"...we should pass over all biographies of 'the good and the great,' while we search carefully the slight records of wretches who died in prison, in Bedlam, or upon the gallows."
~Edgar Allan Poe

Friday, September 5, 2025

Weekend Link Dump

 


Welcome to this week's Link Dump, where it's up, up, and away!



Try to sell a house that features art stolen by the Nazis, and watch the fun begin!

A brief history of pomegranates.

Some remote viewers took a gander at 31/Atlas, and I can't say they came up with cheery stuff.

A serial poisoner in Ohio.

The princess who chose painting over palaces.

The horrors of 19th century merchant service.

The (possibly) sinister story behind the Bean Puzzle Tombstone.

The well-preserved home of an 18th century textile designer.

The U.S. Army's cancer-causing fog.

When tennis was the Sport of Kings.

If you're in the mood to sail across the Indian Ocean, here's a how-to guide.

The world's most dangerous tree.

The start of the school lunch program.

Some talking poltergeists and a ventriloquist.

Why the world mourned the murder of a tree.

The ghosts of an Arizona resort.

How King James I was responsible for the Macbeth Witches.

A Prussian military officer at Valley Forge.

The too-short career of a female bookbinder.

A very special fossil.

For some reason, we're enamored of myths about frogs living in stones.

Two father-daughter poets.

The WWII bomber that influenced modern airplanes.

A brief history of the Louvre.

The disappearance of SS Vaitarna.

A Vanderbilt black sheep.

A Civil War sketchbook.

The controversial Younger Dryas Impact Theory.

In other news, badgers have turned to grave-robbing.

The pig who had a social security number.

A noble revenge.

The stories behind some popular funeral foods.

A Neolithic site that could rewrite history.

We're sorta clueless about how anesthesia works.

The colorful life of a 19th century British MP.

The colorful life of a Founding Father.

Some strange burial mounds in Kazakhstan.

An ancient Egyptian mathematical papyrus.

A murder on a crowded train.

A Pennsylvania haunting.

The life and art of Evelyn De Morgan.

That's all for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll meet a 19th century poltergeist.  In the meantime, here's Emmylou.

Wednesday, September 3, 2025

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com



It’s not every day that you come across an episode of a reality show titled, “Who Gets the Grave?”  The “Wilmington News,” August 6, 1881:

A singular affair comes to light in the old town of Glasgow, this State. Mrs. Thomas B. Ellison's baby died in 1878, and in due time was laid to rest in the Pencader church yard. He was a bright little baby, and in respect to its memory it was determined by the bereaved parents to have a sufficient monument over the little grave as soon as money could be saved.

In the meantime the mother attended faithfully to the mound and kept it in good repair. The bright sun and the refreshing rain brought green grass and flowers, and no grave in the cemetery looked brighter. On Sabbath morning, as was her wont, she went after service to the grave. To her surprise she saw at the head of the mound a beautiful tombstone, with lots of white-winged angels and nice little verses all over it.

Approaching nearer she saw, not the name of her own little darling, sculptured by an unknown friend, but, instead, the name of Brown. Hurrying back to the church, Mrs. Ellison met Jacob Cazier, an influential man of the town, and to him she related what she saw and then proceeded forthwith to interview the father of baby Brown, an infant that had some nine years before died of cholera infantum, and of him demand an explanation. He gave the mother to understand in a very forcible way that he was not a man to go around pirating among the graveyards for other people's offspring. He guessed he knew his baby, and as he was a poor man, it was not to be supposed that he was traveling around the country putting fancy grave stones upon the graves of other people's babies.

Beneath that mound he insisted were baby Brown's bones, and by its blessed memory he didn't propose to have vandal hands laid on his property. As Mr. Brown and Mrs. Ellison were each positive, there was a big dilemma. The people became interested, and became so interested in the controversy that they took sides.

The baby Brown party was somewhat the weaker from the fact that the baby Ellisonites were led by a woman and the flame of chivalry extant made it so. As Brown threatened prosecution the other side wisely left matters in the hands of the trustees of the church. It was a momentous question, the ownership of the baby. They discussed and adjourned, adjourned to discuss, until they settled upon an evening for the decision. Both families, with other witnesses, were cited to appear.

Mrs. Ellison, confident and hopeful, came promptly. Brown was so positive that to appear he thought would compromise his dignity. In the meantime Mrs. Ellison had consulted Mr. Ray, justice at Newark, who, in looking at the case in all its bearing, suggested that as a crisis had come, perhaps it would be well to look at the coffins. Mrs. Ellison was willing. The trustees, hearing the threat of Brown, refused to touch the grave claimed by Brown, but consented to have opened a little neglected grave near by. The digging was done with dispatch, and in the stillness the interested townspeople that crowded could hear their own hearts beat.

At last the coffin was reached. There was suppressed excitement about the grave. A little more scraping; a few tosses of the spade, the last shovelsfull were thrown, when lo! the coffin of the little baby Brown was brought to light and recognized by the undertaker. The mother had won. The strange tombstone was taken down, and in order to more fully convince the doubters the little grave was opened and the coffin of baby Ellison was uncovered.

I’m guessing it took years for Mr. Brown to live that one down.

Monday, September 1, 2025

The Mysterious Fires at Bladenboro

"Philadelphia Inquirer," March 13, 1932, via Newspapers.com



This blog has featured several stories involving mysterious fires.  However, the most famous, and probably the most well-investigated, case of this sort took place in the town of Bladenboro, North Carolina, in 1932.

One afternoon in February the family of Charles H. Williamson was sitting quietly in their parlor, the picture of Norman Rockwell harmony.  The calm was suddenly broken by a neighbor rushing into their midst, shouting, "Your house is burning up!"  The startled family followed him into their dining room, where, sure enough, a window-shade and some curtains were ablaze.

