Slippery Rock War On Vice, Street Walkers, Debauchery

Pennsylvania, 1913

Sun Calls Upon Citizens to Rise in Their Might and Stamp Out Social Evil

Slippery Rock is in sore need of social house cleaning. In it are festering sores of licentiousness which are spreading so rapidly that the clean and whole part of its body is in danger of infection from the loathsome suppuration. The Sun has been importuned by some people to turn on the light of publicity in an effort to stop the growth of social evil in our midst. Still more people have cautioned silence on the ground that publicity of our shame would "give the town a bad name."

We have come to the point where the town, has a bad name because the people who practice lasciviousness have not been rebuked for their crimes against morality and decency. Emboldened by the evident desire to brush and gloss over their rottenness, the lecherous slaves of a brute passion give little heed to the opinions or sentiments of the moral and virtuous majority and nightly practice their soulless and lustful business.

For years a bunch of girls who have forgotten how to blush have been street walkers and dissolutes, loitering on corners and about public places seeking their mates in the hellish business of social depravity. A brood of nameless illegitimate children are the fruits of their shameless crimes. We have all sympathy for the unfortunate girl who falls because of her love and trust in a lecherous and brutal man, but when in brazen disregard of her own shame or the moral rights of her associates, she persists in the practice of her infamy and seeks to draw mere children, perhaps her own fatherless ones, into the life of virtueless debauchery, even the broad mantle of Christian charity is scarcely able to cover her sin. from such a school was graduated the poor girl who paid the penalty of her shame with her life a few months ago and the recital of which calamity in the public press brought a blush to everyone who owned Slippery Rock as a habitat.

But not alone is the street walker to blame for the condition in our town that is a stench in the nostrils of decency. People who enjoy position in the social, business and church life of the community, have so far forgotten man and womanhood, the marital vows and a sense of moral obligation that they have put themselves on a plane with the back alley dissolutes. And their crimes are greater, because they not only debauch their own moral natures, but invade the homes of neighbors, bringing the horror of undeserved shame upon the innocent wife or husband who learns of the detection of her or his unfaithful mate.

After much deliberation and conferring with those who are working for the moral uplift of the community, The Sun has decided that the only way to stop the obscene and vulgar practice is to turn the spotlight on those who are persistently guilty. Hereafter any scandal touching on the social evil will be printed, and with it the names of the participants, be they street walkers, church workers, business or professional people; not because it is scandal, but that the right kind of publicity may warn the passion slaves that their underworld actions will be shown in the broad light of day. Such a campaign will be more dangerous to dissolute husbands and faithless wives than to the unmarried lawbreakers and that is as it should be. — Slippery Rock Sun.

—Reprinted in New Castle News, New Castle, PA, Oct. 31, 1913, p. 10.

Truth Plays False as Divine Healer

1901

Offers Kisses for the Fair Sex

Denver's Divine Healer Rakes in Coin by Practice Until Gathered in by Authorities

Denver, Col., July 23 — Francis Truth, alias William A. Bennis, was arrested here on complaint of Edith Sampson, who charges him with obtaining money by false pretenses and with practicing medicine without a license.

Truth poses as a divine healer, advertised extensively, and offers treatment free, but those who fail to make a "free will offering" have to wait all day. Part of his treatment is to hug and kiss good looking young women who apply for treatment. Two offer to testify that he kissed them. He requires his patients to take his treatment with their eyes shut.

Truth was imprisoned in the Massachusetts penitentiary according to Mrs. Stewell, who handles the crowds which throng his house in fashionable Capital hill. Several indictments for using the mails to defraud were found against Truth last year in Boston. He pleaded guilty to five and was fined $500 on each. The other two were suspended.


1913

How Cowards Were Punished

Many of the devices by which military indifference to life has been matured and sustained are curious.

In ancient Athens the public temples were closed to those who refused military service, who deserted their ranks or lost their bucklers, while a law constrained such offenders to sit for three days in the public forum dressed in the garments of a woman.

Many a Spartan mother would stab her son who came back alive from a defeat, and such a man, if he escaped his mother, was debarred not only from public offices, but from marriage, exposed to the blows of all who chose to strike him, compelled to dress in mean clothing and to wear his beard negligently trimmed. In the same way a horse soldier who fled or lost his shield or received a wound in any save the front part of the body was by law prevented from ever afterward appearing in public.

Home Town Helps — "The City Beautiful"

1913

Does Not Mean Prettiness

Term "City Beautiful" Has Been Much Misunderstood — Real Ends to Be Attained.

That term "the City Beautiful" sounds like tying pink ribbons around lamp posts. Even as applied to civic art, as distinct from city planning, the name is sufficiently misleading. It is the idea indicated by that unfortunate, falsifying phrase that Raymond Unwin, in his admirable "Town Planning in Practice," lampoons.

"Civic art is too often understood to consist of filling our streets with marble fountains, dotting our squares with groups of statuary, twining our lampposts with wriggling acanthus leaves or dolphins' tails, and our buildings with meaningless bunches of fruit and flowers tied up with impossible stone ribbons."

