Woman Drinks Three Poisons

1920

Is Then Rescued From River and Will Probably Live.

DIXON, Illinois. — Mrs. Sutherland of Oregon, widowed mother of three small children, attempted suicide by drinking the contents of three bottles of different poisons and then leaped into Rock River. Rescue from the river was effected quickly and it is believed she will recover.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Aug. 7, 1920, p. 4.

Airplane Is Stolen, Then, Given Up by Two Flying Burglars

1920

The first airplane theft in Chicago has occurred at Checkerboard Field.

The field hangars are not extensively guarded. So there was no interference to the two men who arrived at the flying field at daybreak and opened a hangar where a Standard plane was housed.

The pair trundled the plane around so that its nose pointed into the wind. Evidently both understood flying. One climbed into the pilot's seat, while the other turned the propeller and primed the motor.

Then at the shout of "contact" the switch was on and the blades spun into action.

The man who had cranked got into the forward cockpit and with a roar the Standard sped across the ground and skimmed into the air.

Two or three sleepy mechanics who had watched the take-off suddenly realized what was taking place. A telephone call was put in for officials of the field.

An hour afterward several ships had taken the air and from extreme altitudes the pilots were searching with glasses for the stolen plane.

But later in the day the missing machine was found. The would-be thieves had been forced to land four miles from Checkerboard Field. The men had stripped the plane of instruments, valued at several hundred dollars.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Aug. 7, 1920, p. 1.

"Poor and Old and Only in Way," Song of Music Master Was Prophecy

1920

Years ago Carl Raymond, the old music master of Chicago, wrote a song by this name:

"I'm Poor and Old, and Only in the Way."

Today Raymond is poor and old and he says he's only in the way. His home is wherever he hangs his hat. He has had riches and fame; now he has but memories. Sometimes he plays the piano in a little restaurant on a Chicago avenue.

Just now he's in the county hospital — broke and friendless. Weakly reclining on a hospital bed, he repeated words from one of his songs:

As we walk down the street,
How, how often do we meet
Some poor old man whose life is naught but woes;
And with age his form is bent,
In his pockets not a cent,
And for shelter he does not know where to go.
With relations by the score
Who turn him from their door
And, sneering, in the street just pass him by;
If you ask why 'tis done,
He'll answer you and say:
"I'm poor and old and only in the way."

As the old fellow's voice died away he said sadly: "That's my life in a nutshell. I never thought when I wrote those words that some day I would apply them to myself."

Raymond was born eighty-one years ago in the shadow of Bunker Hill monument, the son of a banker. At 16 he enlisted in the Mexican War. After peace was declared he became an intermittent correspondent for the New York Herald. Then came the Civil War and he joined the colors again. In 1857 he came to Chicago. All this time he was writing songs — hundreds of them, including "Just One Girl," "There Are No Friends but the Old Friends" and "Passing Away Beyond the Clouds."

"But now I'm thru," he said sadly. "You see, I'm poor and old and only in the way."

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Aug. 7, 1920, p. 1.

Killed in Ensilage Cutter.

1916

DANVILLE, Illinois — Charles Kenton, a farmer of Chrisman, south of here, was instantly killed when he fell into an ensilage cutter. He was 60 years old.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 3.

Not Yet Well Trained

1916

POINT ISABEL, Texas — Gen. James Parker, commander of the Brownsville district, takes issue with those agitating the return of the Illinois troops, asserting that the training of the Federalized Guardsmen in the Rio Grande Valley is only half completed.

"Should the troops under instruction here go home now, I would feel that they had only half completed their work, that they left it undone, unfinished," he said. "In the United States Army it takes three months to train a recruit. A large portion of the National Guard were no better than recruits. Their training has been badly handicapped by storms, and by all the necessities involved in the preparation of camps in a wild country.

