Dog, Chasing Cat, Is Stranded In Tree

1920

MIDDLEBORO, Mass. — Alphonse Provost had missed his dog Fido for three days when Chester Amsden stopped to inform him his pet was stuck in a hollow tree near the John B. Savage farm.

Fido had presumably chased a cat not wisely but too utterly regardless of consequences, and got wedged in, with a knot hole sufficiently large to admit of sticking his head out and barking for aid.

An ax enlarged the knothole and Fido was liberated, little the worse for his experience except being a bit hungry.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Aug. 7, 1920, p. 3.

Saves 4 From Runaway Trolley Car

1920

Rescuer Catches Up With an Auto

WORCESTER, Massachusetts— There are a lot of thrillers in real life that rival anything ever seen in the movies. And Mrs. Bertha Velle and her three children of Bramanville, Mass., will fervently subscribe to the statement. For Mrs. Velle and her youngsters had an experience with a trolley car followed by a heroic rescue that they'll never forget. In some unknown manner the brakes became loose just after they had climbed on the car and the car started on a wild run down the steep hill. Mrs. Velle fainted and her children clung frantically to her. But Arthur Heywood, the motorist, hailed a passing auto, gave chase, and pulled off the rescue in a manner that would have made Douglas Fairbanks green with envy.

It all happened a few days ago. Mrs. Velle and the three children went to Worcester to bring a charge of non-support against her husband. They waited for a trolley car in the outskirts of the city. Finally one came. The motorist and conductor went away to make their reports while Mrs. Velle and the children entered the car.

Car Speeds Down Hill.

They were chatting when the car suddenly began to move a little. In a few seconds it had gained more speed. Mrs. Velle gave a scream of horror as she saw that they were going over the brink of a steep hill. She rushed to the brakes. The car had already started down hill and was going at a terrific speed, swaying from one side to another as if it were to leap the rails at any moment.

The woman tugged frantically at the brakes, while her babies clung to her and screamed. Then she fainted.

Arthur Heywood, the motorist of the car, appeared on the scene. just as the car began to speed down the hill.

Catches Car in Flying Leap.

He hailed a passing automobile and a wild race began. But the auto, a high-powered machine, soon caught up and Heywood made a flying leap from the auto to the car platform. It was soon brought to a standstill.

Mrs. Velle, after being revived, went on to Worcester, where she appeared in court against her husband on a charge of non-support.

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

New Hampshire Farmers May Retail Milk in Boston

1916

Manchester, N. H., Sept. 23. — Officers of the New England Milk Producers' association went into conference here tonight with regard to price and the distribution of milk in Boston, and it is apparent that the deliberations will continue past midnight.

The present situation was brought about by the association recommending to the farmers of New England that they insist upon 50 cents a can of 8 1-2 quarts, this price giving the producer one-half a cent per quart more than the price he is now receiving.

Thus far only one large firm distributing milk at retail has consented to pay the price asked, although another big company, which handles milk by wholesale only, has been paying the price now asked for several weeks. A spirit of extreme optimism prevails the gathering here tonight and no doubt was expressed but that all of the distributors will accede to the demand which is being insisted upon by the farmers.

"Our object in meeting tonight is to encourage the farmers to stick for the price which has been demanded, but in the event of all of the distributors refusing to comply with the advance in price, to arrange ways and means for distributing the milk in Boston," said Pres. Richard H. Pattee. "We don't want to pour milk on the ground," he continued, "and we want Boston people to have it, and believe that ways will be found for getting it to the consumers. The farmers are holding together almost as a unit in asking for the new price, and we can find only an isolated instance here and there where a farmer has signed to deliver milk to a contractor at the old price."

Jesse Pomeroy Ends 40th Year in Prison

1916

Notorious Prisoner Longer in "Solitary" Than Any Other "Lifer" in Country.

BOSTON, Massachusetts — Jesse Pomeroy, serving a life sentence for murder, has just completed his fortieth year in solitary confinement at the state prison in Charlestown. Pomeroy is said to have served in solitary longer than any other prisoner in this country, and, unless the commitment order is changed, he will have to be kept in that manner until he dies.

