His Detective Work

1895

STORY OF HOW RICHARD VAUX RAN DOWN A FAMOUS COUNTERFEITER.

Colonel Monroe Edwards' Threat to Kill the Recorder, Which Was Not Carried Out — A Noted Duel Which Grew Out of the Trial — Evarts Was In the Case.

Richard Vaux was not only famous as a jurist and statesman, but over half a century ago achieved widespread fame as a detective in the case of Colonel Monroe Edwards in Philadelphia, in October, 1841. Edwards, who was a native of Russellville, Ky., astounded the world by the boldness and success of his operations as a forger, his last offense realizing $44,000, which was secured by a series of forged letters and cotton warehouse receipts.

Judge Loundes, a famous criminal lawyer, was engaged to hunt down the culprit. He was located in Philadelphia, and Richard Vaux, then recorder of the city, by shrewd detective work, discovered the forger's stopping place. On going to the house the recorder rang the bell, leaving Judge Loundes and Mr. Hart a little to one side from the door. A servant girl answered to the bell.

"I want to see Colonel Monroe Edwards," said the recorder. "Is he in?"

She replied that he was, and Mr. Vaux immediately walked into the parlor. Between the parlor and the back room there was a door, and it was evident from the rattle of the knives and forks that those within the other apartment were engaged in a meal. There was no one in the parlor, and the girl went through the door and said something. A moment later a fine looking man came into the parlor. He was about 5 feet 9 inches in height, admirably proportioned, with hair as black as the raven's wing and dark eyes that shot a piercing glance from under dark eyebrows. He was dressed with scrupulous exactness and wore a large amount of fine jewelry, evidently paying a great deal of attention to his personal appearance. The recorder approached him and said:

"Good evening, Colonel Monroe Edwards. I believe you are Colonel Monroe Edwards, if I recollect aright?"

"I am that person," was the reply, "and am very glad to see you."

The identity ascertained, the recorder gave the preconcerted signal, and Judge Loundes, Mr. Hart, Captain Young and the police entered the room. Mr. Vaux directed Captain Young to put the handcuffs on Edwards, which was done. The prisoner made no remarks of any kind, and said not a word. The recorder, having completed his duties in the affair, was about to leave the room, when a very agile, slim, light colored mulatto boy of about 16 years rushed at the official with a long knife in his hand, and made a lunge at him with the weapon. So quick was the movement that there was nothing for the recorder to do but knock his assailant down and take the knife from him, which he did. Two or three persons, probably boarders, came into the room at that moment, and the mulatto disappeared, and was never afterward seen in this city, though "he" was afterward found to be a woman who traveled with Edwards in male attire.

The forger's trunks were secured, and Recorder Vaux gathered the evidence with peculiar detective ability.

The trial came off in the city of New York before Judge William Kent, a son of Chancellor Kent. Thomas Francis Marshall of Kentucky, Mr. Edmunds and a young gentleman named Evarts were counsel for the accused. Mr. Vaux, in recognition of the judicial functions of his office, was invited to take a seat beside the Judge on the bench. The appearance and demeanor of the young lawyer named Evarts attracting his attention, he said to Judge Kent, "Who is that young gentleman?"

"His name is Evarts," replied the judge, and I think he has the making of a lawyer in him."

It was the famous William M. Evarts, since then admittedly at the head of the American bar.

Edwards was convicted and sentenced to ten years' imprisonment, mainly upon the testimony of Recorder Vaux. At the close of the trial the prisoner, with studied politeness, looked Mr. Vaux piercingly in the eyes. "I am glad to have this opportunity of speaking to you," he said. "I want to say one thing to you that is important for you to remember. I am going to kill you the moment I come out of Sing Sing. I give you this notice as from one gentleman to another."

"I am very thankful to you, Colonel Edwards," replied the recorder, with the same politeness, "for giving me this timely notice. It is very gentlemanly of you to do so. I will give you the opportunity at any time you desire. I have only done my duty and am prepared to take the consequences. I only ask of you that when you make the attempt you will look me in the face."

As Mr. Vaux said these words he gazed fixedly into the forger's face. The man turned white and trembled, for he read in his captor's countenance the justifiable determination to kill him should he ever dare to face him after his release. Not another word was spoken between them, for at that moment the officers led the prisoner away. He never attempted to carry his threat into effect, for he died in prison in January, 1847.

As a sequel to the trial came the duel between Tom Marshall and Colonel James Watson Webb. Marshall was a member of congress at the time of the Edwards trial, and for defending the brilliant criminal at the same time that he was a representative of the American people in Washington he was severely criticised by Colonel James Watson Webb in the columns of the New York Courier and Enquirer, of which journal that gentleman was the editor. In his address to the jury Marshall answered the newspaper criticism in that bitter style of invective of which he was the master. This led to a challenge and a meeting on the so called "field of honor." The congressman shot the famous editor in the knee and lamed him for life. — Cincinnati Enquirer.