"They came here hoping to become fit for war. It will require some weeks of training before they can do so. They have still much work before becoming acquainted with the details of field service, with the proper action of men when in camp and in battle. This they can learn here; they cannot learn it at home. Training in field exercises and in combat exercises is important. It includes instruction in scouting, reconnoitering, outpost duty, advance and rear guard duty, patrol duty, in the use of cover on the field of battle, in the proper method of advancing when attacking an enemy's position, which varies always according to the terrain, and in fire discipline. These things can be learned in time of peace. If not learned in time of peace they must be learned in war and men will be killed unnecessarily.

"The men are hardened now and can stand long marches, and their time can be employed to the best advantage in learning the real art of war. A few weeks more and this will have been accomplished.

"Again, a good soldier does not wish to go home until this matter on the border has been settled, until the Government has no longer any use for his services."

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 3.

Vags Are Plentiful

1916

The city authorities should insist that vagrants cease their begging from house to house. Housewives should refuse to feed men at this time of the year who refuse to do small jobs about the home. There is plenty of garden spading, rug cleaning and general cleaning up work about the house that would give the man who really wants work sufficient work for a meal.

The facts are, however, that the average beggar will not work when asked to do so. Two such shiftless fellows appeared one after another the other Monday at a home where the housewife was hard at work. They were told they would be fed if they beat a rug. One of them said he would and disappeared after looking at the rug. He said he only wanted a few potatoes anyway and he didn't feel like working until he saw his partner. He never came back. His partner appeared a few minutes later and said he didn't want to work. It made him tired. — Murphysboro Independent, Illinois, March or April 1916.

Fleas! Lorda'Mighty! Some Millions of Them

1909

CROWD A FAMILY OUT OF A CHICAGO FLAT

Man Picks 110 Off His Body Before They Could Get Away — Breaks His Lease and Moves, Then Landlady Sues Him for Rent He Failed to Pay, and There'll Be Some Doings in Court

The wicked flea in battalions has so seriously inconvenienced the family of A. S. Mitchell, treasurer of the Consolidated Casualty Company, that Mr. Mitchell, the fleas, Mr. Mitchell's landlady, Mrs. Frank L. Smith of Chicago. and Mr. Mitchell's lease have gone to the mat about it.

Mr. Mitchell declares that one bright, warm morning last August he plucked from his person fleas to the number of 110. Forty-five of the agile ramblers Mr. Mitchell discovered on his immaculately groomed and perfectly tailored person after he had dressed for the street and was about to depart for his office. In consternation he took a freshly laundered sheet, spread it on the kitchen floor, carefully disrobed and separated the remaining forty-five fleas from his apparel.

Mrs. Smith when asked about this expressed wonder that Mr. Mitchell could catch so many fleas all at once, and also how he had managed to count them without a previous capture, but Mitchell avers there were so many thousands that even he could catch the number named ere they could escape.

The Mitchell family leased from Hopkins & Luther, agents for Mrs. Smith, a four room flat at 1425 East Sixty-third place, at a rental of $57.50 a month. Oct. 1 the lease expired, and Aug. 28 the Mitchell family is said to have left, leaving the September rent unpaid. Mr. Michell claims he did this merely to fulfill his threat made months previous that he would move unless the landlady or her agents did something to exterminate the fleas.

The agents retorted by filing suit against Mitchell in the first district court for $57.50, the amount of the unpaid September rent; Mrs. Smith, it is alleged, says she stands ready to expend $5,000 in order to force Mr. Mitchell to pay that one month's rent. Mr. Mitchell is equally emphatic in his assertion that if necessary he will pay out $15,000 in order to fight Mrs. Smith.

Mr. Mitchell says that when he returned home at night, instead of enjoying his evening paper in peace and quiet, he had to get up and chase fleas. All night long the wicked flea pursued, he alleges, and sleep was a nightmare. Breakfast, he claims, was but a mockery, thanks to the fleas. Promises to eradicate the pest were plentiful as the pest itself, according to Mr. Mitchell.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Oct. 9, 1909.