Fortunately, the group was able to quickly tear them down and smother the flames.  Then, their shock turned to sheer puzzlement.  The wood around the burned items was completely untouched.  And how did the fire start at all?  No one had lit a fire in the room for weeks.  No one had smoked there.  There were no inflammable chemicals in the house.  The neighbor who had alerted them had had a clear view of the dining room all afternoon, and had not seen any stranger in the vicinity of the house.

All the Williamsons could do was shrug and walk back to the parlor.  No sooner had they returned that another fire broke out in another window of the dining room.  It was the same story:  there were no signs of anything that could have set off the fire, and the window sash appeared untouched by the flames.

Things were clearly getting weird.  The family summoned friends and neighbors to help them find a solution to the mystery.  They all inspected every inch of the house, hoping to find something--anything--that might explain these baffling bonfires.  Nothing at all suspicious was found.

That night was without incident, which left the Williamsons with a great feeling of relief.  The next morning, they went off to church with the cheery assumption that the previous day's event was a one-off--peculiar, yes, but nothing they would ever see again.

They returned home from the service happily anticipating their Sunday lunch.  While the others began to assemble in the dining room, Mrs. Williamson went upstairs to her bedroom.  And immediately began screaming.

An understandable action, considering that she had found her bed on fire.

The family rushed into the room, grabbed the blazing bedspread, and beat out the flames.  They were stunned to see that--like the window sashes on the previous day--the rest of the bed was completely untouched by the fire.

A few minutes after this incident, one of the Williamson daughters, Katie, opened a closet door, and found that a pile of paper dress patterns was ablaze.  The flames were quickly extinguished--the family was getting a lot of practice at putting out fires--and they saw that nothing else in the closet had been touched by the fire.  Shortly after that, Katie went into the dining room, where she saw smoke coming from a cardboard box containing a fruit cake..  She opened it, and saw that the paper wrapping around the cake was on fire.  However--I think you know by now what's coming--neither the cake nor the box was so much as singed.

Naturally, word of the strange goings-on at the Williamson home swiftly spread through Bladenboro.  Naturally, the house drew a crowd of curiosity seekers and amateur sleuths eager to find a solution to the mystery.  Naturally, none of these people were any help whatsoever.

The Williamsons' uninvited audience was not disappointed, however.  A group of some fifteen people were treated to the sight of a second closet fire.  A pair of pants hanging inside was on fire.  Nothing else in the closet was at all damaged.  On one occasion, while some of the Williamsons and a few out-of-town guests were sitting in one of the bedrooms, they all saw the bed suddenly burst into flames right in front of their eyes.

Local firemen, electricians, and other experts in such matters struggled to come up with an explanation for all this.  A local doctor suggested that "a combination of certain gases in the air" might be responsible.  However, tests of the air in various parts of the house showed nothing abnormal.  The electricity to the house was cut off, on the chance that the fires were set by some short in the wiring.  A theory that the fires were being deliberately set for insurance purposes fizzled out when it was discovered that the house was not insured.  Could bolts of lightning have entered the house and set off the fires?  (The area had not had any lighting strikes for months.)  Perhaps dried phosphorus, that was then commonly used in rat and mouse traps, was responsible?  (It turned out that nothing of the sort had ever been used in the house.)  Were the Williamsons staging this for publicity?  If so, why?

While everyone was still debating the matter, the phantom firebug upped its game in an alarming way.  Katie Williamson was standing in one of the rooms with some of her friends, when--seemingly out of nowhere--her skirt burst into flames.  She was able to immediately tear it off and stamp out the fire.  It was found that the skirt had no damage to it, other than one small hole.

After this incident, the Williamsons sensibly ran for the exits.  They removed all their possessions out of the house and took lodgings in the home of a friend.  After an uneventful night, Mr. Williamson decided the family had to take the chance and move back into the house.  It seemed ridiculous to be chased out of their own residence by an intangible mystery.

The family had scarcely resettled in their home when--as if to taunt them--another bedspread suddenly exploded into flame.  Then the dining room tablecloth followed suit.  As usual, nothing around these articles was so much as singed.

All told, nearly thirty separate fires were recorded in the home.  Thankfully for the Williamsons, after a few days the outbreaks ceased as suddenly and inexplicably as they had started, but leaving their cause forever a puzzle.

Friday, August 29, 2025

Weekend Link Dump

 


Welcome to this week's Link Dump!

The gang's all here!


The Edenton Tea Party.

The creatures that used to rule the earth.

Christopher Marlowe and Shakespeare.

A man who went from rags to riches to the UK Parliament.

The life of Gothic writer Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu.

A brief history of Pontefract Castle.

The mysterious sound of an ancient theater.

An "extraordinary" 3,000 year old mural.

Sybilla, Queen of Scots.

Dog-headed saints.

A vanished civilization in the Negev desert.

Lourdes and medical science.

A really weird ancient skull.

An engraving of a 17th century engraver.

A possible solution to the Bermuda Triangle mystery.

A possible solution to the "Wow" signal mystery.

The long, strange history of the glass armonica.

A tale of a stingy widow.

A German Shepherd who became a silent film star.

A cat learns not to be lonely.

Some paranormal detectives.

The Clink Prison Museum.

The folklore surrounding a Danish pile of sticks.

The many journeys of a Civil War-era Bible.

The wedding of Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon.

A sacred tree at a Japanese train station.

The very strange death of Cindy James.

The disappearance of Marjorie West.

Chunks of the seafloor are upside down, and scientists are perturbed.

A "horrible butchery."

Australia's deadliest animal may surprise you.

That's all for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll visit some Mystery Fires!  In the meantime, in case you're not familiar with glass armonicas, here's a peek. It's a fascinating instrument.