It is not the prettifying of cities that is the object of city planners. The building of intraurban, intercity and interstate transit facilities, the construction of sewers, of gutters, of garbage disposal plants, the destruction of unsanitary areas to be replaced by decent housing, the development of port facilities, the upbuilding of the health of the city through the creation of playgrounds and parks — parks primarily as health agents, not prettification measures — all of these and others are the chief aims of city planning. There will, of course, be a necessary improvement in the appearance of the city as the natural result of skill in city building, and that improvement is an entirely proper object, but it ought not to be permitted to paralyze the whole movement through the creation of an entirely incorrect understanding of the ends to be attained.

Other phrases have been suggested, which are useful as antitoxins to that "City Beautiful" phrase, but they generally accent some one phase of city planning at the expense of the others. "The City Practical," "The City Useful," "The City Scientific" are examples. One of the best is negative. It was coined by Robert W. De Forest and represents the movement as aiming to exterminate the "Unregulated City Hideous."

But no phrase yet suggested epitomizes the wide range of city planning, and least of all can it be said that the "City Beautiful" is the central thought of its exponents.

Women's Dress Bolder Than Ever

1913

Look!

Woman's dress is to be bolder than ever!

In full view of things as they are seen, this would seem to be a rash statement. But it is no mere layman's conjecture from visible fashions. It is the dictum of a man dressmaker, a famous Parisian, whose name is a household word among the modish.

Moreover, this authority does not hesitate at the word "bolder." He goes it a shade better and uses "daring." And if anybody knows, he knows.

Daring is the word that expresses present fashions, which have caused more cricks in the masculine neck than any feminine styles that have prevailed since "the Grecian bend" caused grandfather to forget exactly what he went to the grocer's after. From extant pictures of this curve, it was just the style that grandmother might have worn and kept her mind on serious things. It was but a single curve. But there are many now.

Some apprehension should prevail as to just what "more daring than ever" really means, in connection with woman's fashions, coming and to come. As they are, when a pretty woman intervenes between the sun and a man's vision, the man — unless he is a hardened creature — has to shut his eyes. He can get along on a cloudy day with a few blushes, interlarded with thought. But if worse comes to worst — although this might disappoint the ladies — man must take to the woods or neglect his business. — Judge.

Modesty of Slit Skirts Debated; New Fashions Give Sight to Blind

1913

Daughters' Dress Care of Mothers

Denver Pedagogue Says Parents Can Check X-ray Gowns and Slit Skirts on Girls

DENVER, Aug. 30. — Superintendent of Schools William H. Miley expressed the utmost satisfaction today at the stand the Mothers' congress has taken against transparent and slit skirts for school girls. He felt so sure the mothers can accomplish more than the school department officials in the direction of discouraging immodesty of dress on their daughter's part, he said, that he does not even consider it necessary for the school heads to issue any orders on the subject.

Some well known Denver women were not so sure, however, that the wearing of the new styles of skirts can be prevented by the means adopted and one or two went so far as to hint that the new skirts critics are inclined to be old fogyish.

"How can children be disposed to moderation in dress unless their mothers display it?" asked Mrs. Henry Hershey, a prominent member of the Mothers' congress. "I hope, too, that the congress will move with delicacy and tact. There is an idea that old styles are more moral than new simply because they have been worn for a long time."

"It isn't the display or concealment of the body that constitutes modesty or immodesty," said Mrs. Dora Phelps Buell, also a leading member of the congress. "And I am sorry to see the mothers beginning in the wrong way. The moment a woman or a girl wears a gown shows her figure there is a howl that the effect is immoral. The world has gone mad over externals."

—The La Crosse Tribune, La Crosse, WI, Aug. 30, 1913, p. 6.


Slit Skirt Makes "Blind" Man See

KANSAS CITY, Mo., Aug. 30. — M. J. McCarty, "fake" blind man, who was sentenced to serve 100 days on the municipal farm because he gazed for thirty seconds on the aperture in a slit skirt, was not at all downcast today.

"Believe me," said McCarty, "believe me, it was worth it."

McCarty was wearing a "Help the Blind" sign around his neck when a pretty brunette, with a skirt slit to the knee, passed and dropped a dime in his cup. J. W. West, a clerk, saw McCarty turn and stare after the girl. West stared too, and then he called a policeman.

—The La Crosse Tribune, La Crosse, WI, Aug. 30, 1913, p. 10.

Fried Chicken Too Much for Negro Hunger Strike

1913

Elizabeth, N. J., July 18. — The manner in which Warden Charles W. Dodd of the county jail broke up a hunger strike today may set a useful example, he thinks, to keepers of English prisons who become custodians of suffragettes.

William Turner, a negro prisoner incarcerated last Sunday, sought to gain his liberty by refusing to eat. This morning the negro had been forty-eight hours without food, when Warden Dodd appeared at the cell with a steaming plate of fried chicken and a large section of a juicy watermelon. One sniff and Turner's hunger strike came to an abrupt end.

—The Evening News, Ada, Oklahoma, July 18, 1913, p. 1.

Now That We Have Caught Your Eye

Advertisement, 1913

NOW
that we have caught your eye

We want to tell you about that new
Electric Iron

Just the thing for hot weather,
no red hot stove on a red hot
day — no walking, no lifting,
easy to regulate. Try one.