He began his sentence at the age of 16, after having been convicted of diabolical attacks on several small children. In recent years numerous efforts have been made to secure for him the privileges of a "trusty," but all of these have been unavailing.

Numerous attempts at escape have been made by the notorious prisoner, and these, together with his known predilection for taking human life, have influenced the authorities in strictly adhering to the conditions of the original sentence which prescribed solitary imprisonment.

While "solitary imprisonment" is the name given to the punishment Pomeroy is undergoing, it does not mean that he never leaves his cell. He goes out in the yard every day in charge of a guard and spends an hour there. But that is while the other prisoners are at work in the shops. During the forty years that he has been confined Pomeroy has seldom seen the face of a human being other than those of his keepers and of his aged mother, who died several years ago.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 5.

Cockroach Derby Excites "Rookies"

1916

HERB ROTH'S "ATTABOY" IS EASY WINNER.

Runs the Two-yard Course in Two fifths of a Second — A Classy Brute.

BOSTON, Massachusetts, (Aboard the U. S. S. Kentucky). — "Attaboy," the pride of Herb Roth's string of racing cockroaches, won the two-yard championship on a recent afternoon from a field composed of Dal Dawkins' "Hammock King," J. W. Bailey's "Ditty Box Bill," Herbert Reed's "Mess Jumper," Albert Schedy's "Scamperer" and a half dozen others. Practically all of the civilian volunteers and many of the regular crew witnessed the speed contests and the bookmakers did a thriving business.

It was thinness which finally resulted in victory for the Roth string. Hawkins had starved his roaches for two days in preparation for the big race, but some miscreant broke into the stables and fed them, so that they were a bit leggy at the start and not much interested in the mince pie which awaited them at the finish, while Roth's "Attaboy," ravenous, covered the two yards in two-fifths of a second.

The overfed condition of Hawkins' string resulted in all his entries running last, while Bailey's "Ditty Box Bill" and Reed's "Mess Jumper" were a bad second and third to the winner.

"Attaboy" is a magnificent brute, standing nearly three-quarters of an inch high at the withers and weighing not less than ten milligrams.

These cockroach races have proved so interesting a divertissement that it is proposed to arrange intership contests.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 7.

Ends Long Hike

1919

Man Walks From Chicago to Lynn, Mass., in 22 Days.

BOSTON, Massachusetts — Michael Doyle, the champion pedestrian of Lynn and one of the best known walkers in New England, has completed his walk from Chicago to Lynn, covering the distance in twenty-two days and eighteen hours. His friends declare that he made the distance in a few hours less than the record made several years ago by Weston.

When Doyle arrived in Lynn no one was about to greet him. His friends had expected him to reach the city later and had waited up to give him a reception. When he arrived he visited a barber shop and then repaired to his home for rest. He completed the last leg of his long hike from North Brookfield, Mass., to Lynn, a distance of sixty-seven miles, between noon and morning.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 10.

Takes Nails and Is Nailed

1919

Thief Leaves Fur Coat and Walks Away With Hardware.

BOSTON, Massachusetts — Samuel Donovan of an unknown address aroused the interest of Patrolman John Manning. Donovan, the officer alleges, stepped up to an unoccupied automobile and caressingly fondled an expensive fur coat, which he subsequently put down and walked away.

Later, the officer says, he returned to the machine, took out a heavy bundle and started briskly along the street. He had gone but a short distance when the officer stopped him and, after a few questions, escorted him to the City Hall avenue station. When the bundle was opened it was found to contain about seventy-five pounds of ordinary nails. The Christmaslike wrappings on the bundle were evidently deceptive.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 7.

Funeral is Held For Cat

1919

$6,000 Animal Is Buried on Estate in Metal Casket.