Chicago Chief's Automobile Ran Amuck

1910

CHICAGO. — An exhibition that appeared to be a cross between an imitation of a bucking broncho and a runaway train was given by Assistant Chief of Police Schuettler's red touring car in front of the temporary city hall on Randolph street one morning a few days ago.

While John Upton, chauffeur, was cranking the machine he was surprised to see it start backward. He made a wild dash for the brake, but the auto got away from him. It swept backward at increasing speed, crashed into a Milwaukee avenue car, swung completely around, and, heading west, went over the curbstone and knocked down several signs. It was heading for the basement door of a building at 211 Randolph street, but suddenly changed its mind and plunged off down the street.

"Upton chased the runaway to Franklin street, where he succeeded in getting control of the brakes. His victory was applauded loudly by a crowd of pedestrians who had fled to places of safety in near-by stores when the auto headed down the street.

Chauffeur Upton doesn't think the auto itself is to be blamed for "running amuck." In a written report to the assistant chief, Upton gives it as his professional opinion that while he was cranking the machine, somebody released the brakes and gave her full speed backward, just to see what would happen.

Upton had driven the assistant chief from his home, 3453 Bosworth avenue, to the temporary city hall. The auto was stopped on the south side of the street, heading east. The engine had "gone dead," and after Mr. Schuettler had stepped out the chauffeur started the cranking process. Then the excitement began.

In the early part of its surprising career the auto was chased by Chauffeur Upton, Sergt. Denman, Patrolman Quirk and a dozen pedestrians. When the machine buckled the curb and described an arc back into the street, the pedestrians concluded that they had had enough and fled for shelter. Upton and the bluecoats ran around in circles for a few moments, and then the bluecoats, too, turned the responsibility over to Upton and left the scene with much enthusiasm.

Missing Harry Potter May Be From Michigan

Illinois, 1918

H. L. Oldham Wires Red Cross

Harry L. Oldham, formerly of Decatur but now of Charlevoix, Mich., has wired the Red Cross at Decatur that it is possible the Harry Potter reported as missing by the war department and as from Illinois may be the Harry Potter of that county in Michigan, who was reported killed and whose death has since been confirmed.

Mr. Oldham sent the message because he saw the notice in the Review of the report of the missing of Harry Potter of this state and thought possibly it might have been the one from that district and as he had confirmed the report regarding the Michigan Harry Potter he felt that possibly this would relieve the anxiety of the Decatur relatives of the Illinois Potter.

Mr. Oldham has taken a very active part in the Red Cross activities at Charlevoix.

—Decatur Review, Decatur, Illinois, Dec. 8, 1918, p. 4.

Mystery of 'Poison Farm' Deepens As Two More Die

1915

Visit to Place Brings Out Peculiar Story

SPRINGFIELD, Ill., Dec. 16. — "There y' be," said the guide. "Y' see that stretch o' woods? It's past them. Nobody's ever been in them woods. Y' can't get thru. Well, we go round 'em and then down the hill and then we come to the poison farm. Giddap. Beautiful day, ain't it?"

The rig jogged over the unfrequented road that ran away in loops to meet the sky.

"There ain't many people as comes out here," went on the guide. "It's only a mile and a half from Marseilles but the woods there ain't very hospitable, and the poison farm ain't the sort of place people gets too curious about.

Two More Just Died

"Y' know, two o' them died last week, both together. Everybody dies or gets sick. It's the most mysterious thing. Now, y' take the people as lived on it five or six years ago. I don't recall how many died, but I know they was durn sick, and it always comes on 'em at the same time of the year — almost a certain day. It's something to do with them woods there, I'll betcha, altho the doctor's been working down there for two weeks now, ever since the little girl took sick. Giddap.

"You wouldn't think on a beautiful day like this as there was a poison farm right around the bend, would y'?"