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

Newspaper Clipping of the Day



Haunting a house is bad form, but stealing electricity from the rightful residents seems to be going way too far.  The London "Independent," December 6, 1994 (via Newspapers.com):

Heol Fanog House in St David's Without, near Brecon in Wales, has plagued its occupants since they moved in five years ago. Self-employed artist Bill Rich, his wife Liz and three young children, have endured smells of sulphur and church incense, shadowy figures and ghostly footsteps. Their first quarterly electricity bill was £750; electricity is somehow consumed even when the family is away and all the appliances are off. They reckon they had been charged about £3,000 for electricity they hadn't themselves used. The house made the children edgy and the parents listless.

The Riches called in the medium Eddie Burks, who said he found the highest concentration of evil he had ever come across, which was feeding off electricity for its own power. It was also taking it from the family. The electricity board tested the meter twice and found it to be working correctly with no abnormal fluctuation.

Apparently, the Rich family was troubled by various sinister manifestations until they finally fled the house in 1995.  Subsequent residents did not report anything unusual, which just shows that you can never tell with poltergeists.

Monday, August 25, 2025

A Car Bombing in Texarkana




There is something particularly sinister about murders that not only go unsolved, but where it is impossible to even find the motive for the killing.  Such an unaccountable act of evil leaves onlookers with the horrified thought, “For all I know, that could have been me…”  The following mystery is one of those cases.

36-year-old Daryl Crouch was president of a successful family-owned pharmaceutical company, the Walsh-Lumpkin Drug Co.,  in Texarkana, Texas.  He and his wife, Jan, appeared to be happily married, and they adored their 10-year-old daughter, Sandy.  Daryl was described as “one of this city’s most promising young businessmen,” a civic leader who was “always a man spreading good will.”  He was a likable fellow who had no known enemies or notable personal problems.  In short, he was among the last people you’d think anyone would want to see dead.

However, as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, someone did.

On the evening of February 2, 1987, Crouch left his office to have dinner with his wife and daughter.  Afterwards, Jan (whose father founded the company) went to her husband’s office to use the copy machine.  The family then left the building.  Daryl and Sandy got into his Mercedes, while Jan returned to her Lincoln Continental.

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion that could be heard for blocks away, and the Mercedes turned into a fireball.  Sandy Crouch miraculously managed to escape the car with only minor burns, but Daryl was killed instantly.  The blast was powerful enough to destroy three nearby autos.  A 30-inch hole was blown in the floorboard of the Mercedes directly under the driver’s seat.  No one in Texarkana had ever seen anything like it.  Someone had managed to place beneath the vehicle a pipe bomb that was designed to be very, very lethal.  (Police were unable to determine how the bomb was detonated, as Daryl had yet to start the car, but it was thought possible that it was set off by remote control.)

This unusually brutal murder of one of the city’s most well-known and well-liked residents left Texarkanans understandably shocked--and frightened.  People were afraid to leave their parked cars unattended.  Police struggled to determine not just who placed that bomb under Crouch’s car, but why.  Rattled citizens demanded answers that no one seemed able to provide.

Unsurprisingly, the local rumor mill attempted to fill this vacuum.  Some speculated that Crouch was not murdered at all, but staged an unusual suicide.  This theory was fueled by the fact that Crouch had recently resigned his position on the board of Security Savings Association (a major local thrift institution.)  The past December, the institution had posted a $62 million deficit.  However, spokespeople for Security Savings insisted that the timing of Crouch’s resignation and his death was a mere tragic coincidence.  Crouch had planned to retire from the board for some time, in order to concentrate on his other business interests.  They pointed out that the financial institution had options for dealing with the deficit, such as cash infusions or mergers.  Besides, even if Crouch had considered suicide, his friends found it impossible to believe that he would have done so in a way that risked the lives of his wife and daughter.

Police also examined an odd incident that took place the previous summer.  Walsh-Lumpkin received an anonymous phone call saying that the company’s products would be poisoned unless they paid an undisclosed amount of money.  The caller--whoever he or she may have been--was never heard from again, so at the time, the threat was shrugged off as a sick prank.  However, after Crouch’s death, persistent rumors arose that this extortion attempt somehow led Daryl to fear for his family’s safety.  Jan denied such claims.  “He had absolutely no idea something like this was going to happen,” she said.  “If he had, he would have said, ‘Look we need to do so and so.  We need to be real careful.”

The car-bombing is one of those inexplicable crimes where there is very little to report about the matter.  Despite their most diligent efforts, police were utterly unable to find even a remotely plausible suspect, and the motive to blow to bits a seemingly thoroughly respectable and popular businessman remained equally unknown.  To date, the murder of Daryl Crouch remains one of Texarkana’s most unnerving cold cases.

Friday, August 22, 2025

Weekend Link Dump

 


Welcome to this week's Link Dump!

Although I regret to note that the Strange Company HQ staffers are becoming a bit egocentric.



The notorious murder of a 19th century prostitute.

Why you probably wouldn't enjoy a ride in an 18th century sedan chair.

Kansas is seeing a lot of UFOs.

An ocean discovery may provide clues about extraterrestrial life.

A legendary "act of insane heroism."

A mysterious cave monument in Thailand.

Summer drink recipes from the Prohibition era.

From prisoner to politician.  Yeah, the jokes sorta write themselves.

The oldest trout in the Great Lakes.

The life of Victorian author Isabella Banks.

Stone Age warfare was pretty nasty.

A famed painter's unconventional cousin.

A regicide's eulogy for a squirrel.

A man has spent years blocking UK traffic, because everyone needs a purpose in life, I guess.

A brief history of the full English breakfast.

I suppose it's not unreasonable to make sure someone is dead before you bury them.

An archaeologist studies Viking seamanship.

The world's scariest library.

The strange death of Blair Adams.

How Davy Crockett became an icon.

"Reconstructing" two Stone Age miners.

Another one for the "rewriting human history" file.

That wraps it up for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll look at an unsolved car bombing.  In the meantime, here's a bit of Haydn.