LENOX, Massachusetts — Funeral rites over a cat here were attended by all the employes on the Summer estate of Mrs. Carlos de Herodias of New York, and the feline's "remains" were buried on the estate in a metal casket. Hyacinth, a Persian cat, said to have cost $6,000, was greatly treasured by Mrs. de Herodias, and when it died at her home in New York the owner had the body borne here in a special automobile truck.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 7.

She's Proud of Her Title of "Modern Betsy Ross"

1915

In her studio on the top floor of a quaint brick building in Westland avenue, Boston, Mass., Mrs. Amelia Fowler, the famous flag expert, sits quietly in a businesslike frame, and, with needle and thread, works wonders. The photograph shown here was taken recently in the studio. Mrs. Fowler takes a piece of silk and embroiders America's seal on one side. Then she turns it over and embroiders something else in different colors on the other. And neither design shows thru the silk. She is said to be the only person in the world who can do this.

And yet there isn't the slightest inclination on Mrs. Fowler's part to make believe she is endowed with any special ability. She assumes — in fact, says openly — that her accomplishment is due to natural ability combined with hard, conscientious work. Tho she has many employees, she is herself probably the hardest working of all. She's enthusiastic over flag restoration and imparts this enthusiasm to her co-workers.

Mrs. Fowler is known all over the world as an authority on flags, flag restoration and flag history. She is called the "modern Betsy Ross." And she is proud of this title. It will be remembered that Mrs. Elizabeth ("Betsy") Ross, a patriotic lady, made the first "Stars and Stripes" in 1777. Previous to that time several designs had been used for flags. The flag as adopted June 14, 1777, had 13 white stars, arranged in a circle, in a field of blue, and the fly had 13 stripes, alternate red and white, and retained its form until 1795, when Vermont and Kentucky were admitted into the Union; then, by an act of Congress, it was changed to 15 stars and 15 stripes. On March 24, 1818, an act was passed restoring the flag to its original 13 stripes, and ordered "That a new star be added on the 4th of July succeeding the admission of every new State."

Mrs. Fowler does practically all the present flag work for the United States Government. She has restored 173 flags and received $300,000 for her work. She specializes on the "Stars and Stripes," America's emblem. "It means so much to me now, more so, perhaps, than ever before," says Mrs. Fowler. "We should all feel proud of our flag and our country in these days of trial."

Peg-Legged Hen a Fighter

1905

Side-Wallops Fowl That Make Light of Her Infirmity

Laying five eggs a week in the season when prices are highest is a minor accomplishment of a Ware (Mass.) hen that has a wooden leg. The hen is of Rhode Island red stock, and is owned by Charles F. Wilcox.

The leg was broken last spring, when it was a pullet, by a stone from the hand of a wanton youth. The fractured support was bandaged in splints and the bone apparently knit. But cold weather had a bad effect and a sore developing, Mr. Wilcox decided to end the suffering of the hen.

His little daughters pleaded so strongly for the hen that Mr. Wilcox spared her life and amputated the leg. In tribute to its fortitude the hen was christened Martyr.

"Why can't Martyr have a wooden leg like other people?" inquired one of Mr. Wilcox's daughters. Mr. Wilcox facetiously referred the suggestion to Gilbert Girard, who declared the idea practicable, and after taking measurements of Martyr's right leg, fashioned a leg from hard maple and attached it.

The leg, which was fitted several weeks ago, has never been removed, and the daughters of Mr. Wilcox refuse to be convinced that scales, feathers and toes will not eventually appear on the artificial leg.

When Martyr made her first appearance with the barnyard fowl after acquiring the wooden leg, her former associates united in attacking her. Martyr, however, had learned the value of the leg as a weapon, and with hard side swipes bowled her antagonists over. Her assailants adopted a conciliatory policy thereafter.

A favorite recreation with Martyr is to insert the wooden leg in the snow, and, curling the right leg beneath its feathers, stand for half an hour or more at a time, enjoying the discomfiture of imitators. Once the wooden leg became frozen in the ice, and Martyr had to be rescued.