ADA ELECTRIC AND GAS COMPANY
Phone No. 78 — 209 W. Main

—The Evening News, Ada, Oklahoma, July 17, 1913, p. 3.

Archie Weaver Used Kitchen Stove As Safe

Decatur, IL, 1913

USED KITCHEN STOVE AS SAFE

Archie Weaver's Pile Looked Like Iron Money.

If you use the kitchen stove as a safety deposit vault or a burglar proof safe, don't leave the making of the fire in the morning to your wife. Archie Weaver, who conducts a grocery in the 2100 block North Main, having no safe in his place of business Friday night, carried home his money in a canvas bag and tossed it in the kitchen stove as the most unlikely place for burglars to look for it. It was an unlikely place for anybody to look for it and next morning a fire was kindled in the stove just as usual. After awhile Mr. Weaver thought of his cash and the fire was hastily drawn. The bag was gone and the money bore but slight resemblance to coin of the realm.

Fortunately there was nothing but coin in the bag and the heat required to reduce a beefsteak and boil coffee is not sufficient to fuse silver. The coin looked like iron money, but it was not mutilated and after Mr. Weaver had properly explained its unusual appearance it passed at par. After this Mr. Weaver will hide his money in the clock, bury it in the backyard or build the fire himself.

—The Daily Review, Decatur, IL, Oct. 26, 1913, p. 3.

Highwayman, Dressed as Woman, Aids in Hold-Up

Washington, D.C., 1913

Two highwaymen, one attired as a stylish young woman, held up John McLain of 1108 Florida Northeast, he told the police of the Ninth precinct the other night, and at the point of a revolver demanded his cash and jewelry.

McLain was going to his home, when he was accosted at Montello avenue and Morse street Northeast by two men, one dressed in woman's clothes. Both had their faces smeared with lampblack. The one in man's clothes pointed a revolver at McLain, and demanded his money. He only had 26 cents, so the highwayman took that, and pointing his revolver at McLain told him to "beat it." McLain did.

Hastily turning a corner, he met Policeman Steele about to mount the steps of the Ninth precinct station. "There's a couple of hold-ups down the street," he yelled at Steele. The bluecoat spied the pair about four blocks away and started after them on the double-quick. The two heard his footsteps and vanished around a corner. No more was seen of them.

Before they disappeared, however, Policeman Steele saw the "woman" pick up "her" skirts and do 100 yards in about ten flat. Underneath the skirts "she" had on a serviceable pair of trousers.

McLain expressed doubt as to his ability to identify the pair should they be arrested. He said the lampblack they had on their faces made it difficult to remember their features, in addition, the beskirted member of the team had on a heavy veil.

A blue broadcloth suit, furs and muff, tan shoes, and a big black picture hat comprised the attire of the one who masqueraded as a woman. The police are wondering just what the game was.

—Syndicated feature article


ROBBER WAS IN SKIRTS

With Companion, He Gets Enormous Sum of 25 Cents.

SO MR M'LAIN REPORTS

Two Masquerading Youths Lead Policeman a Merry Chase — Quarry Lost in Alley — "Highwayman" Stumbles Over His Skirts — "Victim" Is Employed in One of the Government Departments.

Held up, the police say, at the point of a revolver by two white youths with blackened faces, one dressed as a woman and wearing a heavy black veil, John McLain, of 1108 Florida avenue northeast, late last night gave up 25 cents under threat of death at Montello avenue and Morse street northeast. McLain had more money in his pocket, but told the alleged robbers that that was all he had.

Passing by the corner a few moments later, Policeman Steele, of the Ninth precinct, was hurriedly told of the robbery by McLain, and gave chase. They were less than a block away. Hearing him coming, he said last night, the one dressed as a woman picked up his dresses and both ran quickly away.

Gathered His Skirts and Ran.

Policeman Steele threatened to shoot, but the two continued running and dodged up one street and down another, After following them for about four blocks, they evaded the policeman in an alley, and he was forced to abandon the chase.

McLain, who is employed in one of the government departments and is 24 years old, told the policeman he was sure both of the young men were white and not more than 21 years old. He plainly saw the blacking on their faces, he declared. The one dressed as a woman stumbled over his dress several times, he said.

McLain was returning to his home shortly after 11 o'clock, he said, when he noticed what appeared to be a negro man and woman approaching him. He paid little attention to them until they got within a few feet of him, and then the one dressed as a man suddenly whipped out a revolver and shoved it in his face. "Give us all the money you have or I will kill you," McLain said the one dressed as a man muttered, as though trying to disguise his voice. The other one, he said, told him to hurry up in a voice distinctly masculine.

Gave "Highwaymen" 25 Cents.

Fearing that the man would enforce his demand, McLain said he took 25 cents out of his pocket and handed it to the one dressed as a woman and told the pair that he had nothing else valuable. The sound of an approaching man frightened the "highwaymen" at this time, and they took the quarter and hurried away, he said.

Policeman Steele had just left his home and was on the way to the Ninth precinct police station to begin his night's work. Seeing the policeman, McLain rushed up to him and told him of the robbery, pointing out the two forms rapidly disappearing into the darkness along Montello avenue.