Wednesday, August 20, 2025

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com



I thought it was time for this blog to have a little romance, and what better setting than an undertaker’s establishment?  The “Trenton Times,” January 23, 1911:


NEW YORK, Jan. 23.--Mrs. Josephine Grasso, wife of Leonardo, whose friends describe him as one of the most popular undertakers in Sullivan street, won a decree of divorce yesterday after she had convinced Justice Sutherland in the supreme court that "Mike,” her husband's efficient assistant, was none other than Marie Bondi, a remarkably pretty girl. The undertaker's wife testified that Miss Bondi, who is twenty-three years old, was so fond of Grasso that she masqueraded as a young man that she might always be near him, and that much of their lovemaking had been carried on in the back room of the Grasso undertaking establishment at No. 146 Sullivan street, when Grasso and "Mike" were supposed to be absorbed in preparations for a funeral.


Mrs. Grasso said also that Marie Bondi in her character of "Mike" passed a great deal of time riding around on a burial wagon with Grasso, and that not even the trappings and habiliments of woe with which they were environed had any deterrent effect upon their blithe demonstrations of affection.


It was when a client of Grasso entered the undertaking establishment to inquire about the cost of a funeral that the fact that "Mike" was not a "Mike" at all, but a Marie, became known. This client said that as he entered the back room of the shop he was disturbed in his finer sensibilities to see Grasso and "Mike" sitting side by side in front of a row of coffins, their arms about each other's waists and their faces closer together than is the usual custom for undertakers and their first grave diggers. The client was so perturbed that he went away without ordering a funeral.


He thought it was his duty to tell Mrs. Grasso what he had seen. Mrs. Grasso, who believes that It is better to see than to hear, made some purchases herself, as the result of which she had "Mike" arrested, charged with having masqueraded as a man. The young woman was arraigned in a magistrate's court and fined.  She was also told to resume the apparel proper to her sex. 


It was after this appearance in court that "Mike" disappeared from the list of Grasso's assistants. Mrs. Grasso maintains that although her husband and Miss Bondi ceased to occupy the positions of employer and employee, there was no break in their tenderer ties. She said her husband became more devoted than ever after Miss Bondi had substituted feminine garments for the blue serge suit she used to wear as "Mike" and discarded the green goggles behind which "Mike" had shaded the brilliance of Marie's fine brown eyes.


Justice Sutherland listened with interest to the disclosures about the goings on in Grasso's undertaking establishment and at the conclusion of the testimony granted a decree to Mrs. Grasso, with alimony.

Monday, August 18, 2025

In Which Ennio La Sarza Has A Very Bad Day At Work

The Garson Nickel Mine, circa 1920



Accounts of UFO encounters can be--considering the subject matter--surprisingly dull.  However, the following tale, recorded in the famed pages of “U.S. Project Blue Book” was colorful enough to catch my attention.  It was recorded by a Buffalo, New York minister named Charles Beck who had a side career as a UFO researcher.


The story was related to Beck by a 23-year-old native of Italy, Ennio La Sarza.  In 1954, he was working at a nickel mining company in Garson, Canada.  At about 5 p.m. on July 2, La Sarza was alone, busy with a painting job on the mine premises, when he was startled by the sight of an object coming down from the sky with “several times the speed of a jet plane.”  Just before it would have crashed into the earth, the object slowed down and hovered just above the ground.  La Sarza noticed that the grass beneath the strange craft was now scorched.  The object was spherical in shape, about 25 feet in diameter, and had a ring of what looked like portholes around it.  It had what appeared to be landing gear on the bottom and something resembling an antenna on top.


After a moment, three very bizarre beings came out of the craft.  They were about 13 feet tall and blue-green in color.  They seemed to glow.  The creatures all had one eye in the center of their foreheads, six sets of hairy appendages with crablike claws at the ends, and twin antenna sprouting from their heads.


In short, these beings were not your average extraterrestrials.


When one of the beings started to approach La Sarza, he did the only sensible thing: namely, begin to run like hell.  However, the being fixed the young man with a hypnotic stare that paralyzed him.  La Sarza then heard a voice inside his head which demanded that he do…something.  The horror of what was happening to him caused him to faint.  When he came to, the craft and its sinister occupants were gone.


We will--possibly fortunately--never know what the being wanted La Sarza to do, as he refused to divulge it to his later interviewers.  He said only that he would “rather die” than comply with the creature’s wishes.  In fact, La Sarza remained so terrified of what “they” had told him to do, that he later asked authorities to jail him, for his own safety.  (It was pointed out to him that, considering the capabilities these creatures seemed to have, imprisonment probably would not help.)


Beck and others who later interviewed La Sarza (including several psychiatrists) said he appeared completely sane.  He was described as a “model citizen with a good record,” who gained nothing from the often unflattering publicity his story attracted.  La Sarza told Beck that he was aware of how “crazy” his tale sounded, but he could not retract any of it.


I have only one thing to add:  I’ll probably go to my grave wondering what in hell that alien ordered him to do.

Friday, August 15, 2025

Weekend Link Dump

 


Welcome!

It seems appropriate for this week's Link Dump to be hosted by an authentic 16th century witch's cat.

Just be careful how you pet him.  You don't want to turn into a frog.



What the hell is 31/Atlas?  And do we really want to know?

One of the first celebrity dogs.

A pitchfork murder.

Paging Graham Hancock!

A visit to Christ Church, Spitalfields.

There's really nothing like morgue humor.

The mystery of the Hopkinsville goblins.

Remembering VJ Day, 1945.

Poland's first encyclopedia.

The puzzling Sabu Disk.

Who were the first storytellers?

The long history of people falling out of windows.

"Visitations" in medieval England.

Some important historical jewelry.

The difference between jealousy and envy.

Did you know that Van Gogh ate paint?  News to me.

Why Beethoven was not black.

An invincible lock.

The fear of Ouija boards.  It's possible I'm wrong, of course, but I knew someone who "played" with Ouija boards, and I'm convinced it opened them up to spirits you really don't want to meet.

The man who was eaten by an apple tree.

