Newspaper Clippings of the Christmas Day

It’s very nearly Christmas, so for the benefit of last-minute shoppers, I present the Strange Company Gift List, courtesy of that popular friend of this blog, the Santa Claus of Death!

[All clippings via Newspapers.com]

Our first story illustrates why I always advise against Homeowner’s Associations: exorbitant fees, capricious regulations, and a strong chance of finding turkey feet under the tree.  The “Tacoma News Tribune,” December 28, 1992:

A Spanaway man found a rather gruesome "gift” in a size-7 shoe box near his yard Christmas morning, sheriff’s deputies reported. 

The package--wrapped in teddy-bear Christmas wrapping and purportedly “From Santa"--contained no shoes, but rather two freshly severed turkey feet. 

The man told deputies he’s had ongoing feuds with a local developer and his neighborhood association and believed either may be responsible for the "present."

One would think that nothing expresses Christmas cheer like a memorial of a mass execution, but I suppose Colonel Mosby was just a spoilsport.  The “Staunton Spectator,” December 16, 1897:

Col. John S. Mosby, who is the guest of his son in-law, Mr. Robert R. Campbell, received last week by express a limb from the walnut tree in the vicinity of Front Royal, from which Custer hung ten of his scouts. By mail the same day came a letter from Mr. Charlie Dear, in which he presents the wood, with his compliments, and expresses a wish that the Colonel have a cane made from it. In speaking of the incident, Colonel Mosby said: "I was much vexed with Charlie Dear, who was one of my best soldiers, at sending me a memento of such a ghastly episode. I wrote him in answer that I would not design to handle his gift with a fork or a pair of tongs and would have preferred something that would make me forget rather than remember the dread affair."

Stumped for Christmas entertainment?  Bring on the dead monkeys!  The “Brooklyn Times Union,” December 29, 1897:

STONY BROOK, Dec. 29. Stony Brook possesses a disciple of Aesculapius who has a particular fondness for playing practical jokes, always of a harmless nature, upon his best friends.  This physician is no other than popular Dr. J. Alvin Squire, allround athlete, crack shot with rifle, gun or pistol, judge of trotters and practical politicians. Numerous attempts have been made to catch the wily chirurgeon in some trap or another, but in vain. He could never be caught napping. All practical jokes attempted at his expense acted like an Australian boomerang thrown by an amateur--they hurt the jokers most. “All things come to him who waits,” said Napoleon. The doctors cronies waited. They had their reward last Christmas Day. 

The doctor had been out late and found his house in darkness when he came home. He entered his office, feeling his way in the dark for the match-box. He nearly broke his neck when he stumbled over something that should not have been on the floor, and the genial doctor said something very mildly. He soon got a light and looked for the cause of his fall. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed, "What's this!” It was a coffin-shaped box and was addressed to himself. The doctor scratched his head and pinched himself. He got down and opened the box. “Now! By the great Jupiter and cornstarched Halifax!” He yelled, "What is this? Am I dreaming?" He pinched himself again. Than he paid a visit to a cupboard and took a few drops of medicine. Again he got down on his knees. He examined the strange object before him most attentively. He did not hear smothered snickering in the next room. He was too deeply interested in the object before him. He put down his hand and lifted a tiny arm covered with an unnatural growth of hair. A sudden thought struck the man of medicine. He pulled down the thick veil that concealed the face. 

"Great Scott! It’s a monkey!” he cried out, as a look of abject disgust and fierce scorn covered his visage. “Ah,” he muttered, "that's one on me! Thought I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a baby and a monkey, eh? Well, now, I guess they're not so smart as they thought they were. Good thing they didn't see me fooled, though, or they'd never stop chaffing me. Guess I know what I’ll do! I'll put the monkey to bed alongside of my wife, and then wake her up! I'll be even with someone." 

With these remarks the astute doctor began to very carefully take what be believed to be a dead monkey out of its coffin. No sooner had he got it in his arms than a look of blank dismay filled his eyes; his mouth opened wide and he seemed to be sick.  “My Heavens!” he exclaimed, "it's only a stuffed one!" and he threw it angrily on the floor as a flood of light lit up the next room, showing the doctor's wife and several friends convulsed with laughter. Tableau vivant!

And now we come to several suggestions for adding a body count to your “Secret Santa” exchange.  First up is this item from the “Billings Gazette,” December 27, 1905:

Albany, N.Y., Dec. 26. Miss Elsie Smith, who was "Queen Titania" in the Albany Halloween carnival of 1904, today reported to the police that she received through the mail yesterday a box of candy containing poison. Chocolate drops in the box had been opened and the poison spread within. A druggist, who analyzed the contents, declares that the candy contained enough paris green and other poisons to kill the whole family. 

Miss Smith professes entire ignorance of any one who would desire to injure her, but believes the poison was sent by a girl. The police and post office authorities are investigating.

This next story proves that paris green was quite a popular holiday shopping item back in the day.  The “Pittsburgh Weekly Gazette,” December 19, 1904:

PRINCETON. N. J., Dec. 18. (Special.) William Lutz, a businessman of this place, received through the mail yesterday a neatly wrapped package and a letter bearing the Princeton postmark, which read as follows: "Friend Will--Accept this little token as a Christmas present, hoping you will enjoy it, with greetings.” The letter was unsigned. Lutz found the tobacco contained 18 grains of arsenic and 13 grains of paris green.

Even in recent years, there are those gift givers who really want to start Christmas off with a bang.  The “Philadelphia Daily News,” December 23, 1992:

A British soldier on duty in Northern Ireland was given a potentially deadly Christmas gift of a booby-trapped tin of chocolates yesterday, police said. A motorist he stopped at a checkpoint presented him with the package, they said. Suspicions were aroused when he returned to base in the town with the gift and army experts found and defused a two-pound Semtex bomb hidden among the candies inside.

And so ends this year’s tribute to the Yuletide season!  I sincerely hope all of you have a very happy holiday, and if you have the sort of relatives who leave coffined monkeys in your path, at least now you know what to put in their chocolates and tobacco.