Followed by McLain, the policeman rushed after the couple. He had gone only a few steps when they began running, evidently having heard his approach. They went a block on Montello avenue, and the policeman was rapidly gaining on them. Then the one masquerading as a woman picked up his skirts about his waist, and both began running faster.

Decided Not to Shoot.

Policeman Steele blew his whistle as he ran, but got no response. He also called to the couple that he would shoot unless they stopped, but they only ran faster. He did not actually fire.

Returning to the Ninth precinct police station, Policeman Steele sent out a general lookout for the two robbers, but up to a late hour last night no further trace of them had been found.

McLain described the two as being both young and smooth-faced. The one dressed as a woman was entirely in black, and had on a black veil, he said. The other was dressed in a dark suit and slouch hat.

—The Washington Post, January 13, 1913, page 3.

Ambulance Horse Sad To Be Replaced By Monstrous Motor Ambulance

Atlanta, 1913

Replaced by Motor Ambulance, "Faithful John" Dying of Grief

Faithful John awoke in his stall attached to Grady Hospital one morning not so long ago and began munching the customary breakfast of hay. As his eyes roved over the familiar interior of the stable they alighted upon a bulky intruder which looked as if it had come to stay. There was something suspicious about the monster-on-wheels that stood near Faithful John in the stables, and when he had finished his morning meal he began to inspect it and to meditate. In the midst of meditation there came a whirr and clang clang from the big gong at the far end of the stables. It was the emergency ambulance call.

Faithful John threw up his head, champed his bit and stamped and pawed the ground in eager anticipation. The stable attaches never did come quick enough for the loyal horse when the overhead gong summoned him to a wild dash across the streets. Faithful John awaited nervously, but no attache came to unloose him and lead him under the swinging harness.

Instead, a small, alert young man leaped to the seat of the suspicious monster who had come that morning, started a roar somewhere in its depths, clanged an unfamiliar gong and yelled a precautionary Lookout. The huge thing snorted and raged and chugged through the door of the stable, leaving a choking, blinding cloud of vapor behind.

John realized his doom. They were replacing him with one of the horseless devils he encountered every day on the streets — one of those things that whizz by with a snort and a roar. He had been a good horse and faithful and had never failed to answer the joyous summons from the big gong overhead. But now they were done with him, he was out-of-date and science had furnished something that could do more than he, and do it better and faster.

That was about a year ago. Ever since Grady's auto ambulance has performed the duties that once were performed, unassisted, by "Faithful John." The only runs he makes nowadays are when the machine ambulance is in the repair shop or on another call. And, although he dashes through the streets with the same avidity as of old he is breaking down with grief and his heart has been broken by the automobile.

He is 23 years old and has been in service for the hospital for seventeen of these. Dr. W. B. Summerall, superintendent of Grady, estimated yesterday that Faithful John had made as many as 25,000 runs and had covered fully as many as 50,000 miles, or more. In that time he is estimated to have saved as many as 100 lives or better. He is the fastest horse ever connected with the hospital or with any ambulance service in the city.

So far as can be ascertained, this horse's record outrivals the record of any heretofore brought to notice. Recently a fire horse in New York claimed a record of 15,000 runs. This was said to have been the highest ever attained.

Even though he becomes of no use whatever to the hospital Faithful John will be retained by Grady until his death. Then he will be buried with deserving honors and his grave will be somewhere in the fields where there are no roadways and where no rival automobiles can snort their noisy way to disturb his final slumbers as they disturbed his peace and happiness in life.

— The Atlanta Constitution, Atlanta, Georgia, April 13, 1913, page 2B.

Cabaret Girls Tell of Songs and Dances: Sensual, Improper

Chicago, 1913

CABARET GIRLS TELL OF SONGS AND DANCES

They Admit That Songs Are Improper and That Dances Are Sensual

Chicago, April 12. — Agents of the Illinois vice commission late last night and early today brought consternation to the fashionable guests of the two down-town restaurants — Rector's and the States — against whose reputations there rested, no question except the nature of their cabaret entertainments.

While the cabaret was in full blast investigators entered the down-town restaurants and a wine room in the tenderloin at midnight and brought performers, managers and guests to a hotel for interrogation. The inquiry lasted until 2 o'clock this morning.

From some of them the senators drew reluctant admissions that a few of the songs and dances "might be" suggestive and "perhaps had been a bad effect on the diners."

"In My Harem."

A girl singer, crying as she testified asserted she never would sing "In My Harem," a song Lieutenant Governor O'Hara was particularly inquisitive about.

The manager of a well known restaurant said the restaurant business had degenerated into a vaudeville show, and he did not know when it would stop. After investigators and members of a "slumming" party said they had heard an improper song in a place in Twenty-first street, the commission voted to recommend to Mayor Harrison that the cafe's license he revoked. The commission will call the attention of the state's attorney to the testimony of the manager, who said nothing indecent went on.

Senator Beall said he saw girls not more than 15 or 16 years imbibing mixed drinks in the cafe, and some at them were more or less intoxicated.

Mrs. Maud Joseph told of the singing and dances at a downtown restaurant. She said in one dance the performer "might just as well have had no skirts at all."

