Strange Company

That's it for this week! See you on Monday, when we'll look at a story that might be UFO-related. Or might not. It's one of those strange tales that's hard to categorize. In the meantime, here's, uh, this.

Wednesday, September 14, 2022

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

People who work in cemeteries often wind up with some odd tales to tell, as this item from the “Iowa County Democrat,” April 11, 1895, amply demonstrates:

Sexton Gorham, of Marietta City cemetery, is not a believer in ghosts, but during the many years he has been at work among the dead he has seen two mysterious persons suddenly disappear, that astonished him, says the Atlanta Constitution.
Eleven years ago, he says, he was at work one Saturday and he noticed a man, dressed in black, standing about where the tool box is now. He says he worked on a short distance from him, and for one hour the mysterious man stood there like a statue. When Mr. Gorham concluded to quit work he placed his tools in his wheelbarrow and started towards the man to put up his tools. When he got within 15 or 20 yards of the man he looked down to guide his wheelbarrow, and when he looked up again the “man in black” had disappeared.
He said it was an open space where he stood and there was no place for any one to hide. He said he looked all around, but he couldn't find him anywhere. Recently Sexton Gorham has had another experience. He said that he was coming from the new cemetery to the old, through a drizzling rain, and at a newly made grave he saw a woman dressed in black. He watched her closely, and walked toward her to see who it was out on such an inclement day, and when he got very near her he passed around a monument, and when he looked for the “woman in black" again she, too, had suddenly vanished. He went to where she stood and he could see no tracks and he made a diligent search for her, but nowhere was she visible. Sexton Gorham says it put some “curious feelings" on him, and he did not propose to explain the matter.

Monday, September 12, 2022

William Allen White and the Little People

William Allen White (1868-1944) was a prominent Kansas newspaper editor, author, and politician who was a leading member of the “Progressive movement” of the early half of the 20th century. Sometimes called the “Sage of Emporia,” White saw himself as a spokesperson for small-town middle America.

This is all very nice, but the estimable Mr. White would not be ushered into the hallowed halls of Strange Company HQ if it wasn’t for one memorable brush with The Weird he claimed to have experienced in 1891. The following account comes from his posthumously-published autobiography.

One other thing I remember--a strange thing and quite mad. The August harvest moon, under which a few nights before I had come home feeling most poetical from my day’s fishing with my visiting editors, was still shining high in the sky when I walked home another night. Not unconscious of the night splendor, I turned in and slept deeply. Then I remember waking up, when the moon's beams were slanting and the dawn must have been but two or three hours away. Now this is sure: I did wake up. Something--it seemed to me the sound of distant music--came to my ear. The head of my bed was near a south window and I looked out. And I will swear across the years during which I have held the picture, that there under a tree--a spreading elm tree--I saw the Little People, the fairies. I was not dreaming; at least I did not think so then and I cannot think so now. They were making a curious buzzing noise, white little people, or gray, three or four inches high. And I got up out of bed and went to another window and still saw them. Then I lay on my belly on my bed and kicked my heels and put my chin in my hands, to be sure I was not sleeping, and still I saw them. For a long time, maybe five minutes, they were buzzing about, busy at something, I could not make out what. Then I turned away a moment, maybe to roll over on my side or to get upon my knees, and they began to fade away; an instant later they were gone. And there I was like a fool, gawking at the bluegrass under the elm. I got up and sat in a chair. I was deeply upset, bemused, troubled. I thought: “Maybe I’m going crazy!” I knew well enough of course even then that what I saw I did not see, but when you are cold sober and have the conviction spread over you that you are made, you are bothered--and I have been bothered ever since. It is not impossible. Nothing is impossible. Many years later I heard of transparent fish--with other eyes, other creatures see other things; with other ears they hear much that escapes our human ears. Perhaps in our very presence are other beings like the transparent fish, which we may not feel with our bodies attuned to rather insentient nerves. Heaven knows! For an hour I thought I was crazy. And when I recall that hour and am so sure that I was awake, I think maybe I am still crazy.

Friday, September 9, 2022

Weekend Link Dump

"The Witches' Cove," Follower of Jan Mandijn

This week's Link Dump is off to the races!

A visit to Morden College.

OK, let's talk deviant nuns.

Examining a weird double death.

That time Geoffrey Chaucer's father was kidnapped. It's quite the medieval soap opera.

The context behind some famous Napoleon quotes.