The remains of a man who disappeared in Antarctica in 1959 have finally been found.

The "least foolish woman in France."

The 19th century ice trade.

A weird Stone Age skull.

Fatalities at a brothel.

That's it for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll meet some very weird extraterrestrials.  In the meantime, here's a bit of lute music.

And trains.

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com



Here’s an early version of those “aliens killed my livestock” stories.  (Just keep in mind that when old newspapers trotted out the "told by a person of unimpeachable veracity" card, that usually meant, "buyer beware.")  The “St. Louis Globe Democrat,” April 27, 1897:

Special Dispatch to the Globe. TOPEKA, KAN., April 26.-Millions have laughed at the Kansas air-ship, but the thing is no joke to farmer Alexander Hamilton, who resides near Yates Center, Woodson County. The air-ship not only appeared in plain view of Hamilton and his family, and frightened them out of their wits, but the captain of the vessel had the nerve to swoop down upon the cow lot and steal a 2-year-old heifer. At any rate, that is what Hamilton says, and a dozen well-known citizens, including State Oil Inspector E. V. Wharton, Sheriff M. E. Hunt and Banker H. H. Winter, testify that Hamilton's reputation for truth and veracity has never been questioned.

Hamilton claims that the air-ship visited his place a week ago to-night. He told the country people about it, but the report did not reach Yates Center till Saturday. 

"Last Monday night about 10:30 o'clock," Hamilton said, “we were awakened by a noise among the cattle. I rose, thinking perhaps my bulldog was performing some of his pranks, but upon going to the door saw to my utter astonishment an air-ship slowly descending over my cow lot, about 40 rods from the house.

"Calling Gid Heslip, my tenant, and my son Wall, we seized some axes and ran to the corral. Meantime the ship had been gently descending until it was not more than 30 feet above the ground, and ed of a great cigar-shaped a portion, possibly we came to within 50 yards of it. It consisted of a great cigar-shaped portion, 300 feet long, with a carriage underneath. The carriage was made of panels of glass or other transparent substance, alternating with a narrow strip of some material. It was brilliantly lighted within and everything was clearly visible. There were three lights, one light an immense searchlight and two smaller, one red and the other green.

"The large one was susceptible of being turned in any direction. It was occupied by six of the strangest beings I ever saw. There were two men, a woman and three children. They were jabbering together, but we could not understand a syllable they said. 

"Every part of the vessel which was not transparent was of a dark reddish color. We stood mute in wonder and fright, when some noise attracted their attention and they turned their light directly upon us.  Immediately upon catching sight of us they turned on some unknown power, and a great turbine wheel, about 30 feet in diameter, which was slowly revolving below the craft, began to buzz, sounding precisely like the cylinder of a separator, and the vessel rose as lightly as a bird. When about 300 feet above us it seemed to pause and hover directly over a 2-year-old heifer, which was bawling and jumping, apparently fast in the fence. Going to her, we found a cable about half an inch in thickness, made of the same red material, fastened in a slip-knot around her neck, one end passing up to the vessel, and the heifer tangled in the wire fence. We tried to get it off, but could not, so we cut the wire loose and stood in amazement to see the ship, heifer and all rise slowly, disappearing in the northwest. We went home, but I was so frightened I could not sleep.

"Rising early Tuesday morning, I mounted my horse and started out, hoping to find some trace of my cow. This I failed to do, but coming back to Leroy in the evening found that Link Thomas, who lives in Coffey County, about three or four miles west of Leroy, had found the hide, legs and head in his field that day. He, thinking some one had butchered a stolen beast and thrown the hide away, had brought it to town for identification, but was greatly mystified in not being able to find any tracks in the soft ground. After identifying the hide by my brand, I went home, but every time I would drop to sleep would see the cursed thing, with its big lights and hideous people.  I don't know whether they are devils or angels, or what; but we all saw them, and my whole family saw the ship, and I don't want any more to do with them.”  

The Yates Center "Advocate" said that Hamilton looked as if he had not recovered from the shock, and every one who heard him was convinced that he was sincere in every word he uttered. Hamilton has long been a resident of Kansas, and is known all over Woodson, Allen, Coffey and Anderson Counties. He was a member of the House of Representatives early in the 70s. He staked his sacred honor upon the truthfulness of the story. 

The following affidavit is given in support of Hamilton's reputation as a truthful man: 

"Affidavit--State of Kansas, County of Woodson--ss.: As there are now, always have been and always skeptics and unbelievers whenever there truth or anything bordering upon the improbable is presented, and knowing that some ignorant or suspicious people will doubt the truthfulness of the above statement, now, therefore, we, the undersigned, do hereby make the following affidavit: That we have known Alexander Hamilton from one to thirty years, and that for truth and veracity we have never heard questioned, and that we do verily believe his statement to be true and correct. 

"E.V. Wharton, state oil Inspector: M.E. Hunt, Sheriff; W. Lauber, deputy sheriff, H.H. Winter, banker; H.S. Johnson, pharmacist; J.H. Stitcher, attorney; Alexander Stewart, justice of the peace; H. Waymyer, druggist; F. W. Butler, druggist; James W. Martin, Register of Deeds; Rollins, postmaster. 

"Subscribed and sworn to before me this 21st day of April, 1897. 

"W. C. WILLE, Notary Public”

Monday, August 11, 2025

The Ghost of Mary Catherine




One of the great charms of old houses is that the many occupants it sees during its long history leave behind many varied and interesting stories.  The Stockton home in Richmond, Kentucky, is no exception.

The large, white, three-story house was built in 1880 by pharmacist Robert C. Stockton.  It remained in the family until 1937, when Stockton family history took a tragic turn.  The home's owner at that time was Edward Stockton, son of the man who built it.  After his pharmacy business was ruined by the Great Depression, Edward sought an end to his troubles by taking poison.  His death and funeral both took place in the family home.