She stated that a girl did an Oriental dance, wearing pink tights and a "sort of a skirt of black chiffon." She thought the dance was suggestive. She said a couple did a fancy dance, a combination between the "Tango" and the "Apache."

"Was it art or suggestion?" asked the lieutenant-governor.

"There was no art in it."

Free For All Dance.

The performers led a free for all dance on a space made by clearing away tables.

The professional who led the dance said they had tried to eliminate anything which might appear sensual in their act, but admitted they might not have been entirely successful.

"Don't you think that where you see art others might see vice?" asked Mr. O'Hara. "I guess it appeals differently, but I do not see anything obscene about it," was a reply.

O. B. Stimpson, manager of another down-town restaurant, asserted the business had drifted into a show, but he was compelled to put up a first class cabaret to get the trade. He was of opinion that some popular songs have gone too far. He said guests did the "bear" dance in the aisles, between the tables, but that they never got "raw." An entertainer in this restaurant said there was nothing out of the way in the song "All Night Long." "It's all in the way you sing it," she stated. "Some people are so weak minded that they will take up anything."

Time to Revoke.

When the vice commissioners reassembled they received a telephone message from Mayor Harrison saying, "This looks like a good day to revoke some licenses."

The mayor referred to unsavory restaurants which survived when the old segregated district on the south side was closed several months ago. He said he had made up his mind to close two places as a result of testimony at the night session of the commission and would investigate others.

Frank Benent, manager of "Dream Land," where the dancers number from 500 to 1,000 a night, testified that no liquor was sold there, and that "dummy" dancers hired by the management mingled with the crowds to prevent suggestive dancing.

"We couldn't make money if we sold liquor or permitted lewd action," said the witness. "If the dance halls of Chicago want to make money they should work in harmony with this commission." Girls at previous sessions have testified that it was at "Dream Land" they made acquaintances who led them on their first steps downward.

—The Atlanta Constitution, Atlanta, Georgia, April 13, 1913, page 1B.

Snapshots by Barbara Boyd - Thoughtless Good Intentions

1913

Snapshots by Barbara Boyd
Thoughtless Good Intentions

Do not think the good intentions that pave the lower region are any worse than the good intentions which are put into execution, but which have no thought back of them," said the clubwoman.

"They are not half so bad," replied her friend, "for they don't worry anybody or do any damage. They never really live, and so, not having life, they can do neither good or ill. But good intentions that are full of life, and on their job, often work quite as much harm as good."

"That's what I think," responded the clubwoman. "They are often what I call thoughtless good intentions. With the very best of intentions, a person will rush to do something for you without even stopping to think whether you may want that thing done or not; and so precipitate upon your defenseless head an avalanche of trouble and annoyance.

"I got to thinking about this," went on the clubwoman, "because of something Mrs. Smith, a neighbor of mine, did the other day. I wasn't feeling very well, and I thought if I could lie down undisturbed and get a little sleep, I would be all right. The only one likely to come was the ice boy; so I hung out a little sign telling him what I wanted, and then went upstairs and crawled into bed. I was just dozing off, when the bell rang so furiously, and kept on ringing so persistently, that I thought the house must be on fire, or there was a dire telegram, or my husband had been run over by an auto, and I scrambled out and ran down. And who do you think it was?"

"Give it up," said her friend.

"This same Mrs. Smith, to ask me excitedly if I knew there was a sign pinned to the porch post. She said she was going by and saw it fluttering there, and thought maybe I didn't know it and ought to be told. Honestly, I could have choked her with right good will. I don't wonder murders are committed. I felt like asking her didn't she suppose I had eyes in my head, and would I be likely to hang up a sign and not know it was there, and a few more pointed questions like that. But being a supposedly civilized being, I only smiled feebly and said, 'Yes, I knew it was there as I had put it there myself,' whereat she apologized, and said she thought maybe it might be something I would like to know about. You see her intention was all right, but there was no thought back of it."

"There are plenty of such people," agreed her friend. "It's my private opinion that good intentions are a sort of cloak that lots of people use, to throw over thoughtlessness and selfishness and various others of the cardinal sins. The person who effervesces with good intentions, I avoid as I would the plague."

—The Newark Advocate, Newark, Ohio, April 8, 1913, page 5.

Wineroom 'Rags' Source of Evil

Indianapolis, 1913

Scientist Dissects Festive Syncopations and Finds They Spur Lower Emotions

EFFECTS ON MORALS LURING

Beware of "Portamento" and Chromatic Slides if You Want to Be Good

A few months ago, when Superintendent Hyland of the police started war on winerooms, he found most of his efforts futile until he struck at what appeared to him to be the heart of the evil — the wineroom music.

Raids had been made repeatedly upon places of doubtful moral character. Persons caught there were arrested wholesale. Some convictions were obtained against proprietors for violation of the Nicholson law. But such fines were promptly paid and offenses repeated. Persons arrested in the places, it appeared, had a right under the state and city laws to go there as much as they liked. If nothing further than being there was proved against them, City Court ignored the charge.

They went back. Then the ukase against music was issued. It caused consternation in the places aimed at, as well as in the first-class cafes and hotel dining rooms, but it necessarily had to include all to reach the ones desired. And it proved effective.