For a few minutes the rig rattled along without any obligato from its driver. The country which on leaving the village of Marseilles had become typical Illinois farm country was now assuming the aspect of a broken wilderness against which pioneers were still struggling. To the west stretched the "poison" wood in which, according to the gossip of the countryside, "no foot had ever trod."

"Poison House" Looms Up

"Now we're comin' to it," called the driver, flickering his whip. "There she is. Y'see that little house. That's the house. That's where the two died last week. Giddap! Come on, there!"

The veteran village charioteer was growing excited. He had straightened in his seat and was leaning forward.

The rig drew to a stop in front of a pretty farmhouse that lay in the shadow of the river hills around it.

"Hello Doc," called the guide, and a serious looking man approached. He introduced himself as Dr. A. J. Weirick of Marseilles.

"Let's not bother the folks," he said. "You can look over the place, and I'll tell you what little we have been able to find out about it."

A tour thru the farm revealed nothing unusual. Apparently the farm differed in no way from the farms which adjoined it. The same road cut thru it, the same pastures surrounded it, the same growths covered it. Only in the pretty farmhouse sat the lone figure of a man, the farmer, who had lost his wife and child a few days ago.

An hour later Dr. Weirick told the medical and scientific side of the strange story which has aroused superstition and fear in the neighborhood. The farm has been tenanted by various families. Before the present tenants lived on it two other families were the occupants.

It was many years ago that something strange about the farm became apparent. In October one or two of the people in the place would get sick. There were deaths but no attention was paid.

The next tenants came on the farm and again the strange fact was noticed that in October sickness came and death. One after another the family fell ill during that month of the years they were there and they finally moved.

Mother, Then Daughter, Stricken

The first year the present occupants were there the wife became ill — in October. She was saved by medical treatment. The second year the daughter became ill — in October. She, too, was saved. The third year the father was stricken and saved as the others had been.

A year passed, during which the peculiar illness was absent and then in October the daughter fell ill. The father also began to "feel bad," and doctors were summoned from Ottawa and Marseilles. While the doctor was caring for the girl and her father the wife began to complain of dizziness and nausea. A nurse was sent for. She had no sooner arrived than the older woman succumbed. Her death was followed in a few hours by the death of her daughter. The husband, who appeared to be also dying, was taken to the hospital.

"It's some form of poison," went on Dr. Weirick. "What it is we don't know. The State Board of Health has taken a hand. The coroner at LaSalle long ago gave up the case. He said there was nothing he could do.

"There is something strange and perhaps unknown to our science lurking in those dense woods or in the pastures. We're as far from a solution of the various deaths and illnesses as ever."

"Giddap," cried the guide, leaving the hospital, whither Dr. Weirick had gone. "I tell y' what, young fella. If y' want the real story o' this poison farm y' go ask Looie over t' Marseilles. He knows. It was he as came thru them woods one night after celebratin' in Ottawa, and while I ain't got no faith in what he says an' no belief in them kind o' things, y' just go and ask him if y' want the real story about why everybody dies in October sudden when they lives on that farm."

New Camera Takes Tall Buildings at Close Range

1915

Aid to Photographic Art

With a new camera, invented and patented by an Elgin, Ill., man, a tall building may be photographed from the ground showing the upper portions as plainly as the lower. Such a building will be the exact size at the top as at the base of the picture. Formerly such a thing was considered impossible and photographers have been hunting some invention for the past twenty years to overcome the fault.

The inventor has many pictures of tall buildings taken from a distance of only a few feet which prove his invention worthy. The invention is simple and requires only the turning of the lens to the proper angle, which is determined by the height of the building and the distance which the camera stands from it.

—Saturday Blade, Chicago, Dec. 18, 1915, p. 9.

Gett Came So Often, Gaigg Just Got Out

Chicago, 1920

Now He's Getting a Divorce While the Getting Is Good

Ludwig Gaigg married Nora Gaigg Dec. 15, 1912.

Last year "Mr. Gett" got between them.

