President Wilson's Sister Ill

Sept. 1916

President Wilson received word late Sunday night that the condition of his sister, Mrs. Anne Howe, who is critically ill at New London, Conn., has taken a turn for the worse. The President immediately cancelled all engagements for Monday and announced he would start for New London early in the morning.

—The Fryeburg Post, Fryeburg, Maine, Sept. 12, 1916, p. 6.

Society Girl Weds When Ill in Bed; Dies Three Hours After Ceremony

Dec. 1919

PITTSBURGH, Pa. — Overcome by illness while dressing for her wedding, Miss Estelle English, a society girl of Wilkinsburg, had the ceremony performed while she lay in bed. Three hours later she was dead. The minister who officiated will conduct the young bride's funeral.

Miss English, daughter of Mrs. Estelle English, had issued invitations for her marriage at 10 o'clock a. m. with Herman Roush of Hummelstown. About an hour before the time set, while preparing for the ceremony, she complained of illness, though she apparently had been suffering from a slight cold only.

Dr. McClure, the family physician, was called. He promptly ordered Miss English to bed, stating she had pneumonia and that her condition was serious. The young bride insisted the marriage should not be postponed. The physician refused to permit his patient to leave her bed. It was then decided to have the ceremony performed while the bride lay in bed.

Miss English smilingly answered the questions put to her, and it was believed she was showing improvement. With the end of the ceremony, however, she sank rapidly, and at 1 o'clock she was dead.

Gone Are Days of Flim-Flammers

1915

"Very Simple, Dear Friends. Doesn't Hurt a Bit."

Nowadays in country towns there are those who occasionally take a desperate chance at impromptu crimes, robberies, holdup or sneak thief jobs, but the day of the professional flim-flammer who set out deliberately to bamboozle the people — and invariably did — is gone. The people of the rural communities have grown too "wise." They recognize a four-flusher the moment he hits the town and his "line of stuff" simply doesn't go.

And how the professional Doctor Bunkmores long for "the good old days!"

Take the old-timers who worked the medicine game. They carried a full outfit, including orchestra, band and specialty performers, to attract and hold the attention of the population of the localities they worked. These good people, uninitiated into the workings of this highly specialized graft game, would stand gaping while Doctor Bunkmore would explain how his particular "cure all" was discovered by a missionary in some far-off land, who noticed the natives were never sick, and that they lived to a ripe old age without any pains or aches.

Doctor Bunkmore would dwell upon the wonderful effect of his "Liveo" plant — the basis of his remedy — and how the natives in the far-off lands derived great benefit from eating it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he would say, "I have here a remedy that will make you feel like an entirely new person. No longer will you need to suffer — no matter what your ailment. My good friends, the greatest trouble I experience is to induce a trial by the afflicted."

Then he'd ask for volunteers to demonstrate the curative effect of his medicine. He would urge those who suffered from toothache to pay special attention.

"I want you to come up to the platform," he would say in his most persuasive tones, "and see how easily and quickly I can save you further annoyance with your teeth. You can have your molars removed without pain by the mere rubbing of the gums with this 'miracle.'"

And then he'd arrange his chair and instruments.

"Come right up! Don't be a doubter!"

The cry of the doctor could be heard at a great distance for his voice had been trained to address large assemblages. Then a couple of supposed outsiders who traveled with Doctor Bunkmore all the time would step up, one with his jaw bandaged and claiming he had four teeth that several dentists had refused to remove, fearing to break his jaw and cause lockjaw.

With an air of confidence, the doctor would seat him and apply the remedy to the gums prior to an examination; whereupon the patient's legs would cease waving as from relief of pain.

While the operator inserted an instrument into the man's mouth, the audience would watch with breathless interest.

Old Doc Bunkmore Yanks Out the Offending Molars

Doctor Bunkmore would get a hold with his instrument of a tooth which he had slipped in while making his diagnosis. He would give a slight twist and pull and presto! out would come the tooth. After showing the offending molar to the crowd, the "doctor" would drop it into a tin pan so that all might hear it strike, and repeat the operation until three or four were extracted.

The patient, who had acted as tho asleep, would be asked to stand. Then he would open his eyes as tho awakened from a pleasant dream.

Doctor Bunkmore began to appear to the audience as a wonderful person and expressions of amazement could be heard on all sides. Then patient No. 2, another hired worker of the flim-flammers, would do his stunt equally as well.

And then came the big rush!

Often there'd be as many as fifty men — real, live ones, willing to pay cold cash — ready and anxious to go thru the "painless" operation of having their teeth removed by the great Doctor Bunkmore.