Now comes the question, "Where is the psychological point to the superintendent's order?"

WHAT IS THE LURE?

And again, "What is the mystic lure of music that, in the verbiage of the legal lights, aids and abets the evils that thrive in winerooms?"

Music hath charms to sooth the savage breast, but does it have some of the quality of an affinity, to attract those of evil intent?

More to the point, is music bad?

Or is there merely bad music that is bad?

Or do bad persons like music?

Or what?

And if so, what is bad about music — the melody, the rhythm, the words of the song, or all of them, or none?

There are different views. Not long since a minister was quoted as saying that if composers would only disassociate suggestive words from some of their more lively compositions of ragtime, or, at the least, nonsensical words, and set religious rhymes to their music, their names would go down in history.

There are two attitudes of the day toward the rag from different angles.

HERE'S HOW SCIENCE SEES IT.

A scientific study of the effect of music has been made by Henry W. Stratton, a writer in the Arena, who discusses his observations under the title of "Music and Crime."

He has found by experiment in one of the state prisons that many criminals are exceptionally good musicians. They are of two classes.

First, those whose knowledge of music extends no farther than the popular songs of the day and whose associations with such songs have always been of questionable character. They absorb the sensuous quality of music and can not be morally improved by it because the quality does not contain the necessary musical ingredients to lift them to a higher plane of emotion.

In such songs, this writer says, it frequently happens that where the melody is good and would of itself awaken refining impulses the words produce the opposite effect.

"Again, popular song rhythms are calculated to spur only the lower emotions," he says.

"If a tune is catchy the charm lies largely in its rhythm; the unusual syncopations act upon the listener at unexpected and unnatural parts of the measure and excite unhealthy, unmoral tendencies."

The second class of criminal musicians are scheduled as "darlings of society" who have learned to be musically voluptuous. They yield easily without question to all kinds of music and are unable to resist its enervating influences, They are mastered by their musical sensation.

Mr. Stratton has analyzed ragtime — picked it to pieces — to determine what about it is bad. He finds that a deleterious effect upon the moral nature of a listener is produced by voluptuous slides from one tone to another, called portamento.

"It induces languor and suggests to the mind a relapse from moral discipline," he says. Chromatic passages also tend to promote immorality, he thinks.

RAGTIME GETS THE HOOK.

All this is rather a condemnation of music which is abnormally syncopated, Which contains too frequent repetitions of the portamento and which brings chromatics into frequent play. No class of music quite answers the description so well, perhaps, as the rag.

But one might want to know what makes syncopations, chromatics and slides act so upon the human organisms.

Under the head of "Emotion," an encyclopedia says:

"Unconsciously the spectator, after hearing a musical concert sings and acts cerebrally, and a tenseness of the vocal cords and the whole muscular apparatus of the body results from the imitative effort to make the necessary sounds and to reproduce the necessary movements."

Music, itself, one might deduce, may entice the hearer to attempt an action of the emotion it contains.

But there probably are other conditions to be noted in a consideration of the effect of music in winerooms. Some kinds of music, per se, it is agreed, have bad effects.

A combination of this kind of music and of intoxicating liquors may have a worse effect; then, again, in an open room, it adds privacy to conversations over tables usually located too near one another to otherwise afford privacy. Again, it seems to be a lure for patrons, and, if patronized alone in winerooms and heard there frequently, would tend each time to recall other similar associations.

Altogether one might draw the conclusion that bad music in bad places is bad for good and bad people; bad music in good places is little better for either; good music in bad places has all odds against it; and good music in good places is better for both.

—The Indianapolis Star, Indianapolis, November 23, 1913, page 14.

Eugenics Move Aided by European Nations

1918

Commission in Scandinavian Countries Seek Common Laws Governing Marriages

[Associated Press Correspondence]

COPENHAGEN, Nov. 22. — Eugenics has been taken up as a study by a government commission composed of prominent jurists representing Denmark, Norway and Sweden with the object of introducing a mutual law regulating marriages and family rights. The Scandinavian countries are thus following the example of several American states in taking up the question of restricting the marriage of those who are physically or morally defective.

The commission, however, has not gone so far as was desired by the Danish, namely demanding that people intending to marry in all cases should give certificates to the effect that they were not suffering from any disease of such a kind that marriage ought not to be entered into.

Sweden would not go so far, its representatives asserting that this would be too great a personal and economical demand to make; and it was argued that it would lend to increase the already existing reluctance to enter into matrimony.

The commission thereupon agreed to demand that all insane and mentally defective persons, as well as those suffering from certain sexual diseases and epilepsy, may not marry unless the other party has been notified of the condition existing.

—The Indianapolis Star, Indianapolis, November 23, 1913, page 7.

Man Hits Cow, Breaks Headlight

Iowa, 1913

Sleepydale News By a Wide Awake Scribe

Arthur Reed was unfortunate in breaking a head light and fender on his automobile Saturday night when he hit a cow lying in the road near his home. But quick work with the emergency brake kept the car from turning turtle.

—The Correctionville Argus, Correctionville, Iowa, November 28, 1913, page 9.