After Edward Stockton's suicide, the home was occupied by various families.  None of them reported anything unusual until June 1983, when the house was bought by David M. Jones and his wife.  Mr. Jones was an attorney and Mrs. Jones was, coincidentally enough, a pharmacist.  If one is a believer in Fate, synchronicity--or perhaps just a cosmic bond between druggists--this might help explain what came next.

A few days after the Joneses moved in, a picture in the dining room suddenly and inexplicably came loose from its nail and crashed to the floor.  Then, a lamp in the front hallway began going on and off on its own.  When the couple replaced it with a new lamp, the same thing happened.

On the night of July 19, 1983, things really began to get weird.  At about 2:20 a.m., Mr. Jones suddenly awakened to a most disconcerting sight:  a woman was standing at the foot of the bed.  He later said, "It was just like what you would envision a ghost to look like.  She was dressed in layers and layers, vapory, flowing.  It was not really something physical, but more like an image."  The apparition had blond shoulder-length hair, sunken eyes with blackish-blue eyelids, and deep half-moon creases about the mouth.  "You could tell she was very upset," he added.

I would bet that Mr. Jones was, as well.

The being began to speak to him, in a voice that was deep and coarse and "wasn't human."  All he could make out from what she said were the words "picture" and "funeral."  Then the spirit vanished.

The next morning, the couple found that baskets that had been hanging in the kitchen were now scattered over the floor.  This postscript to Mr. Jones' uncanny encounter emboldened him to tell his wife of what he had experienced.  Mrs. Jones, probably thinking her husband was in need of one of her prescriptions, treated his story with skepticism.

She did not remain a doubter for long.  Not long afterward, Mr. Jones began to clear out a small attic-like room on the third floor.  It was full of old papers, boxes, and knick-knacks--the sort of relics that any old house inevitably accumulates.  And then he came across an oil painting dated "January 27, 1891."  It was a portrait of an old woman, dressed in mourning.

The old woman who had appeared by his bed.

Mr. Jones took the painting to a psychic, who confirmed that yes indeed, this was a portrait of his ghost, who was probably lingering in the home because of the death of some loved one.  After doing some research, Mr. Jones surmised that the ghost was Mary Catherine, wife of Edward Dorsey Stockton, who died in 1891.  Mary Catherine passed away in 1898, at the age of 69.  On the psychic's advice, the Joneses had the portrait re-framed and hung it in the dining room.

The psychic told Mr. Jones that he would probably see the ghost again around Christmas, as the spirit was fond of that holiday.  The psychic advised him, "You will look into a huge mirror with a gold frame around it in the hallway, and see her sitting in the background."

The psychic was a bit off on her timeline.  Mary Catherine did not make herself visible again until February 1984.  One day, Mr. Jones happened to glance into the mirror in the front hallway..and, sure enough, there she was, sitting in a chair in the parlor.  Some time after that, even though he was alone in the house, he felt a warm spot on the couch in the parlor, as if someone had just sat there.  

Although Mr. Jones felt the ghost was friendly and harmless, he developed a distaste for being in the house alone.  Oddly enough, his wife never saw any sign of the spirit.  However, according to the psychic, Mary Catherine enjoyed watching Mrs. Jones in the kitchen. 

On Memorial Day 1985, the Joneses visited a grave in Richmond Cemetery.  As they went past the graves of the Stocktons, they noticed that the tombstone of Matthew, son of Mary Catherine, had fallen over.  The next morning, a lamp in their dining room began flashing on and off in a particularly pointed manner.

By this time, Mr. Jones had become fluent in ghost-speak.  He said aloud, "All right, Mrs. Stockton, I'm going to call the cemetery and have them put Matthew's tombstone back up."  The lamp never flickered again.

The Stockton home was next door to the fraternity house of Tau Kappa Epsilon.  Some of the members informed the Joneses that during the two years the home was empty before the couple moved in, lights could be seen periodically going on and off inside the residence.  A past president of the fraternity, Todd Taylor, had briefly lived on the second floor of the Stockton home.  On several occasions, he heard doors open and shut, when he knew no one else was around.  He never saw Mary Catherine.  However, there were times when he thought she was in his room at night, but he was too frightened to open his eyes to check.  "Now, I'm not saying there is a ghost, but I'm not saying there isn't, either," he commented, adding, "there are some awfully suspicious things."

In October 1985, the "Lexington Herald Leader" did a story on the Stockton family ghost.  Subsequently, a man who had lived in the house in the 1970s contacted Jones.  He said he had had experiences very similar to what Mr. Jones was going through.  Although the newspaper had not given any detailed description of the ghost, this caller was able to describe Mary Catherine perfectly.

A few years ago, author Keven McQueen contacted the Joneses, who confirmed to him that Mary Catherine was still one very lively spirit.  Although his wife never did see the ghost, Mr. Jones would encounter her on a regular basis, developing an odd sort of fondness for his spirit houseguest.  Mrs. Jones' father lived in the house with them until his death in 1989.  Every now and then, he would comment, "There's a haint in this house."  He refused to elaborate on this statement.

On one occasion, the Joneses were having a dinner party.  As everyone sat around the table, they all were treated to the sight of drawers of a sideboard opening and closing on their own. 

"Who's doing that?" one of the guests asked.

"Mrs. Stockton," came the obvious reply.

On another day, a friend was visiting the house.  As she and Mr. Jones were chatting, the visitor suddenly grew pale and quiet.  Jones immediately surmised that Mary Catherine was in the vicinity.  The visitor admitted that she had seen a woman standing in a doorway.  The ghost was all in black, with her hair in a black net.  (Curiously, Mrs. Stockton had previously always worn white.  Even more oddly, this guest was the only known woman to have seen the ghost.  For whatever inexplicable paranormal reasons, Mary Catherine liked to show herself only to males.)