The world's oldest bottle of wine. And, no, you would not want to drink it.

The famed Kentucky Meat Shower of 1876.

Cremation in Victorian Britain.

Yes, there are such things as eyelash superstitions.

A man involved in the Berners Street Hoax.

How we began comforting people with the words, "there, there."

The magical calendar which gives the secret to everything.

Scientists are squabbling over a 7 million year old fossil.

So, who's up for having a whisky featuring beaver anal glands?

A Dutch Halloween party, 1899.

Dangerous dancing dandies!

The Bradford Sweets Poisoning.

In search of Mary Seacole, innovative nurse.

The significance of a rock from ancient Greece.

Alaskan UFOs.

Julia, life-saving dog.

A hypnotic murderer.

MONGOLIAN DEATH WORMS. I am so happy to have the opportunity to add those words to my blog.

Thomas Bewick talks cats.

"Honey, what's for dinner?" "36,000 year old bison meat." There are times when I think scientists have way too much spare time on their hands.

A woman who married not wisely, but too damn often.

A leaden coffin and a gloomy vault.

The village that just keeps humming.

One very lonely house.

Meet Jonathan, the world's oldest living animal.

The adventures of a 19th century aeronaut.

Every parent wants their kids to do well at school, but this may be going a bit too far.

The last fight between mounted lancers.

Some archival papers of Prime Ministers.

That time when America banned sliced bread.

A marriage drama in 19th century high places.

Emile Zola, photographer.

Astronomers are seeing some freaky things, and they're not happy about it.

That's all for this week! See you on Monday, when we'll look at an early 20th century journalist's very strange encounter. In the meantime, I felt I couldn't ignore the biggest news story of the week. I'm no royalist, but I liked Elizabeth. Fate handed her a very strange job, and she performed it as well and conscientiously as she could. (I always suspected she would have been far happier as country village housewife Lizzie Windsor.) I'm sorry to see one of the few remaining links to a bygone world go.

Wednesday, September 7, 2022

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

As I have mentioned before, some mighty strange things can happen at wakes. This example appeared in the “Galesburg Enterprise,” February 12, 1892:

A neat-appearing two-story frame of modern architecture on the Springfield (Ohio) pike is enjoying a reputation as a place for ghosts to hold their carnivals. It is in the interior of this house that the ghostly scenes are enacted. The last person who occupied the house with his family was a gentleman by the name of Prentiss, but himself and family remained no longer than they could help. A little child of Mr. Prentiss died, and several of the intimate friends of the family were sitting up with the remains.
It was about 12 o'clock at night, and the occupants of the room were dozing from their vigil, when, with a muffled exclamation, one of the ladies arose from the chair, and, with a trembling hand, pointed toward one of the walls of the room. Seemingly a hand of fire had suddenly appeared upon the wall. The hand first appeared near the ceiling, but did not remain motionless. With the index finger pressed against the papered wall, the hand moved downward until the floor was reached. It then returned to the ceiling and back again, making six perpendicular visits downward and upward, after which it disappeared and was seen no more that night. Lately though the apparition has continued nightly.
How long the mysterious proceedings will continue is, of course, unknown, but at the present time it appears as though the hand of fire is going to leave its mark upon every inch of paper upon the wall.

Monday, September 5, 2022

Murder and Mystery: The Tragic Tobin Family

All families experience tragedies, to one extent or another. However, it is thankfully rare that any clan goes through a string of bizarre misfortunes like those suffered by the otherwise commonplace Tobin family.

In 1885, young Mary Tobin moved from her home in Pennsylvania to Staten Island. In 1887, she found work as an assistant to a doctor named Samuel A. Robinson. Tobin was described as an intelligent and extremely attractive girl. Early in 1889, she excitedly told everyone she knew that she was engaged to be married. Curiously, however, the identity of her fiance was a mystery to her friends. The only men they had ever seen her with were Dr. Robinson and his son. By all appearances, Mary was a happy and rather fortunate person, without an enemy in the world.

Samuel Robinson

On April 13, 1889, she left Robinson’s employ, saying that she was returning to Pennsylvania to visit her family, and would soon return for her wedding. Two days later, she visited the doctor's office for a second farewell. She told Robinson that before going back home, she would visit a friend in Long Island, Mrs. Frank McKinney.