Biplane Pilots Lose Lives at San Diego

San Diego, 1913

FLYERS MEET DEATH LIEUTS. KELLY AND ELLINGTON LOSE THEIR LIVES AT SAN DIEGO, CAL.

FALL 80 FEET TO GROUND

Both Men Are Instantly Killed, the Motor Crushing Their Chests— Total Fatalities in Navy and Army Service Numbers Fifteen.

San Diego, Cal.—Two intrepid navigators of the air, Lieuts. Hugh M. Kelly and Eric L. Ellington, U. S. A., attached to the camp of the first aero corps, were instantly killed at North island, when they fell from an altitude of eighty or more feet in a dual controlled biplane.

Within eight minutes after Lieut. Ellington had waved his hand as a signal to the mechanicians to let go the biplane the army aviator and his brother officer were lying crushed and mangled corpses, a mile away from the hangars whence the two had ascended.

Lieut. Ellington, a skillful pilot, occupied the instructor's seat in the biplane, with Lieut. Kelly at his side. The latter, a comparative novice at the flying game, was receiving instructions in the handling of the control levers. Owing to the general arrangements of the controlling wires, Lieut. Ellington could be at all times absolute master of the machine.

The engine, one of six cylinders and sixty horsepower, was working perfectly, and the two officers ascended to a height of 300 feet, circled and then began a volplane which was to have brought them back to the hangars. According to Capt. Cowan, in command of the aviation post, the biplane glided at a normal angle for a distance of about 220 feet. Then the engine, which was throttled at the beginning of the volplane, was thrown open.

Whether at this instant the unfortunate aeronauts temporarily lost control of the machine or the initial impetus of the revolving propeller, when the biplane was at so low an altitude, caused the machine to tip forward, can only be conjectured. But the spectators of the flight say the biplane suddenly pitched forward, nose downward, and shot to the earth. The impact probably killed both men, but the motor made death doubly sure by crushing their chests.

—The Correctionville Argus, Correctionville, Iowa, November 28, 1913, page 6.

Our Faith in Human Nature

1913

Luke M'Luke Says

From the Cincinnati Enquirer

We hate to lose our faith in human nature, but we have noticed that the man who operates on the theory that all men are suckers usually has lots of change.

It is believed in lots of circles that the party who makes the most noise is the best singer.

What has become of the old-fashioned man who used to drink a big dipper of well water when he got up in the morning and tell you he was full of Adam's ale?

Most girls who paint are better than they are painted, but the world hasn't time to scrape off the enamel and make an investigation.

There isn't much fun in doing as you please unless you have a wife to object.

When temptation is pretty and shapely a man doesn't try very hard to dodge it.

Any man who marries a woman who has been divorced five times ought not to kick about stale beer and warmed-over hash.

The best way to keep friends is not to need them.

And what has become of the old-fashioned man who used safety pins for hose supporters?

Experience is valuable, but it is never worth one-tenth the price we have to pay for it.

A man practices economy by telling his wife how to get along without things she wants.

We all want to be fair. But if you will let us tell our side of the story we are bound to twist it around so it will favor us.

Why is it that mothers will dress up their little girls tastefully and rig out their little boys like trained monkeys?

Every time a pessimist sees a sunny June bride he has visions of a rainy November day in the divorce court.

When a man has been married about 10 years he isn't half as much worried about his socks wrinkling at the ankles as he is about the holes in the toes.

—The Anaconda Standard, Anaconda, Montana, June 20, 1913, page 6.

England's Hoboes Are Super-Tramps

1913

ENGLAND'S HOBOES ARE SWELLS

SUPER-TRAMP NO COMMON BO

LONDON, March 1. -- England has discovered that among the 60,000 tramps that adorn her countryside are some sure-enough aristocrats who, patriots believe, would take a lot of beating.

England, in fact, claims to have evolved the super-tramp; a hobo who is shared and manicured as carefully as a west end "nut," and whose dandyism lacks nothing but spats and a crease down his trousers. One such Beau Brummel of the turnpike -- whose cash capital considered on one cent -- leaned against the dock rail of a London police court in an attitude of Piccadilly grace, the other day, and smiled languidly while a police sergeant recited from his note book as follows:

"I found upon the prisoner, your worship, the following articles:

"Razor in case, leather back shaving mirror, shaving brush (badger hair), tablet of Windsor soap, bone nailbrush, case of needles, spool of cotton, thimble, table knife, dessert spoon."

Referring to this case, a Scotland Yard inspector with whom the writer talked, declared that searching an English tramp was "like dipping into a lucky back," and instanced a woman named Willis, who was arrested for vagrancy a short time ago. To the outward eye, she simply was a homeless woman, without money, food or property, but closer examination revealed a leather belt under her waist to which were attached, with a neat row of hooks, an equipment of knives and forks, a collapsible frying pan, changes of clothing, needlework, a purse containing $6.80 and a bag of food.

This outfit, moreover, said the Scotland Yard man, was not luxurious but primitive compared with the portables carried by many British "wearies." One connoisseur is known who brews exquisite China tea under Surrey hedges, while there is another known to the brotherhood as "the doctor," whose luggage include a beautiful little medicine chest which he hides in thick grass or under a heap of stones before he knocks for admission to the nearest "casual ward."

