damp weather. Yesterday he had occasion to stoop while attending to a customer in his store, and was immediately taken with a violent fit of coughing. Placing his hand instinctively over his mouth, something dropped into his hand. On removing the blood and mucous covering  of the object he found it to be the painful little ball of Confederate cast-iron. It was covered with rust, weighed 273 grains Troy, and the surface was covered with sharp ridges.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) May 27, 1881

General Bolton of Norristown, carries a novel charm on his watch chain. It is the bullet which he received in the war and which he coughed up a short time ago.

Chester Daily Times (Chester, Pennsylvania) Jun 20, 1881

squiggle37

DEATH OF GEN. W.J. BOLTON.

Member of Vicksburg and Antietam Battlefield Commissions.

Philadelphia Aug. 2 — Brig Gen William J Bolton died to-day of heart failure, at the age of seventy-four years. Gen Bolton served through the civil war in the Fifty-first Pennsylvania Volunteers first as captain of a company and finally as colonel of the regiment, and was brevetted brigadier general. He was wounded at Antietam and at Petersburg. Gen Bolton was a member of the Vicksburg and Antietam battlefield commissions.

Washington Post, The (Washington, D.C.) Aug 3, 1906