That was the last anyone ever heard from her. A few days later, Mrs. McKinney came to Robinson's office, reporting that Mary's trunk had arrived at her home, but there was no sign of Miss Tobin herself. A week or so later, Mary's brothers, Daniel and David, also sought out the doctor, asking if he had any idea what had become of their sister.

On May 12, the question of Mary Tobin's whereabouts was finally answered when her body was found off the rocks in Clifton, Staten Island. The Staten Island coroner stated that she had drowned. However, another doctor, J. Walter Wood, disputed this, asserting that no water had been found in her stomach, causing him to believe she had been dead before she entered the water. (Curiously, Wood was not allowed to testify at Tobin's inquest.) The jury at her inquest gave the unsatisfactory ruling that Tobin had died of asphyxia, from unknown causes. The mystery of what killed Mary was never definitively solved. (The entire official investigation into Tobin's death was remarkably slipshod and inept--in the minds of some onlookers, deliberately so.)

A pathologist thought her body had been in the water for eight to ten days. If so, that would mean her whereabouts were unknown for several days after she was last seen. The pathologist also addressed some inevitable rumors. He stated that there were no signs that the young woman had undergone an abortion--in fact, he believed she had been a virgin. (Dr. Robinson responded to this latter statement by alleging that Mary had been sexually active, earning himself much public criticism for this "breach of good taste.")

It was only after Mary's death that the identity of her fiance finally became known: he was another doctor, William J. Bryan. As it happened, Dr. Bryan was the last person known to have seen her alive. After she left Robinson's office on April 15, she went directly to Bryan's place of work, after which he walked her to the train station. He said that he had left her at the station before her train arrived. (However, the railroad's ticket agent testified that she had not seen Mary Tobin--whom she knew quite well--on the night of the 15th.)

William Bryan

Although Bryan conceded that he and Mary had been close, he initially refused to either confirm or deny that they had been engaged. (A reporter from the "New York World" recorded that when he interviewed Bryan, the doctor presented a strange demeanor for someone whose girlfriend had just turned up dead. He appeared to be "quite jovial and during the conversation frequently gave vent to laughter.") Bryan also dished a bit of dirt about Dr. Robinson. He claimed that Robinson had disliked Mary, and that he had owed the dead woman a sizable amount of money. (For some years after Mary's death, Bryan and Robinson would keep themselves busy by accusing each other of having murdered the young woman, and then using "undue influence" to stifle the investigation.)

It was noted that there was a problem with Bryan's account of the night Mary disappeared. He claimed that he left her at the station at 8:54 p.m. in order to make a medical call. He returned to his office, whereupon an assistant, Timothy McInerney, drove him to the home of one of his patients, E.J. Field, where he arrived about 10:40 p.m. This meant that according to Bryan, it took one hour and forty minutes to make a trip that should have only taken about half an hour. (McInerney countered this finding by stating that he and Bryan had made three other house calls before arriving at Field's home, but this claim does not appear to have been verified.)

In May 1891, Bryan's former housekeeper, Mrs. W.S. Glassford, revived the Tobin mystery by going to the press with some scandalous accusations. She claimed that Bryan had had a most improper relationship with the dead woman. She also stated that when Bryan walked Mary to the train station, Miss Tobin was crying uncontrollably, and that the girl was "frantic" over Bryan's relationship with another woman. The incensed Bryan vowed he would make Mrs. Glassford "smart for the lies she has uttered." "I shall follow her now to the bitter end and force her to prove what she says or suffer." Bryan went to the DA asking that the examination into Tobin's death be reopened, but he was evidently ignored.

Around this same time, the riddle of Mary's death became even more sinister when the Franklin, Pennsylvania home of her father, N.P. Tobin, caught fire and burned to the ground. Mr. Tobin’s body was found in the ruins. However, he had not died from the flames, but had been strangled before the fire was set.

Mr. Tobin had indicated to friends that he obtained some sort of information that would lead to the identity of his daughter’s murderer. It was speculated that this dangerous knowledge was the motive for his own killing, but this second Tobin death was fated to remain as utterly mysterious as the first.

This was not the last tragedy to hit the Tobin family. Four months after N.P. Tobin’s death, the tin shop where Mary’s brother, D.S. Tobin, was a partner also burned down as a result of arson. This crime was also never solved. The younger Tobin declared that the same enemy was behind all these catastrophes and the entire Tobin family would be “wiped out of existence” if the fiend was not caught.

The fiend never was.