While the band would play so as to drown the squeal of the native as the "doctor" yanked out a tooth, the other victims-to-be would crowd and push ahead for their opportunity to have "Liveo" rubbed across their teeth before the simple — emphasis on the simple — operation was performed. The poor chump would have no chance to move for the doctor would stand straddling his knees as tho they were in a vice, while two husky attendants would hold down his arms and shoulders. No matter how much he squeaked, the slam, bang, bang, ta-rah-rah, of the band would out-noise him. When the teeth were out, one of the assistants would pat him on the back and say: "Ah, you're a game fellow, all right. You've got plenty of nerve." The patient would seek to cover up his yellow streak. He'd slip into the crowd without a murmur. Often he'd deliberately lie that the operation "didn't hurt a bit."

Doctor Bunkmore, having demonstrated the beneficial effects of his "Liveo" would start to place it on sale at $1 a bottle. How cheap! Cheap at twice the price. The bottles of "Liveo" would go like a house afire.

The story is told that one of such "doctors," whose home was in Illinois, who sent barrel after barrel of teeth home to gravel his walk and driveway.

An old-time circus man, speaking of this flim-flamming game, spun this yarn the other day:

"I was once spending the cold months in a Florida city years ago, and from reason of having owned a concession the season just passed was living on easy street. I was particularly impressed with the number of afflicted and crippled people, white and black.

"I had been there about three weeks when advance notice was posted of the coming of a 'classical concert and colossal band,' which was billed for the following week.

"Well, the following Monday the concert company blew into town like a circus. They owned a large waterproof tent seating about 2,000 people, carried a large number of musicians as well as performers, and distributed handbills announced that, commencing at 7:30 p.m. Monday, and every evening during the week, a free concert would be given on the ground.

"Monday night the tent was filled with working people and not a single speech from the doctor or even an intimation of the object of the visit.

"Tuesday evening the crowd was increased by half, and during the intermission between orchestra and vaudeville parts of the program the doctor arose and quietly announced that he proposed selling an absolute instantaneous cure for any swelling or trouble resulting in lameness or nonuse of limbs, as well as rheumatism or kindred ailments, informing them that not one bottle would be sold until acceptable proof had been given, and asked any present to bring a suffering friend, no matter how badly afflicted, the following night, for he desired proving his assertions by relatives and others who lived in the city, whom they knew, and in whom they had confidence.

:A victim was being led toward the stage by two friends. As he drew near I recognized him as 'Uncle Joel' who sold papers in front of the post office and who I understood was a preacher.

"I had seen him daily, seated in his chair with his crutches by his side and legs tied up in a bow knot, from reason, as he said, 'sitic rhum'tism' that had troubled him for 'fo-teen years.'

"He was gently lifted to one of the half dozen cots that had been placed on the elevation.

"Then the doctor pointed to the Col. Wilder negro and another man who from reason of his condition had been laying on the ground, and they were assisted up, groaning, swearing and praying in turn.

"The Wilder patient gave his name as Rufus Johnson, and said he had been hurt by a falling tree striking his back 'six years gone.'

"They were a queer bunch, each with his crutches and bandages, and the audience seemed to hold its breath in suspense as to what would come next, as the doctor quietly ordered his attendants to strip Rufus from the waist up.

"After his old coat and shirt had been removed, one of the attendants held a brilliant light while the doctor diagnosed the case, and that part of the crowd in his rear gasped when they saw the scars on his back.

"One of the assistants handed the doctor a bottle, from the contents of which he saturated a cloth and began applying to the back bones, then forced the patient to lean over in his chair with his head down, while he laid a strip of cotton along the vertebra and soaked it with the remedy, cautioning Rufus not to move, informing the audience that paralysis of the lower limbs was caused by pressure on the spinal cord and that it might require some time to secure results.

"The doctor then requested absolute silence as he turned to Rufus, felt his pulse gently, turned down the top of the cotton which plastered his back, and noted the result of the application; then motioned for his first assistant, who came over and took a peep, nodded his head and smilingly shook the doctor's hand, and it looked to me as tho the doctor dropped his worry mask.

"Turning to the negro he ordered him to raise his right foot. The man groaned and made effort, but failed.

"Turning suddenly, and in a commanding voice, he said: 'Stand up!'

"Rufus stood up with his mouth open and felt his legs, first the right, then the left; a peculiar look passed over his face as he carefully pinched his lower limbs.

"His walk improved with every step until he suddenly stopped and said, 'Gimme them crutches!' and when they were handed him he threw them off the platform to the ground, saying, 'Good-by, old sticks, we's pahted, and I'se gwine to walk widout you after this.'

"The audience began to sit up and take notice, and when one of the men who had been carried in on a cot sprang from his bed and jumped up and shouted a half dozen times and dropped on his knees to give thanks, then joining the four who were now walking around in excitement, it was then the crowd broke loose like crazy people. Then hundreds crowded up and demanded to purchase the medicine. Hundreds of bottles were sold at $2 per bottle, or two bottles for $3. I bought a bottle, tho I had to put up a hard fight to get to the platform.