The Joneses told McQueen that the psychic who had advised them about the painting had told them that eventually they would have a son, which would greatly please Mrs. Stockton.  In 1993, they were indeed blessed with a baby boy.  Although they never mentioned the ghost to their son, Mary Catherine soon made herself known to him.  When he was only a toddler, he would complain to his parents about the "witch" who lived at the top of the stairs.

The last time Mr. Jones saw Mary Catherine was in 1998, when she mumbled something about a fan.  Just to see what would happen, he bought an old-fashioned cardboard fan and left it on a desk.  The fan subsequently would vanish and reappear in odd places throughout the house.

In 2001, the Joneses moved out of the house, giving the new owner fair warning about their spectral tenant.  This latest owner of the home was not a believer in ghosts. One of the first things he did was to take down the portrait of Mrs. Stockton.  Soon afterward, he lost his job.  His mother came to visit, and died on her first night there.

Mary Catherine was not a ghost to be crossed.

Friday, August 8, 2025

Weekend Link Dump

 


Welcome to this week's Link Dump!

And later, feel free to join the Strange Company staffers for a stroll.


The last of the Dionne quintuplets.  (I have to admit, I didn't know any of them were still living.)

The last of the medieval Minnesingers.

Mongolia, where dogs are both sacred and profane.

How Josiah Wedgwood went from pottery to politics.

Why our mouths have roofs rather than ceilings.

In which we learn that peacocks have lasers in their tails.

The narrator whispers, "Maybe they had boats."

A heroic naval artist.

It seems that ancient Romans camped out in the ruins of Pompeii.  An eerie thought, really.

You wouldn't want to breathe prehistoric air.

A new book reexamines WWI.

The Werewolf of Bedburg.

The UFOs of Rendlesham Forest.

The strange death of attorney Jonathan Luna.

Desi Arnaz, television revolutionary.

A mysterious shipwreck survivor.

Solving the mystery of Winston Churchill's dead platypus.

A "swashbuckling Tudor mercenary."

An actor with a devilish grin.

Terrorism in 1890s Paris.

A brief history of the word "dude."

Things Jane Austen disliked.

"Spirit in the Sky," the song that just won't go away.

Bow Cemetery in summer.

The Susquehanna "mammalian monsters."

A look at Japanese cat lore.

How DNA sent German police on a wild goose chase.

19th century sun stroke victims in the morgue.

The invention of corn dogs.

Just when you think the CIA can't get any weirder...

The papers of a noted philologist.

A "lost" story by Mark Twain.

The Walworth parricide.

That's it for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll meet a very touchy ghost.  In the meantime, here's the one and only Spike Jones.

Wednesday, August 6, 2025

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com



The following item was something the editors of the “London Times” did not expect to find advertised in their paper.  May 10, 1861:

Coblentz, April 25, 1861. In an almost impenetrable ravine in the declivity of Mount Rheineck, which is situate immediately on the banks of the Rhine, between Brohl and Nioderbrel (a district of the Tribunal of First Instance of Cobleutz, Rhenish-Prussia), on the 22d of last March, was found the body of some person, a female, from 20 to 30 years of age, or thereabout, concealed in a recess, covered with large stones. The period of decease cannot be precisely determined. Death was caused by a ball shot from a gun, which traversed the breast and back. Description --height 5ft. 2 or 3 inches hair, fair; teeth, sound, small, and somewhat irregularly set in the lower jaw. Chemise, cambric, 3 ft. 6 inches long, the upper hem forming a running string, with two eyelet-holes, two fine and even cords passing through in the centre of the round breast of the chemise, and below the eyelet-holes, the initials " A. E. 36" are embroidered in Gothic characters, in relief, half an inch long.

2. A nightgown of fine white dimity, collar turned down, 2 ft. 3 inches, with white mother-of-pearl buttons; some remains of a fine material, with brown and white stripes (jaconot muslin); in the white stripe is a small winding white line, with red spots. In the vicinity of the body have been found the remnants of a petticoat, 3 feet 2 inches long; it is composed of fine white dimity, striped, the same material as the nightgown. On the upper edge, which is an inch and half broad, with white riband strings, are embroidered in white letters, 2 1/2 lines, in relief, and in large characters of the German printed alphabet, the initials “M. R., 6.” The bottom hem is finished with cord in linen thread.

The fine quality of the materials and the elegant make of all these articles indicate that the victim belonged to a rich class. In consequence of the state of putrefaction and external destruction it is impossible to notice other marks of recognition. I request of any person who can give information concerning this unknown individual, and the circumstances of her death, to be so good as to furnish me with the particulars, else to communicate them to the nearest magistrates. The articles of dress above mentioned, together with the lower jaw, are deposited for inspection at my office. The Crown Prosecutor-General, DE RODENBERG.

I have been unable to find if the mystery of the woman’s identity--let alone who murdered her--was ever solved.

Monday, August 4, 2025

Murder by Toothbrush: The Strange Case of Tita Cristescu




1930s Romania may not have been a paradise for most people, but for a young Bucharest actress named Tita Cristescu, life was pretty darned good.  She was well-connected (her father, Gheorghe Cristescu, was a prominent figure in Romanian politics,) she had a successful theatrical career, and was pretty enough to be named “Miss Romania” of 1933.  Tita was engaged to be married to Hotta Cuza, a young Romanian diplomat.  She seemed perfectly happy, and was full of hope for the future.


One January night in 1936, Tita’s parents came over to her apartment for dinner, leaving about 11:30 p.m.  After her parents left, Tita told her maid, Maria, to go to bed.  As she spoke, she took a capsule from a box and swallowed it.  Maria assumed it was one of the “reducing capsules” Tita took every night.  Maria went to bed, but was awakened half and hour later by Tita’s sister, Mrs. Mikai Gregorian.  Mrs. Gregorian, her voice shaking with fear, told the maid, “Get a doctor, at once.  Tita is very ill.”