A Mystery Solved

1895

She stands on a street corner in the rain. One hand upholds an umbrella and the other grasps her skirts. She glances down to see that they escape the slush and at the same time cover her shoe tops. Simultaneously her umbrella tilts over, knocks her hat to one side and lets the rain drive down her neck. She straightens herself quickly; also her hat. In the meantime one side of her skirt hangs at half mast, while the other drags under her heel. Now she nods her head haughtily, as if bowing to a distant acquaintance down the avenue. Evidently the salute is not recognized, for she looks surprised and nods again. Now she stares hard and bobs her head vigorously. Her hat slides around over her head, and she looks mad. Now she joggles her umbrella up and down in the air and glares wildly. If expression counts for anything, she would evidently like to swear. She drops her skirts and waves the other hand vigorously. Finally she lowers her umbrella and breaks into a scurrying gallop across the street. It is a woman trying to catch a cable car. — Washington Post.


No Cheese For Lunch

It is wretchedly bad form to serve cheese and wafers at luncheon, although one often sees it done. They are alone permissible with the dessert of a dinner, never of a lunch. — Philadelphia Press.


Festival

A midwinter festival was known and observed in Europe long before the Christmas era.

An Uncanny Spot

1895

The Mystery That Hovers O'er the Scene of a Georgia Tragedy.

It is a curious fact not generally known, but it is nevertheless true, that in Newton county the ground about the place where the body of the late G. W. Jones was found after he was assassinated some six years ago is perfectly barren and clean and has been so ever since that terrible event occurred.

The place in the woods at Newton and the identical spot where the body lay is marked with a stake. Around this stake for a distance of from 8 to 12 feet no grass or weeds have grown since that time, neither has there been any accumulation of leaves or other trash upon it from its surrounding trees, although the ground all about it is covered with them.

In fact, the ground on which the body lay when found is as clean as if it was swept with a broom and is as barren of grass and weeds as the middle of a public street.

Now, the question is, What is the cause of this singular phenomenon? Why is the spot barren, and why is it the leaves falling from the surrounding trees do not settle upon it the same as they do all around it? It is certainly rather singular and mysterious that nothing grows or remains upon that particular spot.

Perhaps it may yet lead to the discovery of the assassin of Mr. Jones. — Atlanta Constitution.

Why Did Mackey Shoot Kuene?

New York, 1895

Patrick Mackey lives at Morris Park. On Sunday he was visited by Julius Kuene, a grocer doing business in Myrtle avenue, Brooklyn. In the evening Mackey accompanied Kuene to Brooklyn. Late in the night Kuene was taken to St. Catherine's hospital, Williamsburgh, Suffering from two bullet wounds, one which entered the base of the skull, and will probably prove fatal. The shots were fired by Patrick Mackey.

Mackey had disappeared, and all traces of him were lost. An ambulance surgeon removed the dying man to the hospital.

The cause of the shooting is at present a mystery.

Mackey was formerly a policy dealer in Brooklyn and kept several establishments. He was probably under the impression that Kuene told the police, and that in consequence he was driven out of the business.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, N.Y., Jan. 18, 1895, unknown page number.

Eugene Leroy Sought as Slayer of His Wife

1920

Arrest of Man in Mexico Seems to Solve Trunk Mystery.

DETROIT, Michigan. — Eugene Leroy, sought as the slayer of Katherine Jackson Leroy, whose mutilated body was shipped from Detroit to New York in a trunk June 10, and Oscar J. Fernandez are the same person. Twelve persons who knew Leroy here positively identified pictures of Fernandez received from San Antonio, Texas, as those of the man they knew.

Among those who identified the pictures were Patrolman Trumbull and his wife and the Pfister couple, and with whom the Leroys lived here.

The man known as Leroy is being sought on a charge of first-degree murder. These steps followed a dispatch from New York that Mrs. Leo Trumbull, wife of a Detroit policeman, had identified the body as that of the woman she had known as "Mrs. Eugene Leroy."

A warrant was immediately issued here for the arrest of "Eugene Leroy, alias O. J. Wood, alias O. J. Fernandez," for first-degree murder.

Then, via San Antonio, came word that Oscar J. Fernandez, believed to be Leroy, was under arrest at Saltillo, state of Coahuila, Mexico. Steps have been taken to extradite him.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Aug. 7, 1920, p. 2.

Dilworth Family Tagged By Murder

1916

NEW YORK LAWYER FIFTH IN LINE TO BE SLAIN.

Mother of Man Murdered in East Tells of the Series of Violent Deaths.

KANSAS CITY, Missouri — The murder of Dwight P. Dilworth, a New York lawyer, formerly of this city, while driving his motor car thru Van Cortlandt Park in New York City, is the last of a series of five murders in the Dilworth family that began in Civil War times. All of the deaths have been caused by assassins. Three of the murdered men were uncles of Dilworth and the other his father.

Mrs. William P. Dilworth, mother of the man murdered in New York told about the hand of fate that has pursued her husband's family and that has almost wiped out the masculine line of the family. Mrs. Dilworth has been visiting her sister, Mrs. Chas. Clark of this city.

"It began during the Civil War," Mrs. Dilworth said, "when George Dilworth, a lieutenant in the Federal Army, was shot by a 'sniper' while he was delivering a message. He had never been injured in battle, and the war was then about over. He was killed while on a mission of peace. We never learned who killed him. That was the first of the series of fatalities that nearly wiped out my husband's family.

