Weekend Link Dump

 

Welcome to this week's Link Dump, where we're all full of brotherly love!

Watch out for the Fresno Nightcrawler!

The ghosts of Newcastle.

A pioneering architect.

A mysterious scandal.

A bloody poltergeist.

The great medieval famine.

The actress who was arrested for the way she rode a horse.

Extrajudicial witch hunts.

The Maya woman who was given a whole lot of teeth.

Medieval ways of keeping warm.

The 19th century Paris "season."

A tribute to "Gulliver's Travels."

Remembering an "ordinary" death from over 200 years ago.

UFOs over Melbourne.

UFOs over Wiltshire.

The final voyage of the "New Era."

In which we debate the smell of crape.

The social history of love.

Mars isn't dead, it's just taking a nice nap.

A historic Gilded Age party.

Flesh falls and blood rains.

The Pompeii of Greece.

The last woman to be hanged in Britain.

Old London fogs and smogs.

Real-life trick-or-treat horrors.

The mystery of the Kyshtym Dwarf.

The Mad Trapper of Red River.

When climbers and explorers suddenly feel they're not alone.

Some mysterious apparitions.

An affair's murderous end.

The "trick or treat" murder.

That's it for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll meet a bookish ghost.  In the meantime, here's some Albinoni:

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

This is for all of us who tend to think most small children are a bit demonic.  The “New York Herald,” December 2, 1888:

To the north and west of this city, about fifteen miles away, dividing this county from Cumberland and Franklin counties, is a ridge of mountains. In some of the mountain valleys the people are in a state of deep ignorance, seeing little of the outer world and scarcely touched by the civilization that is all around them. In one of these little corners of the mountain about two weeks ago was born a monstrosity that has filled the mountaineers with terror and dread. Among many of them superstition is religion, and they believe that the devil has appeared among them incarnate in the monster born in their midst.

During the past week rumors have reached this city of a fabulous creature, born in the mountain, and of the intense excitement prevailing in the neighborhood of its birthplace. The excitement spread to the lowlands, and those who had the courage to overcome their superstitious fears and visit the creature describe it as being somewhat larger than the average new born babe, and although the offspring of a white father and mother, dark in color and covered with short, black hair. From either side of its head grew short horns. A long tail hung to its feet, which strongly resembled the cloven hoof. In fact, to use the words of one who saw it, "It was the very picture of the devil."

There are many stories as to the incidents attending the birth of the monster, but the following story is the one which seems to have so fixed itself in the minds of the mountaineers that they cannot be convinced that the devil has not lived and been among them in the flesh. From what they say it appears that the father of the creature had some sort of a superstitious religious belief and tried to persuade his wife, who did not agree with him, to accept his opinions. Finally she declared that she would not do as he wished, and in blasphemous language declared that she would rather see the devil than to have a cross always before her eyes. Shortly after this declaration she gave birth to a horrible monster, as described above.

In terror the father summoned several neighbors, and one of them, more brave than the rest, offered to open a vein in the arm of the creature and bleed it to death. As he took his knife from his pocket the creature raised itself, got down from the bed, walked across the room, and returning addressed its would-be executioner in most terrible language, and threatened him with dire misfortune if he attempted to do it harm, and then declared it would live for seven days, and having revealed its object in coming into the world, would then die. It lived for seven days, and on last Monday, the eighth day, died, but without having spoken again. As strange as it may seem, this story has many believers, and there are few who do not shun the little cabin in the mountain in which lives the poor mother of the miserable creature whose birth and death have filled her neighbors with such uneasiness.

Arne Gandy's Final Phone Call

"Hackensack Record," May 24, 1934, via Newspapers.com

20-year-old Arne Gandy of Teaneck, New Jersey, was a restless, adventurous young man who, like so many restless, adventurous sorts throughout history, felt the call of the high seas.  After several voyages to South America, in December 1933 he signed on to serve as “messboy” on the “President Harrison.”  Gandy carried with him a letter of introduction to Stanley Dollar, president of the ship’s line.  After the “President Harrison” arrived in San Francisco, he planned to ask Dollar for a rating of cadet.  Gandy planned to make sailing his life’s work.

Unfortunately, when Gandy landed in San Francisco, he was unable to get a meeting with Dollar, and he agreed to continue his job on the “President Harrison.”  However, on January 5, 1934, he mysteriously left the ship, in such a hurry that he left all his belongings behind.  The “President Harrison,” on the assumption that he had deserted, sailed off without him.  We know nothing of Gandy’s subsequent actions.

At 2:45 a.m. on January 10, Arne’s mother back in Teaneck was awakened by the ringing of the telephone.  When she answered, she was confused, and a bit frightened, to hear it was an utterly bizarre call.  A man’s unfamiliar voice went into a rambling monologue.  “The kid is OK,” he told her.  “What I said about him in my letter is all true.  He is a fine kid.”  When Mrs. Gandy asked who was speaking, her question was ignored.  The man went on, “I told the truth and he’s coming home now.”  Mrs. Gandy said he must have the wrong number, as she knew nothing about any letter.  When she asked what number he was calling, he repeated the Gandy’s private, unlisted number--known only to family and their closest friends.

Mrs. Gandy heard Arne’s voice in the background, and asked to talk to him.  The man chuckled and said, “That’s all right; he’s coming home now.”  She then heard a roaring sound, and the man sighed, “I am helpless.  Here I lie propped up on pillows, helpless.  I can’t move.”  His voice began fading out.  Then, she heard another voice saying, “When shall we operate, doctor?”  A third voice replied, “Right away.”  Then the line went dead.  Mrs. Gandy quickly awakened her husband Curtis.  Mr. Gandy, oddly enough, had been in the middle of a nightmare where either Arne or the boy’s twin, Curtis III--he couldn’t tell which--was in serious trouble.

The Gandys contacted the telephone operator, who told them that it had been a station to station call from San Francisco.  They were unable to find out who had placed the call.

At about the same time as this ominous communication, Arne’s twin brother Curtis, who was a cadet aboard the freighter “Scanstates,” which was then in the mid-Atlantic en route to Denmark, had an alarming dream where he heard Arne, clearly in great distress, calling, “Daddy! Daddy!”

Early on the morning of January 11, the naked body of a young man was found floating in San Francisco Bay.  At first, the corpse was known only as “John Doe No. 4,” but after the local police sent on the body’s fingerprints to the National Bureau of Identification in Washington D.C., a check of the fingerprint records of steamship lines identified the dead man as Arne Gandy.  This was corroborated by checking Arne’s dental records.  It was believed that Arne had been in the water since January 9--the day before Mrs. Gandy received the mysterious phone call where she heard her son’s voice.

The autopsy revealed that Arne had died by drowning.  The coroner added, “whether by accident or force could not be determined.”  There were no signs of external injury.  Arne’s parents insisted that their son was a cheerful, healthy young man who had no reason to commit suicide, but police saw no indications of foul play, either.

It is depressing to relate that this superlative bit of weirdness ended on a frustratingly inconclusive note.  Arne’s wealthy father hired private detectives to investigate his son’s mysterious death, but they were unable to make any more progress than the police had.  We will never know why Arne deserted his ship, or whether his death was due to suicide, accident, or murder.

And needless to say, we will never know who made that eerie phone call in the early hours of January 10…where the voice of a dead man could be heard.