Cardiff Giant To Be Exhibited Again

1900

THE BIG FAKE

Cardiff Giant is to be Placed on Exhibition Again

History of the Famous Fake From Fort Dodge.

P. T. Barnum Once Offered Sixty Thousand Dollars for It

Dubuque, Jan. 1. — All the older residents of Webster county and the country in general are on familiar terms with the history of the celebrated Cardiff Giant, that made a fortune for its owners in a few weeks and startled the whole scientific world. Had it not been for the shrewdness of Prof. Marsh of Yale, who refused to be gulled into the commonly accepted belief as to the genuineness of the image the public might have been humbugged indefinitely and the coffers of the owners of the Giant filled to overflowing.

The true birth of the Cardiff Giant was in the brain of George Hull, a Connecticut Yankee, who had the huge block of stone mined near Fort Dodge and transported with infinite difficulty to Boone, where it was shipped to Chicago, where the giant was chiseled out and treated with the proper acids to give the discoloration of age. It was then shipped to Union, New York, and, reshipped to Cortland, and thence carried during the night to the farm of "Stubb" Newell, in Cardiff, and duly buried by moonlight. That was in 1868.

A year later Newell "happened" to be digging a well and "much to his surprise" came across a strange image. The news spread about the unearthing of a fossil man of gigantic stature and thousands of people were soon flocking to see the "discovery." Over seven thousand dollars were made before it was removed from the hole where it was buried. It was then placed on exhibition and shipped about the country, no one daring to doubt its genuineness. Finally "Tamus" became so popular that P. T. Barnum offered sixty thousand dollars for his services for three months, and thereupon a number of other pieces of stone about the country were "discovered" and were claimed to be "original Tamuses." It is even now said that the giant of the world's fair was not the original "Tamus, God of Gods." Thousands thought that they were gazing on the biggest humbug on earth, when they were told that Tamus was the original Cardiff Giant. It is said that all this while the great original was slumbering peacefully in the freight office of the New York Central at Syracuse.

By some odd way the stone found its way to Syracuse, was stored away in the freight office and relic hunters left him unmolested. The road kept a bill on file in its archives for freight due from someone, who could not be found.

And now, it is said, after his retirement of fifteen to twenty years, the Cardiff Giant, dug from the gypsum beds of Fort Dodge, is to be again placed on exhibition, this time advertised as the biggest fake of the century.

—Waterloo Semi Weekly Courier, Waterloo, Iowa, Jan. 2, 1900, p. 1.

An Old Man's Leap to Death — A Thrilling Suicide

1878

An Old Man's Leap to Death

A thrilling suicide took place one forenoon recently at St. Louis, an unhappy mortal leaping from the railing of the great bridge to the water, 110 feet below, meeting instant death.

A few moments previous to the occurrence the man started across from the eastern shore, leaving a letter in the hands of the ticket-seller on the other side addressed to a friend in East St. Louis, in which he deplored the circumstances which led to the suicide, and gave directions to be made of the few effects he left behind.

After leaving the ticket office on the other side, he pursued his way to the center span of the bridge, and one of the watchmen on the bridge saw him looking down into the swift current below with an abstracted air, as though undecided what course to pursue. But the watchman, never dreaming that he contemplated suicide, paid no special attention to him. Suddenly he divested himself of his outer apparel, coat and vest, and hastily climbing over the railing, he cast one imploring look upward, his lips moving as if in prayer, and then made the fatal leap into eternity.

Before the watchman, who was hastening toward him, could do anything to prevent the terrible fate that awaited the poor fellow, his body, as he made the frightful leap, was seen shooting through the air, and finally it was lost to sight beneath the muddy waters. One of the ferry-boats was crossing at the time, and the pilot took the boat near to the post where the man had alighted, but the body had sunk from view.

The bridge watchman found the coat and vest of the suicide near the spot from which he jumped, and took them, together with a pine stick which the suicide had carried, to the Third district station, where, upon examining the pockets, a letter was found addressed to Nixon or Dixon, the initials torn off, by M. O. Brown, dealer in tobacco and cigars, at Pleasant Hills, Illinois.

A few hours after the tragic act, the body was found 400 yards below the bridge. It was then ascertained that the suicide was an old man sixty years of age, named George Hickson, who has lived some time in East St. Louis, and that he had resolved upon self-destruction on account of a domestic difficulty with his son-in-law, John Girard. Hickson traveled with Barnum's circus a long time, exhibiting his son, a noted dwarf.