"James Dilworth, a ranchman in Montana, was the next to die. He had upbraided one of his cowboys for failing to cut some hay, and that night the cowboy half crazed with liquor, waited for James and killed him. Thomas Dilworth walked into a hotel at Fort Scott, Kan., one afternoon to attend a meeting.

"Two men were quarreling and one drew a revolver and fired at the other. The bullet missed the man shot at and struck my brother-in-law. He died immediately.

William Slain by a Robber.

"My husband, William P. Dilworth, was next. On Thanksgiving morning, ten years ago, he went to his store to open it. We were living in Oklahoma City then. He was counting his cash when a man walked in the store and commanded him to throw up his hands. There never was a Dilworth living that could ever raise his hands above his shoulders, and my husband was killed as a result. The man who killed him is now serving a life term in the penitentiary.

"The only one of my husband's family now living is Richard Dilworth, a minister in Pennsylvania. He escaped death by a miracle. He was a missionary in Alaska years ago, and was a very bitter enemy of the whisky element. He always talked prohibition. After an extremely bitter attack on liquor in a small mining town one night he was waylaid and assaulted. He was left for dead. He was found by friends and recovered."

Mrs. Dilworth has always feared the fate that seemed to follow the family.

"We often talked about it," she said, "and often wondered who would he next. I would laugh at the boys and tell them it was only a string of coincidences, because I didn't want them to worry.

"But down in my heart I was always sure that it would follow us, and it has."

Mrs. Dilworth, the wife of Dwight P. Dilworth, was visiting in this city when her husband was slain in New York. She was accompanied here by her 3-year-old son, Dwight P. Dilworth, Jr.

Mrs. Dilworth has no idea who killed her husband. She said he didn't have any enemies that she knew of and had never received any threats. She said the young woman who accompanied him probably was either one of his clients or a friend of some of their friends. Dilworth's funeral and burial was at Fort Scott, Kan., Friday.

Mrs. Dilworth left immediately afterward for the East to settle Dilworth's business affairs and help the police in the puzzle of the Golf Links road tragedy.

Like Cliff Drive Slaying.

The murder of Dwight P. Dilworth while motoring with a young woman in a lonely by-path in Van Cortlandt Park in New York City, according to accounts in New York papers, has many of the aspects of the shooting of motorists on Cliff Drive in Kansas City a year or two ago. The circumstances leading up to the attack on Dilworth were identical with those of the Cliff Drive cases.

For weeks a band of young men have been haunting the road which was the scene of the New York crime, terrorizing motorists, but, despite this, the road has not been properly policed, according to the New York papers.

Within 400 feet of the road is the Mosholu Parkway, a much traveled highway, and locally known as "Lovers' Lane," yet no one heard the shots that killed Dilworth. A railroad watchman near the scene heard no shots and was informed of the crime by Miss Mary McNiff, Dilworth's companion, who came to his shanty to seek aid. The road is a secluded one and has been the scene of a number of robberies recently, the last one occurring a week before the murder.

The story of Miss McNiff has been substantiated by police investigation and they are positive that she knows nothing more of the murder than given in her first statement.

Two theories are being advanced by the police as an explanation of the mystery of the murder — one that the two men were highwaymen, and the second that Dilworth was murdered by enemies who were responsible for the large number of similar casualties in his family.

--------------------

Three Arrested as Suspects.

NEW YORK. — Police engaged in solving the Dilworth murder case arrested Bernard Decio, 21 years old, near the scene of the shooting. Tony Gadina was arrested in Mount Vernon following a hold-up there, and George Teyden, who was with Gadina at the time of his arrest, also is held.

Stories have come to light of Dilworth's life. The police were told he had a wide acquaintance in theatrical circles. They were also told of Dilworth's fondness for women, which ended in his forced withdrawal from a firm here.

That Dilworth was well known along Broadway and in its resorts became known when "Dolly" Rogers, an actress, said she had introduced Dilworth to Mary McNiff, who was his companion on the night of the crime.

Jealousy of some of Broadway's women is being put forward as a possible cause for the murder.

"Dolly" Rogers, however, expressed the opinion to detectives that "Dear old Dwight" might have been murdered by private detectives frightened out of their caution while trying to "get something on him."

A new witness is a woman who claims to have seen "a woman in a large hat" running from the scene of the crime just after the shots were fired.

Miss McNiff was in the district attorney's office three hours in the afternoon retelling the story of the crime. She could identify none of the three men now under arrest.

The autopsy showed it was possible that only one pistol was used, instead of the two Miss McNiff said she believed she saw. The body had three wounds. The first was a mere chin-scrape.

Miss McNiff said Dilworth phoned the apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Eugene Corwin, where she lived, asking that the Corwins and Miss McNiff go for an automobile ride, the girl said. Mrs. Corwin was out of town, she said, and as Corwin was ill she consented to go with Dilworth alone.

Wife Denies Reports.

Mrs. Dwight P. Dilworth still has absolute confidence in her husband. Statements that Dilworth was fond of other women and bohemian companions were indignantly denied by his widow. She declared it absurd that Dilworth ever returned to his home in Montclair, N. J., in an intoxicated condition, or that he ever associated with women other than relatives and friends of the family outside of business hours.