"Forget me, as I shall forget you," wrote Mrs. Gaigg to Mr. Gaigg.

Gaigg took the letter to Judge Sullivan of the Chicago Superior Court and got a divorce.

"We separated Sept. 1, 1919," Gaigg testified. "A man was there whenever I came home."

"Who was he?" asked his attorney, John V. McCormick.

"Mr. Gett," replied Mr. Gaigg. "When I objected, she told me to take my suitcase and get out."

Following is the "forget me" letter that Gaigg said he got from Nora Gaigg, his wife, Nov. 28, 1919:

"Mr. L. Gaigg: You will do me a great favor if you will stay away from me entirely, as I do not wish to see you or have anything to do with you any more. I am thru with you forever and would never think of living with you again. All the love I ever had for you has gone, and I hope you will forget me as I shall forget you."

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Feb. 28, 1920, p. 3.

Fake Beard Lands Gary Man in Cell

March 1920

Merchant-Sleuth Finally Released by Detroit Cops

DETROIT, Michigan — Wearing a false goatee and mustache, Isidor Vila, a well-to-do business man of Gary, Indiana, was arrested here.

Vila conducts a grocery store in Gary. During the strike there last summer a large number of the strikers opened charge accounts at his store. Many of them disappeared without paying their bills, some of them coming to Detroit. Vila decided to go on a collecting trip. He provided himself with false scenery, as he figured he would have a better opportunity of locating his debtors.

Detroit was the first city he visited, and five minutes after he left his hotel adorned with the camouflage he was spotted and arrested, despite his strenuous objections. The Gary authorities wired the Detroit police that Vila was a law abiding citizen and he was then released.


Weds Girl To Whom He Restored Beauty

PEORIA, Illinois — Two years ago Miss Ruth Wheeler, a Peoria school teacher, went to the offices here of Dr. Raymond C. Willett, orthodonist. An otherwise beautiful face was slightly marred by teeth which had grown crooked. She appealed to Dr. Willett to perform an operation to straighten them. Recently, in Chicago, the couple married. Miss Wheeler is the daughter of one of Peoria's prominent families. Dr. Willett is one of the best known practitioners in Peoria.

Thirty Girls Eat Ice Cream

Illinois, 1906

Drill Corps the Guests of General Pennypacker

As guests of General Galusha Pennypacker of Philadelphia, Pa., who is visiting with "Dad" Stearns at the Decatur hotel, the members of the Girls' Drill Corps ate ice cream and cake until they could eat no more Monday night.

Last Saturday General Pennypacker was invited by Commandant James M. Cowan to use the girls drill. He was so delighted with them and with their fine maneuvering that he asked how he could recompense them for his pleasure. He said he thought it was a notable thing to put "thirty young women together for thirty minutes, and have only one do the talking." He suggested ice cream, and the young girls gathered at the Decatur hotel Monday night at his invitation.

There was music during the evening, and "Dad" read some poems and sang, accompanied by his son, Charles Stearns, on the guitar. The general wrote his name and address on the paper napkin of each guest.

—The Daily Review, Decatur, IL, May 15, 1906, p. 7.

Mail Carrier Puts Snowshoes on Horse

Feb. 1920

Man and Beast Finish 45-Mile Trip in Three Days

SEATTLE, Wash. -- "Old the Bear" (A. R. Westerberg), mail carrier between Revelstoke, B.C., and Downie Creek, forty-five miles up the Big Bend, succeeded in accomplishing a feat that established a new record in this district.

The great depth of snow up the Big Bend, together with the heavy crust caused by raining and freezing, made it practically impossible for a horse to travel the roads, but "Ole" conceived the idea of making snow shoes for his horse, which he did out of birch, constructing them circular in shape and more than a foot across.

For protection he covered the horse's legs with blankets.



Rope, Poison Fail -- Shoots Self

ELGIN, Ill. -- After two attempts at suicide -- one by taking poison and one by hanging -- had failed, Swain Wilkinson, an Elburn farmer, shot himself through the heart.