Wave Tosses Fisherman Out of Dory in Storm

1915

Victim of Accident Drowns Out From Boston

BOSTON, Mass., Dec. 16 — Just as the fishing schooner Elk, Capt. Patrick Murphy, arrived at the Fish Pier, South Boston, in the gray of dawn the other morning, with her colors at half-mast, Philip Kusa, aged 24, one of two men lost from the schooner a fortnight ago during a gale on Browns' Bank, came in aboard the Yarmouth steamer, reporting that his dorymate, Gordon Goodwin, aged 22, of East Publico, Mass., had been washed from his dory and drowned.

The drowned man was a brother of Griffin Goodwin of the schooner Flavilla.

The Elk had been fishing on Browns' for several days. One morning recently, the dorymen, fishing two in a boat, were out hauling trawls. At sundown, Kusa, making his first fishing trip, and Goodwin failed to report aboard.

There was a high wind blowing and a terrific sea. Captain Murphy sailed about searching for the two men, but without success.

Meanwhile the two dorymen were battling with a terrible sea. Their little boat was tossed about like an eggshell. Finally a vicious wave washed Goodwin clean out of the boat, while Kusa clung on for dear life.

Unable to do anything to save his companion young Kusa clung to his boat and watched his companion sink. All that night he was tossed about by the waters and all next day. About 5 o'clock that night, weak from lack of food and drink and unnerved by the fearful experience of seeing Goodwin drown, Kusa was picked up by the schooner Pauline.

The schooner landed him at Shelbourne and he secured passage to this port.

Massachusetts Court Severe on Husbands

1896

According to the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court husbands can no longer rule their wives. The Court says, in rendering a recent decision:

"By virtue of this legislation a married woman becomes, in the view of the law, a distinct and independent person from her husband, not only in respect to her right to own property, but also in respect to her right to use her time for the purpose of earning money on her sole and separate account. She may perform labor, and is entitled to her wages and earnings. If she complies with the statutory requirement as to recording a certificate she may carry on any trade or business on her sole and separate account, and take the profits, if profits there are, as her separate property."

Her husband can appropriate neither her earnings nor her time, but he is obliged to support her as in the old regime. He has few rights left, though, for, "to a certain limited extent, as for example, in fixing the domicile and in being responsible under ordinary circumstances for its orderly management, the husband is still the head of the family." — New York Press.

Seeing General Jackson

1900

The habitual teller of "yarns" is bound to get himself into all manner of difficulties sooner or later, and to become a laughing-stock among his fellows. In the old Massachusetts town of Wrentham many amusing reminiscences of a celebrated "town liar" of a previous generation, Carlos Ware by name, are still related.

One day, in a company where Carlos was present, mention was made of the time when General Jackson travelled through the town on the stagecoach, on his way to Boston, and put up at the tavern for dinner. Carlos was at once reminded of his own experience on that occasion.

"I remember him," said he. "I see him git down out o' the coach and go into the tavern. You see, I was down to the Four Corners mowin'. It was a pretty hot day, and my team was standin' under a tree. I had just finished whettin' my scythe, when I heard the horn blow on the stagecoach. I knew General Jackson was comin' into the town.

"So I hung my scythe up on a tree, hitched up my team, and drove down here to the Centre in just two minutes. I —"

"Drove down here in two minutes!" exclaimed somebody. "You couldn't do it in two minutes. It's a good mile and a half to the Four Corners, and everybody knows it."

Carlos Ware was bothered for an instant, but he would not give up his two minutes.

"Well, you see," said he, "'twas awful good sleighin'!"

—Youth's Companion.

"Patriots' Day"

1900

The State of Massachusetts has a holiday which, although it is but seven years old, has attained great popular success. It is called Patriots' day, and is celebrated on April 19th, in commemoration of the battles of Concord and Lexington.

In Massachusetts this holiday has a special reason for its existence, aside from the fact that Concord and Lexington are within the limits of the state. It takes the place of the old Fast day, which fell by custom on the first Thursday in April. The transformation of Fast day into a day for baseball, fishing and merrymaking was a perversion of what was intended to be "a day of humiliation, fasting and prayer." The people were not willing to give up the vernal holiday, and the celebration of the anniversary of Concord fight gave an opportunity for retaining it. A bill has been introduced in Congress to make April 19th a national holiday.