"It is absolutely ridiculous," Mrs. Dilworth declared. "My husband never came home intoxicated and I knew all his women friends. But even if it were true, do you think I would tell it? Do you think I am such a fool as to try to blacken my husband's name after he is dead? I do not believe a woman killed my husband. and I know nothing on which to base such a belief."

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 4.

A Lost Freight Car

1901

It Disappeared From the Middle of the Train

The mysterious disappearance of freight car No. 4849 from the center of a moving train between way stations on the Santa Fe road made a lot of trouble for two train crews in last March and puzzled the officials of the road not a little. The car was loaded with fruit for the eastern market and dropped out of sight midway on the journey without damage to the rest of the train and without any one having seen it go. Tracers were sent out, but the car was not to be found on siding or in depot yard.

The tracers' reports showed that the car had been loaded with select oranges on a spur leading to a well known fruit packer's establishment in the San Gabriel Valley, California. It was a new car, equipped with all the modern cold storage appliances. It was joined to a train of cars of the same class, all loaded with fruit and all destined for the same market.

The heavy train had wound its way without incident over the Sierra Madre and the Sierra Nevadas, up the gradual slopes, across the continental divide, through many villages and over sagebush plains and sandy deserts. It had toiled through eastern California, Arizona and a part of New Mexico, it had climbed the rugged steeps of the Rockies, plunged into and through the, great tunnel at the crest of that range and started on its downward flight to Trinidad.

That was as far as the tracers had been able to track it, for in Baton, a division station on the Santa Fe, No. 4849 had been noted in the conductor's report when the train was turned over to a new crew. Yet when the train reached Trinidad No. 4849 was missing, and no trace of it could be found between Trinidad and Baton. For all that the tracers knew, No. 4849 might have been whisked up into the air by balloon and transported to some foreign land.

A lot of discharges had been made out for the members of the two freight crews, and there was trouble in the air, threats of strikes and all that sort of thing because of the injustice done to the men, when suddenly the mystery was cleared up. A cowboy reported a strange find on his range, and it turned out to be the missing freight car. No. 4849 was lying at the base of a precipitous cliff in a thicket of underbrush, with its sides distended, its roof bulging and a confused mass of choice oranges appearing through the clefts of its wrecked outlines. The car was on its side, dismounted from its trucks, a mass of ruins, with its contents preserved by the crisp mountain air under a cloudless sky.

The train, in its rapid descent at sharp curve, had broken the flanges of a set of wheels, and the car was thrown from the track.

Bumping over the rough roadbed and ties had detached the couplings at either end, and the disabled car rolled down the stoop embankment to the valley, hundreds of feet below. The train being on the down grade, the rear section soon closed up the gap, and by means of the automatic couplers had again become attached to the front section, all unknown to the train crew. Thus No. 4849 dropped out of account, leaving its disappearance a deep mystery. — New York Press.

The Wonders About Us

1910

Let not care and humdrum deaden us to the wonders and mysteries amid which we live, nor to the splendors and glories. We need not translate ourselves in imagination to some other sphere or state of being to find the marvelous, the divine, the transcendent; we need not postpone our day of wonder and appreciation to some future time and condition. The true inwardness of this gross visible world hanging like an apple on the bough of the great cosmic tree, and swelling with all the juices and potencies of life, transcends anything we have dreamed of superterrestrial abodes. — John Burroughs.

Harry Potter Leaves Picnic, Attempts Suicide

Pennsylvania, 1935

Harry Potter, Well-Known Karthaus Man, Said To Have Shot Self Twice

Suffering from what was reported to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound below the heart, Harry Potter, aged about 28, son of the late Mr. and Mrs. W. B. Potter of Karthaus, is a patient today in the Philipsburg State Hospital in a serious condition. Reports from that institution early this afternoon stated his condition was "very grave."

The tragic affair, which has been a distinct shock to the little community where the Potter family has held the esteem and respect of their fellow townsmen for many years, occurred at the home of George Potter, older brother of the victim, where the latter was staying, sometime early last evening.

According to reports received here, Harry Potter attended the Frenchville picnic during the afternoon and in company with some friends went to his home at Karthaus late in the afternoon. His brother and family was away when Harry arrived home and the first knowledge of the tragedy was when a neighbor boy, Abner Rolley, heard two shots. He rushed into the Potter home and found Harry unconscious with a bullet wound below the heart, apparently self-inflicted by a .38-calibre revolver which was nearby. The Rolley boy also found the Potter dog shot to death and from the mute evidence found in the house it was assumed the young man shot his dog before turning the gun on himself.

What may have prompted the young man to make an attempt on his own life is a mystery to the people of the community in which he lived and where he was known so well. He is single and has never been known to have any serious home worries. Also, reports from Karthaus today stated the young man had never shown a despondent disposition and his friends are at a loss to understand his untimely act.

—The Clearfield Progress, Clearfield, PA, Aug. 23, 1935, p. 1.