Some British hoboes are ardent collectors. They collect everything except work. The police at Kingston-on-Thames discovered a tramp a while ago, who was traveling about with a handsome kit-bag. They found in it, among other things, 61 lead pencils, four pairs of spectacles, two table knives, three linen collars, three boxes of matches, a looking glass, a tooth brush, two pairs of laces, a handsome magnifying glass, and a silver-mounted pipe.

The owner of this collection proudly denied that he was a peddler, declaring indignantly that he had "never fallen so low." Money he had none, but every now and then a tramp is discovered in possession of a sum that none of us would be sorry to have to his credit in the bank.

One such Monte Cristo among hoboes was Patrick Halloran, who, after touring the beauty spots of Ireland for 35 years, was discovered at Midleton, in County Cork, with $575 in his possession, all in golden half-sovereigns. This money was neatly piled up in two tin canisters on a wheelbarrow which Halloran had been pushing before him for many years. He had a collapsible kitchen and a collapsible bed on his wheelbarrow, too!

Then there was a queer character, known as the "eccentric duchess," who sought the aid of the police at Kettering to find shelter for the night. This "duchess" was as tattered and torn as the man in "The House That Jack Built," and her personal baggage consisted of only two brown paper parcels. When these were opened however, 344 bright sovereigns worth $5 each flowed out on the inspector's desk among the pens and ink and memoranda.

--Nevada State Journal, Reno, Nevada, March 3, 1913, page 3.

The Ghost That Sang

1913

I had never seen a ghost, but once in the company of a friend, I heard a ghost sing.

It was in London. I must not mention the house, because to say a house is haunted in London is criminal libel. This house was haunted. I knew it was haunted, but the ghost had never troubled me. It bothered a friend of mine who spent an autumn in the house, by stamping up the stairs in the middle of the night. It troubled my secretary, who used to work alone in the house in the evening sometimes, by opening and shutting the doors. It troubled the police by lighting up the house and giving false alarm of burglars in the middle of the night. It never troubled me. I never saw it. I never felt it never heard it till this once.

It was about 1 o'clock in the morning. I was sitting in my sitting-room with a friend whom I call "X", who is a well-known author. (One generally adds in a ghost story "and who was a hard-headed man of business, utterly skeptical and completely matter of fact," as if that had anything to do with it.) We had just come in and were expecting another friend who lived in the house, and we were sitting up for him. We were talking about Swinburne's verse, and took down the first edition of "Atalanta in Calydon," which I then possessed and which I foolishly sold for a small sum (it was immediately afterward resold at an auction for large sum and went to America and is now in some collector's library), and I read out a passage. As I was reading we heard singing next door. said, "There's Phil," and didn't pay any further attention, as I expected him to come in, and I went on reading.

But the singing continued. It sounded foreign — like Spanish. This didn't surprise us, as Phil was in the habit of singing Provencal songs. The singing went on, and as he didn't come in, we went to meet him and opened the door. The next room was a tiny ante-room opening into another sitting room, and beyond this again was the smallest of bedrooms — not bigger than a cupboard. There was nobody there, but the singing went on; such curious singing, too; strange, alien, faint, tinkly, as if four confused voices were singing the song of an early century; it was unreal and it had a kind of burr in it, as if you were listening to voices on a telephone that is out of order. We walked through the rooms and we walked through the singing, and we heard it behind us still going on; and in the bedroom we found our friend asleep in his bed. Then the singing stopped. Now as we walked through that sitting-room I noticed my friend's hair, in Kipling's phrase, sitting up. I daresay he noticed the name thing about mine, or he would have done so had I any hair to notice. — Maurice Baring in the February Metropolitan.

—Middletown Daily Times-Press, Middletown, New York, February 15, 1913, page 4.

Girl's Dainty Figure in Split Skirt Draws Attention

Beacon, New York, 1913

SPLIT SKIRT UPSETS SCHOOL AT BEACON

Beacon, Nov. 21 — On Wednesday morning Miss Anna McCabe, a pupil in the eighth grade of the South Avenue School, Beacon, arrived at school with one of the latest model slit skirts and was the object of the envy of all the girls of the class, while the attention of the boy members of the class was also concentrated on her dainty figure. Miss Weller, the teacher, curious to know the point of interest in Miss McCabe's direction, inspected her section of the room and observed a generous display of hosiery caused by an indiscreet slit in the garment of Miss McCabe. Immediately the student was informed that her presence in the room after school was essential.

Then the scholars began to stimulate the spirit of defiance in the classroom and before long the air was full of presumably sincere threats: "If she does anything to her, we'll all wear slit skirts tomorrow." This, of course, only applied to the girls. The boys said nothing.

That the students meant trouble was soon conveyed to Miss Weller, but a few remarks from her intimidated them to such an extent that — well, there were not any slit skirts visible in the classroom yesterday.

Miss McCabe was kept after school and asked to change her costume before returning. She said she would. The rebellious pupils filed from the room as meek as lambs, instead of with the fiery aspect which was evident upon the first intimation of the punishment of Miss McCabe.

—Orange County Times-Press, Middletown, New York, November 25, 1913, page 6.