Maria hurried from the apartment, but by the time she returned with a physician, Tita was dead.  Mrs. Gregorian told the doctor that, while passing by the apartment building, she noticed that her sister’s light was still on, so dropped by for a brief visit.  Tita was wearing a negligee, and was in her usual high spirits.  However, after chatting for a few minutes, Tita suddenly went silent and stared ahead blankly.  She fell onto a chair and said, “Get me a glass of water.  Something is going on inside me.  I am thirsty all of a sudden and I have a dreadful taste in my mouth which is queer because I have just brushed my teeth.”


She gulped down the water, but then dropped the glass.  She turned very pale and gasped, “I am going to be awfully sick.  Get a doctor.”  By the time Mrs. Gregorian awakened Maria, Tita had fallen unconscious.  Several minutes later, she died.


When the police heard all this, their assumption was that, despite Tita’s seemingly ideal life, the young woman had committed suicide.  Actresses, they nodded sagely, were notoriously unstable, and beauty queens were the worst of the lot.  Besides, who would want to kill her? When the autopsy revealed Tita had died from cyanide poisoning, the authorities believed it was “case closed.”  They were ready to label the death as a tragic self-poisoning, and move on.


Tita’s parents were outraged at this verdict.  They were convinced their daughter had been murdered, and they even had what they believed to be an obvious suspect: a wealthy engineer named Liviu Ciulley.  Ciulley, they declared, had been in love with Tita, and was maddened with jealousy over her plans to marry another man.  Police scoffed at this theory.  They pointed out that Ciulley had been married for ten years, and had shown no signs of wanting a divorce.  Gheorghe Cristescu was unpopular among many circles--a contemporary newspaper described him as “a socialist demagogue of the most radical and spectacular sort”--so few people took his claims seriously.  However, the sudden and mysterious death of a beautiful young actress was like catnip to the newspapers.  Tita’s demise became a genuine public scandal.


The publicity forced the authorities to reopen the case, which included questioning Liviu Ciulley.  Ciulley told police that for five years, he and Tita had a secret affair, but more than a year ago, he became tired of the her and broke off their relationship.  He added that in recent times, Tita had financial problems, and was always pestering him for loans.  As a result of this harassment, he was positively relieved to hear of her marriage plans.  Furthermore, he could prove that for more than a week before Tita’s death, he had been with his family in Sinaia, a considerable distance from Bucharest.


Ciulley seemed sincere, and police were able to confirm his alibi.  However, investigators also turned up something that seemed to contradict the suicide theory: The night Tita died, she had asked the daughter of her apartment building’s janitor to wake her very early the next morning, as she had a lot of shopping to do.  The police were not yet convinced of Ciulley’s innocence.


A search of Ciulley’s apartment found nothing incriminating.  When police visited the home and office of his brother, a doctor named Alexandra Ciulley, they initially saw nothing suspicious there, either.  Then, a particularly snoopy detective found a glass syringe hidden under a sheaf of bills.


The detective noted that when he found the syringe, a look of fear suddenly crossed Dr. Ciulley’s face.  “What did you hide that for?” the detective asked.  The doctor hesitated, but after a bit of pressing, said that a month before, he had loaned a syringe to his brother, because Liviu said he needed to give injections to his children, who were suffering from sore throats.  Alexandra continued, “When I heard that my brother was charged with having poisoned the actress, I got frightened.  I knew that he was madly in love with Tita Critescu, and I had a terrible suspicion that he might, in point of fact, have committed the murder.  I was afraid that if the police found the syringe in his flat, they might feel justified in their suspicion that my unfortunate brother had injected the poison into the girl’s reducing capsules and would consider the syringe as decisive proof.  I wanted to remove it before the police found it, and on Friday, January 10, I went to my brother’s flat to hide the syringe somehow.”


Alexandra said that when he went to Liviu’s flat, his brother was not there.  He found the syringe in the nursery, but he didn’t know what to do with it.  He finally threw some parts of the syringe down a narrow street, keeping only the glass cylinder.  Detectives went to the place where Alexandra said he had thrown the items, and sure enough, there they were.  When police confronted Liviu, he calmly replied, “My brother is a fool, trying to destroy evidence that is not evidence or I would have destroyed it myself.”  However, after further interrogation, he was forced to admit that he had lied when he said he no longer cared for Tita.  Things became even worse for Liviu when they found witnesses who asserted that the morning before Tita died, he had made a quick trip to Bucharest.  The following day, after the news of Tita’s death hit the papers, Liviu wanted to visit her apartment, but his wife, who knew of his affair with the actress, went into such hysterics at the idea that she threatened to shoot herself.  (I would have thought that her husband would have been the one she wanted to pump full of bullets, but I digress.)


Police assumed that Liviu had wanted to go to Tita’s flat in order to remove something incriminating, but what?  If the “reducing capsule” had been poisoned, Tita had taken the last one in the box.  Then, it occurred to them that right before she died, Tita mentioned that she had just brushed her teeth.  A second, more careful autopsy revealed that her gums were deeply impregnated with cyanide.  Traces of the poison were found on her toothbrush, and her half-empty tube of toothpaste contained a massive dose of it.


The question of how Tita died was finally answered.  Someone had taken off the cap of toothpaste, used a syringe to squirt a fatal dose of cyanide into the tube, and replaced the cap.  


Unfortunately, the question of who did this dreadful deed was not solved so easily.  Liviu Ciulley was put on trial for murder, but although his actions were certainly suspicious, prosecutors were unable to bring an airtight case against him.  Under oath, his servants denied that he had left his house before Tita’s death.  The jury brought in a verdict of “Not guilty.”


After Ciulley’s acquittal, the police half-heartedly continued their investigation for a time before admitting defeat and placing Tita’s poisoning into the cold case file.  The mystery is still discussed in Romanian true-crime circles--in recent years, rumors have emerged that Tita’s maid, Maria, poisoned her employer out of jealousy—but the young actress’s peculiar murder remains as murky as ever.