The Polka Dot

1919

Because in 1835 a Bohemian peasant girl danced a new step in a little village near the Polish border a Hungarian dancing master introduced it in Europe under the name of Polka, which is the feminine of Polak or Pole. By 1844, at the time James K. Polk was running for the presidency, the dance had spread to America and the name "Polk" and the word "Polka" formed a coincidence at once appealing to everyone. The manufacturers, merchants and designers immediately presented Polka hats, Polka shoes, Polka gauze and the "newest design in fabrics for gentlewomen."


Pretty Smart Chickens

A recent morning a Missouri farmer placed three crates of chickens and five bushels of potatoes in his trailer, hitched the trailer to his automobile and started for town. He was almost there when he discovered he had no trailer. He found he had parted company with it a quarter of a mile from home, and when he got back to it the crates were empty and the potatoes frozen.

He presumed, of course, the chickens had been stolen, and was greatly surprised when he went to the henhouse early next day after breakfast to find every one of the chickens there. Not one was missing. They had all returned home, but how they got out of the crates probably will always remain a mystery.

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."

Stone Man Dug Up in Rio Grande Valley

1915

Deep Mystery Still Veils Queer Find

Now in Warehouse to Await Decision of Scientists — Cartridge Shell Found Near Body

El Paso, Texas, is now likely to get some publicity as a result of the discovery of the form of a man in stone in the Rio Grande Valley. The discovery was made by J. K. Mann of Highland Park, who is rather reticent regarding the exact location of his find.

Mr. Mann is taking great care of his find and it is kept in a bonded warehouse in El Paso and is guarded as carefully as would be an equal amount of virgin gold.

Opening a heavy case containing his discovery, Mr. Mann said that what he would show the writer would be in the nature of a surprise. The scribe then put a query, "What is it?"

"That's just the question, What is it?" said Mr. Mann. "I am making absolutely no claim regarding it. I will simply say that it was dug up from the ground and that it is a Texas product. I have my own ideas what it is, but they may not be in line with what learned men will tell us later, and I am anxious to have their opinions."

Has Human Form

Turning back the covering, Mr. Mann disclosed what appeared to be a human form in some sort of bronze. The writer was then given a chance to make a careful inspection and it was seen that the body — for that is the easiest way to refer to the discovery — was not bronze, but apparently stone.

A close inspection revealed lines and pores similar to those in a human skin. Part of the abdomen was missing and the cavity bore the look of a piece of stone broken away. In the left breast was an indention, and Mr. Mann produced an old and much rusted cartridge, which, he declared, was found near the body when it was dug up.

This cartridge was evidently from a large-bore gun and was made in the days when the whole base of the cartridge was a cap, which would be discharged by the hammer of the gun hitting it anywhere, This cap had been discharged by a gun with a strong hammer, for the firing pin had been driven thru the cap.

Right Hand Has Extra Finger

The "body" is in a reclining position, the left arm supporting the head, while the right arm is thrown across the breast and the hand rests in front of the "body." One peculiarity of the "body" is that the right hand has two perfectly formed index fingers — five fingers and a thumb in all. The lips have been slightly worn away and three white teeth are visible. If the "body" is that of a human being turned to stone it must have been that of a young man, probably 18 or 19 years of age, and of a person used to outdoor or a rugged life. The sinews of both arms and legs are quite apparent. The hips are small, but well developed.

Measurements Given

Accurate measurements were rather difficult, owing to the peculiar posture of the "body." However, the following are approximately correct: Height, 5 feet 6 inches; present weight, 350 pounds; approximate estimate of weight of man similarly built, 120 pounds; measurement around chest, 35 inches; between shoulders at back, 18 inches; across chest, 16 inches; from shoulder to wrist, 22½ inches; wrist, 7½ inches; neck, 14½ inches; around head above ears, 23 inches; feet, from heel to toe, 9½ inches; knee to heel, 17½ inches; biceps, 12 inches; around knee, 13½ inches; around hips 36 inches; from instep to crotch, 29 inches; waist, 28 inches.

Questioned closely as to the whereabouts of the discovery, Mr. Mann stated: "I have my own reasons for not being too explicit regarding the exact location of my discovery. I have reason to believe that there are further discoveries to be made in that same location.

"I am in El Paso for my health, and I hope to resume my explorations within a couple of months. Just what I will do with my discovery I cannot say at the present time. I intend to have some experts examine it in the near future, and make a report. Very few people know of it at the present time, but those who do know have been impressed."

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

Comb World In Vain for Arnold Girl

Dec. 1915

Relatives Give Up Hope as Five Years Pass Without Trace

Folks Wear Mourning

Disappeared Five Years Ago This Week

Following is the order of Dorothy Arnold's actions December 12, 1910, so far as known up to the time of her disappearance:
11:30 A. M. — Left her home at 108 East Seventy-ninth street, New York, telling her mother she intended to buy a new dress.
12:00 Noon. — Bought a box of candy at Fifth avenue and Fifty-ninth street.
2:00 P. M. — Bought a book at Brentano's and had it charged, altho she had between $20 and $30 in her purse when she left her home two hours and a half earlier.
2:45 P. M. — Met a girl friend at Fifth avenue, near Thirtieth street.
2:50 P. M. — ? ? ? ? ?