"That night the doctor and his crowd left the city to fill an engagement somewhere, and early the next morning I packed my grip and went to New Orleans to dig up the best chemist money could induce to analyze the stuff.

"I paid $150 to be informed that the analysis showed only a few cheap ingredients, all harmless, and without curative properties.

"I learned later that the doctor had in his employ a dozen 'high-class' white men and about twenty picked negroes, whom he had carefully trained and divided into two or three companies, one of which would be sent to a city about three weeks in advance of his entry.

"The whites were furnished with plenty of money, stopped at the best hotels, and, as good mixers, under pretext of tourist or speculator, made friends with the best people. All were under strict instruction not to associate with one another; the negroes to always claim residence in the county, hobble on crutches in public, and each, under assignment of the white boss, asked to carefully cultivate the acquaintance of certain business or professional men, so that the latter would afterward recommend them for cure when called upon by the doctor's assistants.

"The company carried a good artist, who, prior to the public appearance of the patients, would paint scars, cancers and knots true to life on the person of the 'patient.' He could also shade a leg or arm to look large or small, and, naturally, when the doctor applied the remedy, under cover of the cotton, he would rub away the painting."

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Dec. 18, 1915, p. 12.

Queer Nobles

1896

Fancy being able to purchase a wealthy nobleman's residence for $75. Yet that is the sum which was paid the other day for the house in which the late Lord Donington passed the greater part of last winter.

His Lordship — he died a few months back — possessed a seat called Farleigh-Hungerford Castle, in Somerset, England, but he had been induced, as he had several other residences, to let the castle for a term of years. When he got ill last year he fancied that the air on his Farleigh estate would benefit his health, but he scarcely liked to intrude himself on his tenant, and so, in one of the fields near the castle, not included in the tenant's lease, he had a wooden hut built, twenty-seven feet by twenty-five feet and some twelve feet in height. This he had divided into four cabin-like rooms, and in that little place, accompanied by a couple of servants, he passed several months last winter.

He was the husband of the late Lady Maud Hastings, who, on the death of her brother, the last Marquis of Hastings, became Countess of Loudoun in her own right. — New York Mail and Express.

Cause of Washington's Death

Feb. 1920

George Washington probably died of diphtheria, instead of acute laryngitis, as is commonly believed, according to an article by Dr. R. B. Hemenway. Dr. Hemenway outlined briefly the means used to cure ills during the time of Washington.

"It is probable that Washington's life was cut short more by excess of treatment than by disease," the article reads. "It is sometimes said that he died of acute laryngitis, but we believe that it is now generally agreed his disease was diphtheria."


Site of the White House

The site for the president's palace, as the first maps name it, was selected by President Washington and Major L'Enfant when they laid out the federal city in 1792. They purposed to have the president's house and the capitol reciprocally close to the long vista formed by Pennsylvania avenue, and they also laid out a parklike connection between the two great buildings. The plans for the house, selected by Washington and Jefferson as the result of a competition in which L'Enfant took part, were drawn by James Hoban, a native of Dublin.


Prominent in Many Things

A close study of the life, letters and documents of Washington will show that he was prominent also as a business man, a farmer, a philosopher and a statesman and in his knowledge of human nature.

Asleep on Card Table, Man Has Coughing Fit, Dies

Iowa, 1901

DIES ON A CARD TABLE

WILLIAM HANNAH'S DEMISE IN DELMONICO CLUB ROOMS

So Sudden Was His Passing That Those In the Room With Him Knew Nothing of It Until the Man Was In His Death Struggles — Leaves the Text of a Sermon Written In His Note Book

Several men were gathered in the club room over the Delmonico early yesterday morning. One was lying asleep on the table. Several others had just been out for a lunch, and on returning to the room one of them had brought in with him a very large Newfoundland dog, the big shaggy animal making himself at home near the stove. Suddenly a loud coughing or choking was heard, and Osborn Reynolds cried "Put that dog out. This room is too warm for him."

"It's not the dog; it's 'Ditch,' answered one of the men.

"Wake him up, boys," and two or three of them hurried over to the table to do so.

"My God! He's dead," they cried and the limp form was allowed to fall back. The face was of chalky whiteness, and it was not necessary to call a physician to learn that life had fled, though, of course, a physician was speedily, but uselessly called.

Thus, lying on a card table in a saloon club room, William Hannah died. Not the slightest warning had he; probably not a moment of conscious suffering. His heart had filled up with blood and then refused to work. It was all so sudden that the men about the corpse could hardly realize what had happened.