House of Mystery Built, Kept Up, Remains Unused

1911

HOUSE OF MYSTERY

Illinois Dwelling Which Has Had No Occupants

Building Was Erected Fifteen Years Ago, But, With Its Elaborate Furnishings, Remains Unused to This Day

Chrisman, Ill. — The years glide by, the population changes, but the "mystery house" of Chrisman remains unsolved. For fifteen years the residents of this city have sought to penetrate the atmosphere of uncertainty that always surrounds the premises, but all in vain. The curtains are always down, no one appears to take any interest in the future occupation and the identity of the builder or owner remains a secret to this day. There may be material here for a Sherlock Holmes or perhaps a Dickens, and some day, when the story becomes public, there may be abundant food for the gossips. For the present, those who knew, keep their counsel and whether they will ever satisfy the inquisitive public or not, is a matter for speculation.

It was fifteen years ago that the "mystery house" sprang into being at Chrisman. One spring morning, excavators and bricklayers appeared upon the scene and prepared a cellar and foundation walls for a house. Carpenters followed and later came decorators and furnishers. Every workman was pledged to secrecy and would give the curious villagers no hint of the owner. Crowds would stand around as the mechanics wielded their hammers and saws and fashioned the structure into shape, hoping that some clue could be secured concerning the builder. Eagerly they awaited the completion of the structure, being confident that some one would take up their residence there and thus put an end to the speculation. It was the general belief that the builder planned the home for a bride and that a wedding would follow the completion of the structure.

With the departure of the carpenters and decorators, came the furnishers. Expense was not spared to fit up the home in palatial style. The rugs were Oriental; the curtains imported; the china of the highest grade and everything was sumptuous and artistic. Neither money nor time was spared to secure handsome and comfortable results. From parlor to kitchen, from garret to cellar, the house was completed in every detail. The whole was enough to make a woman gasp with delight and admiration. There was nothing lacking but occupants. Strange to relate, they never came.

With the completion of the beautifully furnished home, the shades were dropped, the keys were turned in the lock and the house commenced its long career of idleness. As the years went by, the lawn was trimmed, the shade trees given attention, the exterior and interior painted as made necessary, and everything kept in shape as if the occupants might arrive any day.

With the flight of the years, the people of Chrisman fixed the ownership upon one or the other of two well-to-do young bachelors, but they would never confirm an interrogation. It was the general opinion that they had charge of the building and occasional attention and that some day, one or the other would marry and bring a bride to the vacant home, but the wedding bells were still and the bride came not.

Four years ago some miscreant made an attempt to destroy the house by fire and heavy loss was inflicted. The mechanics came promptly and rebuilt the damaged section and replaced everything. Within a few weeks, all marks of the fire was erased.

To add to the mystery, a number of attempts have been made to purchase the house and some have sought to rent it, but all without avail. Set amidst the dark green foliage of the surrounding trees, the wide windows seem to stare back enigmatically at the people as they pass by and gaze curiously at the curtained windows hading this inanimate thing of mystery which baffles solution.

Six Kisses Are His Limit

1908

Too Much "Lovey Dovey" Business Drove Away a Husband

Chicago, March 10. — Six kisses a day are the limit for Ora M. Leedon. He promised detectives who arrested him for deserting his affectionate wife that he would live with her on that basis. They found him in Springfield, Ill., where he went seven weeks ago.

"It's a case of too much 'lovey dovey' business," said Leedon on the way back from Springfield. "My wife — she was married once or twice before — is a good woman and a fine housekeeper, but she's too strong on the love business to suit me.

"Now, I'm not a chilly guy or anything like that, but I don't want a woman kissing me all the time. When I come home from work in the evening I like to sit down and read the paper. My wife would want me to hold hands with her and say foolish things.