NEW YORK, Dec. 16. — Five years ago this week Miss Dorothy Arnold vanished so completely that no detective in the world has been able to discover a clew to her whereabouts or her fate.

"What happened to Dorothy Arnold?" is a question that has been asked in every house where newspapers printed in any language are read.

For answer such men as William J. Flynn, now head of the United States Secret Service; Sir E. R. Henry, chief of Scotland Yard; William J. Burns, George S. Dougherty, former deputy police commissioner in charge of the New York detectives; Joseph A. Faurot, present chief of detectives, and Lieut. Grant Williams, who as the director of the New York police department's bureau of missing persons, has investigated thousands of strange disappearances, give the reply that they are at a loss for a way to fathom the mystery.

If Dead, Where Is Body?

Dorothy Arnold was last seen, so far as is known to the police or other investigators, at Fifth avenue and Thirtieth street, on Monday, Dec. 12, 1910. The time was 3 o'clock in the afternoon or a few minutes earlier.

The aged father of the missing girl, who has spent many thousands of dollars to search every city in the world by wireless, cable, telegraph, telephone, mail and detectives, wears as a silent answer to the query of Dorothy's fate a wide mourning band on his hat, a mourning necktie and a suit of black. He is a wealthy importer of French and Russian perfumes.

"She is dead," he said to reporters this week.

"But where is her body?" is the question asked by trained investigators.

"Any morgue keeper in the entire country would at once take notice of a woman dressed in expensive lingerie or clothing," Lieutenant Williams says, in discussing the statistics of his bureau, which show that on the average one woman a year is left unidentified.

Description of Dorothy Arnold.

Dorothy Arnold on Dec. 12, 1910, when she went away from her home, was 26 years old. She was about 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighed in the neighborhood of 140 pounds.

She was of striking appearance; her complexion was bright, her hair was dark brown and her eyes were grayish blue.

She wore a tailor-made blue serge suit and a black velvet hat trimmed with two silk roses.

The hat had inscribed in its lining the name of a fashionable milliner. Similarly, the name of the maker was embroidered on the tailor-made underwear which the young woman wore.

In her hand bag Miss Arnold carried about $20 or $30; yet she asked the clerk in Park & Tilford's Fifth avenue and Fifty-ninth street store to charge a pound of candy, and requested the cashier in Brentano's store to send her father the bill for a book — "An Engaged Girl's Sketches" — which she bought within a few hours after she was last seen by her mother.

Search Made All Over World.

The search for Dorothy Arnold has never been equaled for thoroughness. Here was the case of a mature young woman, highly educated, to a degree literary, and physically strong enough to balk any attempt at kidnaping. She was not in the habit of "slumming" or doing "settlement work," but, on the contrary, was more inclined to afternoon visits to such places as Sherry's restaurant and the Plaza tearoom. Her evenings were mostly spent in the company of her relatives or near friends. For almost six weeks following the disappearance of Dorothy the search was conducted along "confidential" lines. Her father, the descendant of a proud New England family, which traces its lineage back to the landing of the Pilgrims, loathed publicity. Her mother, a Canadian by birth and highly sensitive, equally abhorred the thought of letting the prying eyes of the public get a glimpse into the family circle.

The Man in Her Life.

There was a man in Dorothy Arnold's life. A few months preceding her disappearance the "affair" was such that it became a matter of family discussion. The first act after the young woman failed to respond to advertisements inserted in the personal columns of newspapers was to communicate by wireless with steamships bound for Europe. Then detectives were sent to Pittsburgh, Pa., to find out where George S. Griscom, a 44-year-old engineer, was staying at that time.

Griscom was in Florence, Italy. And there Mrs. Arnold hastened to confront him with the story of her daughter's disappearance. Even at the time of her sailing, the Arnolds were determined not to take any more persons than absolutely necessary into their confidence. Arnold had written to his brother in Germany a letter saying that a "terrible calamity had befallen the family," but they "did not wish to spoil their Christmas holiday by telling about it." As Mrs. Arnold sailed her husband cabled briefly to his brother telling him to furnish her with funds if needed.

Like the public, Dorothy Arnold's uncle and aunt got the first intimation of what had happened on the morning of Jan. 26, 1911, when the story of the disappearance appeared in all the newspapers of the leading cities of the United States and Europe. Deputy Police Commissioner Flynn, now chief of the Secret Service, on the day before told Arnold that his detectives had to have the aid of the newspapers. The "confidential" search had failed.

At the same time that the reporters were asked to aid the family. Word of Mrs. Arnold's visit to Florence and her meeting there with Griscom was kept a secret. "She is too sick to be seen," was the only explanation offered when reporters inquired for her. Two days later, however, it became known that George S. Griscom "was the man in the case." It then became known that the young woman less than two months before she left her family had been in Boston, where, according to the records of a loan company, she had obtained $60 for a quantity of jewelry that had been pawned.

George Griscom was Boston at the time, but if he and Dorothy met there at the time the information was never communicated to the public. It was admitted Dorothy on her return to New York rented a mail box in the general postoffice and that she quite regularly corresponded with Griscom. The letters she wrote him were in his possession the day Mrs. Arnold and her elder son John, saw him in Florence. As she demanded them John Arnold felled Griscom with a blow on the jaw. Then a promise was exacted from Griscom that he would never reveal the contents of the letters. Griscom has until this day kept his word as far as known.