There was considerable difficulty yesterday in identifying the dead man. He was known to several people but only as "Ditch," this peculiar nickname coming from the fact that he worked at laying tile when he worked at all. The remains were taken to the Boies' undertaking parlors and during the forenoon Coroner Fred Lambach conducted an autopsy. In the afternoon the coroner's inquest was held and a verdict was rendered that William Hannah came to his death by cardiac paralysis. The coroner's jury consisted of M. J. Scandrett, William Schwarnweber, and O. K. Wilson.

A Dead Man's Sermon

"There's no fool like an old fool," wrote Hannah in his note book not long ago, and the quotation is the text of a sermon that the dead man is preaching to his fellow creatures. The rest of his sermon is found in the story of his life. It developed at the inquest that not many months ago William Hannah had come into the possession of some money, inherited from an eastern relative. He came to Davenport and spent most of his time about a card table. At first he was successful. He did not play heavily, but he won, and he grew to love the game. Men who knew him say it was a study to watch the face of "Ditch" when he was handling the pasteboards. It often made them forget their own game. But there came a time when "Ditch" didn't win. Every bit of his money was gone. He had been known to the police for the past two weeks as "broke," and when Dr. Lambach examined his stomach at the autopsy yesterday morning it was learned that no food had been eaten in the last 24 hours. It was probably during this period that the text was written in the note book.

System Much Deranged

Though to outward appearance Hannah was a healthy man, the autopsy showed that his system was very much disordered. His stomach was what is known as a "whisky stomach," though there was no testimony to show that he was a hard drinker. His kidneys were in bad shape. His right lung had grown to his side as the result of an attack of pluerisy. His liver gave evidence of a disease from which few men recover, and all tended to weaken his heart.

At the inquest testimony was taken from Captain Fred Hitchcock, Michael Rourke, P. Phelan. Ed Neils, W. H. Costello, John Cahil, Dr. Porter, who was called at the time of Hannah's death, and Os Reynolds, the proprietor of the place where the man died. From the testimony it was learned that Hannah had been in Gallagher's place in the early evening, that he had gone to the Delmonico about 12 o'clock, and had fallen asleep upon the card table, a habit that he had been more or less regular in of late. No one took any particular notice of him until the fatal coughing fit attracted them.

Hannah had previously lived at Williamsburg, Ia., where it is understood he has a sister. He carried photographs of two men, one young and the other old. He had told some of his acquaintances that they were his brother and father, and lived in California. The dead man was about 35 years of age.

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, Feb. 17, 1901, p. 7.

Notes Around Town – Motion Pictures, Fobs, and Fish

Stevens Point, Wisconsin, May 29, 1907

A. W. Carle, proprietor and manager of the Ideal theatre, will give the usual program of moving pictures, illustrated songs and musical numbers on Sunday afternoons and evenings.

Benjamin Sias, of Sparta, who won the district declamatory contest in this city a couple of weeks ago, was named the best speaker at the state contest, held in Madison, last Friday evening.

Chas. U. Conlisk left for the Sacred Heart Sanitarium, Milwaukee, Monday morning, to take a course of treatment, he not having been feeling well of late. He will no doubt return in a short time fully recuperated.

The latest fad! Gold plated signet Normal and High school fobs. Call and see them at French, Campbell & Co.

The machine shop of F. A. Sustins, on North Third street, was entered through a window Friday night and a number of valuable tools stolen. A bar was pryed off a window after a pane of glass had been broken.

Mrs. E. I. Tozier, who resides just west of the city in the town of Linwood, has been afflicted with blood clots in the veins and tissues for the past few years, and will leave next week for the Sacred Heart Sanitarium, Milwaukee, to remain some weeks under the care of the able physicians and nurses there.

J. W. Moxon and son, Arnold, returned Monday morning on train No. 1 from Gills Landing, where they had spent Saturday night and part of Sunday on the Wolf river, catching bass. No bass offered to take their bait, but a huge rock sturgeon, weighing 47½ pounds was secured by Arnold. His father assisted in landing the big fish.

Judge Murat has ordered Willie Koslowski, of Junction City, to be committed to the Boys' Industrial school at Waukesha. The boy refused to obey his parents and was given into Sheriff Guyant's charge, Thursday, he being taken to that institution thereafter.

Jack Carkeek, who in years gone by was one of the best known wrestlers in this country, but who has spent the past few years across the ocean, has been renewing acquaintances in this city for a few days.

Geo. L. Rogers and John Martini left here Tuesday morning for Mt. Clemens, Mich., to remain about three weeks and enjoy the health-giving baths of that resort. Both gentlemen have been troubled with rheumatism for some time.

Rev. Russell Wilber, archdeacon of Fond du Lac, conducted services in the Episcopal church here Sunday morning and evening. The visiting clergyman made a fine impression, he being a speaker of unusual ability, with a pleasing manner and a convincing form of expression.

—The Gazette, Stevens Point, Wisconsin, May 29, 1907