"The only fault I had to find with Annie was her loving nature. I'll agree to go back and live with her if she'll only cut the kissing business out. I don't mind a little kiss now and then, but I draw the line at more than six a day."

Decatur Doctor Caught Digging Up Negro Cadaver

Illinois, 1879

BODY SNATCHING.

A Decatur Doctor After a Negro Cadaver

His Operations Brought to a Sudden Conclusion.

The Decaturites are all worked up over a body snatching affair that occurred last Friday night. A prominent Decatur physician is implicated in the affair, and if he shows up the Decatur folks promise him an anti-cordial reception.

It seems that the above mentioned physician wanted to increase his knowledge of the human frame, and with this end in view he climbed the fence of a Decatur graveyard, having in his possession those necessary grave-robbing instruments, a pick and shovel. Strange to say this son of Esculapius seems to have a horror for the Caucasians. The reason of this is not known, but it is thought that Caucasian "stiffs" do not "pan out" as well as those of other races, therefore he concluded to get a "subject" of the African persuasion.

Having arrived at this conclusion he wended his way toward the "last resting place" of a recently "planted" negro. As soon as the grave was reached he unslung his pick and immediately began to delve into the newly made grave. He worked away with a will, and he was just stooping to raise the lid of the coffin when the deep stillness of the night was broken by the loud report of what seemed to him about seventeen cannons. The bullets flew past his cranium and buried themselves in the earth a few feet beyond him. The perspiration started in great beads to his forehead, and dropping his pick and shovel he precipitately fled. Scaling the graveyard fence, he took a short cut for his stable. Arriving there he immediately hitched his horse to a buggy, and in less time than it takes to "blow up a safe" he was driving across the country at a "Sleepy Tom" gait, and no tidings of his whereabouts have been received up to this writing.

The names of all parties are reserved, as it is thought that there will be further developments made.

—Fort Wayne Sentinel, Fort Wayne, IN, Aug. 19, 1879, p. 4.

Mad Dog Scare — Bulldog Bits Cow, Not Found

Riverdale, Illinois, 1907

Brindle Bull Dog Bites Cow and then Disappears

Early Tuesday morning a brindle bull dog caused considerable excitement in Riverdale by biting a cow owned by Wm. Belz, corner Wabash Ave. and 138th St. The cow was tied in a pasture near the house when the dog approached evidently intending to sample some beef on the hoof. As near as we can learn the cow dissented, and defended herself with several dexterous movements of the left ulterior appendix. This caused the hungry canine to depart hence for new fields of adventure.

Mr. Belz who had witnessed the attack made haste to Chief Baumgartner's house — believing the dog was mad and should be shot. The Chief is a brave man, but armed himself with a double-barrel shotgun and revolver and a black jack and then proceeded to try and find the dog. It would have done a soldier's heart good to see Andy marching down the street. Having served his time in the German Army he knows just how to carry a gun. He searched every nook and corner of the village for a brindle bull dog but found none though he sighted several hundred dogs of other breeds and could have killed a dozen at a single fire of his gun.

Though the dog made his escape and it is hoped the cow will have no serious result from the bite, the village President and the board will hereafter enforce the village ordinances as regards the running of dogs at large without a muzzle.

—The Pointer, Riverdale, Illinois, June 28, 1907, p. 5.

Court Interrupts Founder of "Perfect Woman" Cult

Chicago, 1922

Court Interrupts Founder of Cult

Mrs. Rachael Marie Riggs was reigning on her throne in her home, surrounded by mystic symbols, weird pictures and curious charms, when Chicago police interrupted her reign to ask her to appear in court to answer a charge of contributing to the delinquency of two wards of the court. She claims to see the coming of the perfect woman.

—The Coshocton Tribune, Coshocton, OH, Jan. 18, 1922, p. 1.

Note: I've seen three different publications of this article. They're all from a common source, of course, but each one says she claims to "see" the coming of the perfect woman, not "be" the perfect woman, so apparently there is no typo.