Mrs. Arnold, on entering the lower bay on the steamship Pannonia, received a message from her attorneys and her two sons, John and D. Hinckley, met her at the pier. On their advice she declined to go into any details of her daughter's disappearance. John Arnold, in an interview with the then District Attorney Whitman, six days after the arrival of his mother from Italy, said he was convinced that Dorothy had committed suicide. He did not suggest that she might have met with foul play, nor did he ask for a grand jury investigation of her disappearance.

House in Pittsburgh Raided.

That the family lawyers at first shared with the detectives the belief that Dorothy Arnold bought a box of candy and a book with the intention of passing away time while riding on a railroad train was evident some time after the investigation was under way when John Keith, head of the Arnolds' legal representatives, said he had searched a sanitarium on the outskirts of Pittsburgh which was raided in April, 1913, by the Pittsburgh County authorities, who charged its proprietor with the death of a young woman who had been missing from her home for nearly a year.

A few days after this raid and the mention in the newspapers of Dorothy's name in connection with the investigation of the place, Arnold sent for the reporters and invited them to go thru his East Seventy-ninth street house from cellar to garret. He repeated his belief that his daughter would never be found.

The police records show that of the women who are daily reported as missing there are but few who, under any compulsion, give up the luxuries of homes so that they may wander about as fancy dictates. Some go away because of quarrels, others because they tire of being "pampered" by indulgent mothers, brothers and sisters, and others want to get away from the scene of some lovers' quarrel.

Dorothy Arnold was a girl of romantic ideas. She incorporated some of these in manuscripts, hoping to have them published. She was a graduate of Bryn Mawr, and after her schooling she began writing novels — which were never published.

——————

Did Dorothy Arnold take her family into her confidence? Has everything been told? Has any evidence been found to point to the theory that she is dead? Could she have been murdered and her body disposed of? Was there a suggested motive for murder? Did she by act or word suggest a reason for leaving home? These questions have been asked by the leading detectives of the world.

—Saturday Blade, Chicago, Dec. 18, 1915, p. 3.

Note: The case was never solved.

Threw Wife Over Cliff; Hurled Dog After Her

1915

Husband Did This, Says Man Who Helped Him

Confesses They Took Mrs. Frederick T. Price to Lonely Spot, Gave Her Fling Over Embankment

—————
CONSIDERED SIGNIFICANT

Mrs. Frederick T. Price met her death in a mysterious manner Nov. 28, 1914, one day after she had been given $60,000 by her father.
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MINNEAPOLIS, Minn., Dec. 16. — Confessing, according to George Armstrong, county prosecutor of Hennepin County, Minnesota, that he aided Fredrick T. Price of Minneapolis in hurling Price's wife to death over a cliff, Charles D. Etchison, a traveling salesman of Washington, D. C., is in Minneapolis where he must face legal action.

Etchison was arrested in Washington by operatives of a private detective agency and was brought here. Accompanying him was Armstrong, who announced that the prisoner had confessed.

"Mrs. Price was the daughter of David B. Fridley, member of one of the oldest Minneapolis families," Etchison is reported to have said in his confession, "and the day after she got the money, she and Price and I went to a matinee. Later Price suggested an auto ride.

"She sat in the rear with her dog — Price and I in front. Price stopped the ear near a steep embankment. He muttered something about tire trouble, and asked his wife if she didn't want to get out and give the dog some exercise.

Threw Wife Over Cliff.

"As Mrs. Price stepped out, Price put one arm in front of her, and I put an arm in front and we gave a fling. Down she went. Price picked up the dog and threw it after his wife."

When they climbed down the embankment, Etchison is reported to have said, they found the woman still alive and Price struck her head with a stone.

"We told everybody that she stepped over the cliff to save her dog," the officials said Etchison confessed. "Price canceled my notes for $1,200 he held and gave me $3,500 to boot."

—————

"I deny it all. I swear it is not true," declared Fredrick T. Price, when told in his cell at the county jail of the confession of Charles D. Etchison, that he aided Price in the murder of the latter's wife Nov. 28, 1914. "I do not care to say anything further except to reiterate that the confession is not true."

Price was indicted by the county grand jury for bigamy and murder.

After his wife's death Price sued the city of Minneapolis for $7,500 for leaving the river bank unprotected where he said his wife had fallen over. A detective revealed that Price had been married twice before and he dismissed his suit.

Last Christmas Price married Miss Carrie Olson, a Minneapolis bookkeeper. While his wife was living, it is said, he promised Miss Olson to get a divorce. It is charged he did not get a divorce from one of his three wives.

—Saturday Blade, Chicago, Dec. 18, 1915, p. 11.

Note: Price was convicted of the murder by a jury in district court, Minneapolis, in Jan. 1916. Etchison repeated the substance of his confession from December.

The Hand Upon the Jail Wall

1896

Upon the wall of cell No. 7, in the County Jail at Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania, is the imprint of a man's hand, which would not attract attention were it not for the strange story connected with it — a story which can be vouched for by many of the town's citizens.