Of course Congress has no power to make the observance of a holiday binding on the people; but if the nation were to make the day a holiday for its functionaries and employes, its example would undoubtedly be followed by some at least of the states.

It may be suggested that a day might be found for a vernal holiday which would not commemorate the opening of the great war which gave the country independence. The battles of the Civil War have wisely been left uncelebrated, nor have the anniversaries of battles with other countries been turned into holidays.

On the other hand, it is impossible to celebrate the beginning of national life without celebrating some incident of the great struggle with England; and it would be absurd to suppose — considering how holidays are spent — that animosity toward "the mother country" would be fostered, or would even be intermingled with the sentiments which a spring holiday might awaken.


Medicine to South Africa

The horrors of war in South Africa have been softened by many acts of magnanimity on both sides, and fierce foes in combat have forgotten animosity when moved by the appeal of human needs. Before the relief of Ladysmith a message went from the camp of the Boers to that of the British, requesting, for the relief of men in hospitals, a certain kind of medicine which the Boers' medical department lacked. The request was instantly granted. The Boers' confidence in the humanity of their foes was as touching as it was creditable to the British who inspired it.

— Youth's Companion.

Eccentricities of Maiden Ladies Amused Eastern Town

1896

A Pair of Twins

The curious streak of obstinacy which crops out in many New England families, especially in small places, where the range of ideas and occupations is small, has been brought into prominence through the tales of a gifted group of story writers, notably by Miss Mary E. Wilkins. People living in other parts of the country often think her stories must be exaggerations, but dwellers in New England towns can parallel most of them from their own knowledge.

In one Massachusetts village there dwelt not many years ago two maiden ladies, called, though they were over forty years of age, "the Hatfield girls." Beside this youthful appellation, they retained a youthful taste for gay colors. As they were twins, very tall, very lean, always wearing skirts conspicuously short to avoid dust, and hat brims unusually wide to avoid injuring their eyes, they would have been rather remarkable figures even if they had not chosen to dress, school girl fashion, in clothes exactly alike to the slightest detail.

They were always together, and it was one of the characteristic sights of the village to see the Hatfield girls plodding through the snow to the postoffice in their green-and-red plaid gowns, black-braided coats and big, brown, fuzzy felt hats with great pea-green bows. Their muffs, mittens, tippets, wristers, barege veils, even their rubber boots, were duplicates of each other. In fact the sisters were as absolutely alike as the twin paper dolls which little girls cut from a piece of paper folded double.

In summer it was the same. They floated by to church in duplicate blue muslins, or watered their flower beds in the early morning in indistinguishable hideous purple wrappers.

Suddenly, the village was stirred by an exciting event: the Hatfield girls had quarreled! They quarreled because Mary Abby, who overheard a small boy making jokes at their expense, suggested to Ann Eliza that perhaps it would be as well if henceforth they dressed just a little differently. Ann Eliza received the suggestion as the cruelest of insults; but she said hotly that, after that, she wouldn't for a kingdom wear a dress off the same piece as Mary Abby's.

Sure enough, the sisters ceased to dress alike. Furthermore, they did not dress harmoniously. They were together as much as ever — but if Mary Abby wore pink, Ann Eliza had on scarlet; if she wore green. Ann Eliza wore blue; if it were yellow, she decked herself in magenta; if it were brown or gray, she tried to get a shade of the same color that would make her sister's appear dingy and faded.

It was a war of colors waged furiously for a week, bitterly for a month, spitefully for a year; then perseveringly, resolutely, obstinately, for one — two — three — four — five years; from five to ten; ten to twelve; twelve to thirteen.

Neither sister would give in, for after a brief exhibition of colors Mary Abby had tried to fight her offended twin with her own weapons, and to array herself in hues too violent to be overwhelmed. They were as gay as parakeets, the two poor bitter old twins, and the interested village had quite given up expectation of a change, when at length a change came.