Famous Missouri Parrot Dies At 52

Was a Wise Old Bird and a Great Talker.

Could Carry on a Conversation With Herself -- Cyclones Her Only Terror.

WEST PLAINS, Mo., May 20 -- "How firm a foundation, ye Saints of the Lord" ----

The shrill voice of "Polly" Langston, singing her favorite hymn while perched on the rail of the front porch of the home of Mrs. T. J. Langston, will be heard no more, for "Polly," Missouri's most famous parrot, is dead. And in the yard where "Polly" was wont to strut before strangers and play with the children, a grave has been dug and "Polly" laid to rest.

"Polly" died at the age of 52, after a very strenuous career. Born in Cuba, she swore in excellent Spanish at the age of 3. Taken to New Orleans, she attracted the attention of Dr. Thomas Bradford, Mrs. Langston's father, who was killed in the Marshfield, Mo., cyclone in 1880.

Taught to Pray and Sing.
When "Polly" was in her teens she was taught to pray and sing. Her favorite hymn was, "How Firm a Foundation," and she could sing several stanzas. But persons not in the family taught "Polly" to swear equally well. One night Dr. and Mrs. Bradford took her to a Methodist camp meeting. When the minister began "Polly" interrupted.

"Preacher, preacher! Pray for that ornery ------" and "Polly" named a prominent citizen. It almost broke up the meeting.

On another occasion, when a prayer meeting was held in the Bradford home, "Polly," overcome by the emotion of a sister, broke into prayer, and concluded with a volley of oaths in English and Spanish.

In the late '70s, the Barnum and Bailey circus visited Marshfield. "Polly," on the porch, volubly cussed the passing performers, roustabouts, animals and canvass men. P. T. Barnum was attracted and tried to purchase her.

"Do you think we'd sell one of our children?" Mrs. Bradford demanded.

Polly Survives a Tornado.
The Bradford home was demolished by a tornado in 1880. Rescuers, removing the dead and injured from the ruins of homes, heard a voice wailing, "Mamma, oh, mamma."

Thinking it was a child, they dug into the ruins of the Bradford home. They found "Polly" near the unconscious form of Mrs. Bradford. The doctor was dead.

Mrs. Bradford recovered, but her son died of his injuries. The pitiful and almost constant calling of "Polly" for "Pa" and "Buddie" caused Mrs. Bradford to send the bird to a married daughter, of this city.

Could Imitate Women's Small Talk.
"Polly" always attended the meeting of the Ladies' Aid and W. C. T. U. in the Langston home. She remembered the small talk on such occasions and one of her favorite pastimes was to carry on a conversation with herself.

"Good-by, Mrs. Smith," she would say.

"I had such a pleasant time."

"The cream was excellent."

"Do come again."

"Yes, thank you."

"Polly's" experiences in the tornado made her wary of storms, and with darkening skies she would hurry into the house. At the first peal of thunder she would cry, "Cyclone! Cyclone!" and seek the darkness of a closet.

--The Saturday Blade, Chicago, May 22, 1920, page 7.


Comment: The following article is from almost a year later, and in it Polly is 53 years old at the time of her death, not 52.

Polly Remembered Cyclone.

A parrot, named Polly Langston, died recently at the age of fifty-three. A native of Missouri, Polly was a feathered prodigy whose remarkable talents included many vocal and linguistic accomplishments. She could sing and talk in English as well as Spanish, her mother tongue; pray and sing several of the old familiar hymns, which she had picked up at church and social gatherings, besides having a wide repertory of conversational "small talk." At one time, when the circus came to her local town, and Polly had poured forth her sage salutations to the passing paraders, the attention of the late P. T. Barnum was attracted to her and a large cash offer was made for her, but her owner could not be induced to part with her. She remembered to her passing hour an event of her early life when a cyclone wrecked the town and brought death to scores of the inhabitants. Polly survived by a miracle but for more than 40 years afterwards whenever the dark clouds gathered she became so frantic with fear that it was necessary to put her where she would escape the lightning's flash and the roar of thunder.

--The Indiana Progress, Indiana, Pennsylvania, April 27, 1921, page 4.