Alexander Campbell, of Lansford, was an occupant of the cell in June, 1877. The Mollie Maguires were holding their reign of terror throughout the coal regions at that time and he was arrested and sentenced to be hanged in connection with the murder of John P. Jones. He stoutly asserted his innocence, and it was only through the confessions of his comrades in crime that he was convicted. The night before he was hanged he stood on his cot, and, it is said, placing his hand upon the wall, he declared that in proof of his innocence the imprint would remain upon the wall forever. The impression of the hand can be as plainly seen now as if placed there yesterday, though the walls have been whitewashed often.

The phenomenon has been viewed by many, but none of them has been able to suggest a plausible solution of the mystery.

The cell is regarded with awe by the prisoners in the jail, and if any of them become unruly the warden has only to threaten them with a night in cell No. 7. — New York Herald.

Quips on The News — "A Boston Spinster"

1911

A Boston spinster wants a five-dollar tax on bachelors. But surely she would not have any man value her so cheaply that he would marry her to save a paltry five.

Harvard astronomers have discovered a new star, but as said star is not one of the football variety, the discovery is not making much of a hit with the students.

"Chicago is a burglar's paradise," says a jurist who is in a position to know. Aside from that and a few other defects it is a good place to live in if one isn't particular.

Europe has now definitely decided that Tolstoi was insane. This may be true, but it seems as though a little more of that sort of insanity wouldn't hurt Europe any.

If the fashion of wearing tight trousers and padless coats comes into general use we know a great many supposedly brawny men who will dwindle woefully in appearance.

Many readers of newspapers have wondered at the meaning of those oft-repeated words found at the end of mysterious disappearance stories: "Detectives have been assigned to the case."

The Oldest Mystery — The Swastika

1922

The Swastika is the oldest symbol in the world. Also, it is the oldest mystery. You find it engraved on primitive tools, dug up in the mounds of the Ohio, Tennessee and Mississippi mound-builders, who inhabited America, before the Indians. The Swastika also is found in the most ancient ruins of Alaska, Mexico, Brazil, Egypt, Babylonia, China, Japan, India, Assyria, Phoenicia, Persia, Tibet, Greece — and nearly every other country in the world, including obscure islands. It is the international symbol for good luck and general welfare — like our horseshoe, the negro's rabbit-foot and the "chung-meng-fui-goi" sign that is painted on the door of nearly every Chinese home.

The Swastika's origin is unknown. But archaeologists, the ditch-diggers of science, have traced it back to the beginning of the Bronze Age, 4500 years ago. For all we know, the Swastika may have been old then. How did it spread over the earth and become known in countries that are supposed to have had no knowledge of each other in ancient times?

The only plausible explanation of the universal use of the Swastika comes from China. The Chinese — who claim that their explorer, Fu-sang, visited America 1060 years before Columbus — believe that civilization travels in an endless wave — up 30,000 years, then down 30,000, so on forever. That's why Chinese mythology tells of "flying men" far back in antiquity.

The earth may be 1,700,000,000 years old, says Prof. William Duane, of Harvard Medical School. He bases his calculation on radioactivity. Regardless of the number of years, queer things are buried back there in the past, as shown by the Swastika, the oldest mystery.

—The La Crosse Tribune, La Crosse, Wisconsin, May 27, 1922, p. 3.

Hair Cut Off As She Slept

Printed Jan. 1915

Girl Awakes to Find Her Tresses, the Family's Pride, Gone — Act of Revenge

Orange, N. J. — When Mary Carnova, the thirteen-year-old daughter of Antonio Carnova of 12 Forest street, Orange, awoke one morning recently she found that her long black hair, which was of exceptional beauty and the pride of the family, had been cut off. She did not know how or when she had been despoiled.

The police arrested Polo Cripsy, aged fifty-one, a boarder at the Carnova home, but Carnova would not believe Cripsy was guilty, and the charge against him was dismissed. Chief of Police Drabell believes that the hair was cut off for revenge by some enemy of the girl's father.


To Mend Celluloid

Any article made of celluloid may be mended with collodion. Scratch the broken edges to be mended with a sharp knife until a smooth surface is secured. Apply the collodion and press tightly together for several minutes. Let stand for at least twenty-four hours. Liquid court plaster will answer as well, since the main ingredient is collodion.

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.

A Spacescape (poetry) — The Mysterious Sea of Cryptic Xanadu

1907

A Spacescape

Beside the white mysterious sea
Of cryptic Xanadu,
My Sophie walked abroad with me
To rubber at the view.

"We've never seen a view like this!"
Cried Sophie — "My, oh my!"
And really 'twas a view, I wis,
To catch a lady's eye.

There was no sun or moon to heed,
No clouds went sailing by,
No stars were in the sky — indeed,
There wasn't any sky.

Our eyes fell on no hills or trees,
No stand or turf was there,
And all the landscape, if you please,
Consisted just of air.

We did not firmly tread the ground —
The ground to tread was not —
And how we two could get around
I really have forgot.

No other tourists, rich or poor,
Were in sight anywhere —
Indeed I am not very sure
That even we were there.

—Richmond Times-Dispatch.