One morning the "Hatfield girls," side by side, and dressed in new and glossy black, entered the postoffice amid a crowd of staring villagers, and called for their mail. They were in mourning evidently — but nobody could think who had died. At length the postmistress ventured, to inquire.

"Yes," said Ann Eliza, soberly, smoothing down her new cape, "we are in mourning. It wa'n't strictly necessary, I presume, but we thought it best. It's Cousin John's wife out in Montana. We've never seen her but we hear she was a very worthy woman, and a credit to the family."

And whether or not the Hatfield girls mourned deeply for the unknown wife of Cousin John, it is certain that for the remaining years of their lives their clothes were black, and were cut alike, and the village guessed that they had found a way to end their warfare, without acknowledging surrender, or proclaiming peace.

Telescopic Lenses Now Complete

Massachusetts, 1896

The great lenses, forty inches in clear aperture, for the Yerkes telescope, are now complete in the workshop of Alvan G. Clark at Cambridgeport, Mass.

An observatory, to be under the control of Chicago University, has been equipped for the reception of the great telescope, and it will soon be in use. The tube, which is of steel and sixty-three feet long, was made in time for exhibition at Chicago during the Columbian Exposition, and is said to be equal to all the demands for strength, rigidity and easy movement.

The two lenses composing the objective are of the simplest form. One is of crown and the other of flint glass, each being forty and a half inches in diameter. An inch and a half is cut off in mounting, giving a clear aperture of forty inches. The crown lens is double convex, three-quarters of an inch thick at the edge and two and three-quarters of an inch thick at the center. Being well supported about the circumference, this thickness gives sufficient rigidity, although the weight is nearly two hundred pounds. The flint or negative lens is plano-concave, two inches thick on the edge and about an inch and a quarter in the center, weighing 3000 pounds. These lenses have been tested for months by Mr. Clark, and local imperfections have been corrected in the most careful manner.

The production of the rough disks of glass was a labor of great difficulty, and the final success of the makers in Paris marks a great advance in the manufacture of optical glass. One of the disks was completed and delivered at Cambridgeport long before the other was perfected, and it was necessary to await the production of both before the labor of grinding and polishing could be undertaken.

It would not be surprising if a telescope of forty-eight inches aperture were constructed within the next ten years and perhaps earlier. Of course, the possible sagging of the glass from its own weight may become perceptible in a glass of fifty inches. But the perfection of the forty-inch glass shows that the limit has not been reached, and no one can tell whether properly proportioned glass of forty-eight inches will sag or not until the experiment be tried. — Rochester Democrat and Chronicle.

Crowing Cocks in Suit Cases

Massachusetts, 1909

Game Birds at Union Station Sound Warning of Coming Battle at Some Secret Rendezvous

Evidently there is going to be a cock fight in the upper part of the state, tonight or tomorrow, as three of the game birds went through here, early this morning. In their passage through the city the three young men. in charge of the fighting cocks, threw a scare into the men in charge of the baggage room at the local station, and incidentally revealed the presence of the hidden birds.

It was shortly after 5:30 this morning, when three young men who had evidently arrived on the 6:20 train, stepped into the baggage room, each armed with a suit case. They placed their cases on the floor and inquired about the departure of trains for Bellows Falls. Upon receipt of the information they left the baggage room without their cases.

After the departure of the men the baggage room resumed its usual quietness at that hour of the morning and the baggage men resumed their work. Suddenly the room resounded with the cries of roosters and the baggage-men looked at each other in surprise. The crowing continued and investigation on the part of the employees traced the sound to the suit cases where it was quickly perceived that each suit case contained a bird. The case was filled with air holes so the roosters had plenty of room. Only for their unexpected noise they would have been undiscovered.

Train time found the young men on hand, the cases were picked up and the trio set forth for the scene of the battle.

—The Fitchburg Sentinel, Fitchburg, MA, Feb. 13, 1909, p. 2.