Ladies, if a man accidentally stepped on your foot and didn’t apologize, would you:
(C) Kill him.
According to this 1898 Illustrated Police News depiction of an actual event, it appears “C” was the best option for this woman.
On August 4, 1892, Andrew and Abby Borden were viciously killed with an axe in their Fall River, Massachusetts home (or rather by a hatchet, as is now believed by historians).
Though Lizzie Borden was tried and acquitted of the murders, the real murderer (in which much evidence points to Lizzie), remains a mystery to this day. The jury of 12 men unanimously acquitted Lizzie of the murders as they felt a woman, then seen as the weaker sex, could never commit such a hideous crime.
As a side note, the famous rhyme of Lizzie giving her mother 40 whacks and her father 41 is incorrect. Her mother, or rather stepmother, Abby, was struck in the back of the head 19 times. Her father, Andrew, was struck in the face either 10 or 11 times. It was tough for investigators to pinpoint exactly how many times he had been struck since much of his face had been destroyed.
The images below consist of:
1. Lizzie, Andrew and Abby Borden
2. The Lizzie Borden house, appearing today much as it did in 1892
3. Crime scene photos of Andrew Borden as he was found by the police
4. Crime scene photos of Abby Borden as she was found by the police (notice the reflection of the camera in the mirror used by police to document the crime scene)
5. Reward offered by Lizzie and her sister, Emma, for information leading to the killer’s arrest
6. Skulls reproduced from the originals to show the damage Andrew and Abby suffered, along with the hatchet head found at the crime scene
7. Autopsy photo of Andrew Borden’s face
8. Autopsy photo of the back of Abby Borden’s head
9. Random newspapers of the time regarding the murders and Lizzie’s trial
Upon being called to help restore order following the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, the United States Army publicly shamed looters.
The reproduction mechanical bank below was originally manufactured in 1873, with variations of it manufactured through 1918. It is named “Tammany Bank”. Tammany refers to New York City’s Tammany Hall, a political organization. The man depicted on the bank represents the organization’s corrupt leader, William “Boss” Tweed, leader of the Democratic Party political machine that played a major role in the politics of 19th century New York City and state.
Tweed and his ring of corrupt politicians headed most of New York’s high government offices, enabling them to work together to defraud taxpayers of millions of dollars.
Contractors working for the city were instructed by Tweed to multiply the amount of each bill by five, ten or one hundred, after which, with the Mayor’s ‘OK’ and the Controller’s endorsement, was paid through a go-between, who cashed the check, settled the original bill and divided the remainder between Tweed and his corrupt ring. There were multiple ways in which Tweed and his ring of politicians embezzled millions of dollars. With the millions they were bringing in, they made large real estate purchases and set up the Tenth National Bank to better control their fortunes.
In the words of American author Albert Bigelow Paine, describing Tweed and his ring, “Their methods were curiously simple and primitive. There were no skillful manipulations of figures, making detection difficult.”
Tweed’s downfall began in 1871. When the press started coming down on Tweed, and in-depth investigations into the corruption had begun, Tweed began to transfer ownership of his real-estate empire and other investments to members of his family in order to get them out of his name.
Tweed was arrested and released on $1 million bail. He was then re-elected to office in November 1871 due solely to popularity. More investigations into his ring resulted in Tweed being re-arrested and released again, this time on $8 million bail.
His first trial in January 1878 resulted in a hung jury. His retrial in November of that year resulted in him being convicted of 204 of 220 counts of corruption-related charges, a hefty fine and a jail sentence of 12 years, which was shortened to one year. Upon his release from prison, New York state filed a civil suit against Tweed to recover $6 million in embezzled funds. Tweed was again arrested, and unable to put up the $3 million bail was once more locked up, but allowed out for visits home. On one of these visits he escaped and fled to Spain, where he worked as a common seaman on a Spanish ship. The U.S. government discovered his whereabouts from tips by those in Spain who recognized him from political cartoons in newspapers during coverage of the scandal. He was returned to authorities in New York City on November 23, 1876, and was sent to jail.
Now desperate and broken, Tweed agreed to a deal with New York’s governor to come clean on everything in exchange for his release. Upon doing so, however, the governor went back on his agreement and refused to release Tweed. Tweed died in the Ludlow Street Jail on April 12, 1878 from severe pneumonia. The mayor would not allow the flag at City Hall to be flown at half-staff.
The “Tammany Bank” depicted in the video below operates by placing a coin in the hand of the corrupt politician, meant to represent William “Boss” Tweed. The weight of the coin pulls the hand down which drops the coin into a slot (coat pocket). The coin, upon falling into the pocket, hits a lever which causes the politician’s head to nod, as if saying thank you for the deposit.
One of the most sensational cases of the 19th century was a sex scandal involving a minister named Henry Ward Beecher. Beecher, the brother of Harriet Beecher-Stowe (author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin), was the most well-known preacher throughout the United States. Though his church was located in Brooklyn NY, he often traveled throughout the country on lecture circuits.
Beecher was an abolitionist, using church funds to secretly purchase and send firearms to the Union army during the Civil War in boxes marked “Books” and “Bibles”. He publicly spoke on women’s rights and equality, and denounced free love, often giving sermons on the sins of infidelity.
Beecher was married in 1837. However, he enjoyed the company of other women, and as early as 1858, newspapers began running stories from tips they received, accusing him of infidelity, the very subject he preached against.
The wife of Beecher’s church publication editor, on her deathbed at an early age, confessed to her own affair with the minister. Several members of the congregation also admitted that Beecher had been with other women. It is believed that during his sermons, he preached to at least seven or eight mistresses each time.
Lawsuits were eventually filed. For two years, trials and hearings involving Beecher’s infidelity took up front pages of newspapers across the country. He was eventually exonerated.
Immediately following his exoneration, another highly publicized case began in January 1875, with Beecher being sued on civil charges of adultery by his friend, Theodore Tilton. The trial was known as the “Tilton-Beecher Scandal”, and came about when Tilton’s wife had confessed to him she had had an affair with Beecher.
Jurors deliberated for six days but were unable to reach a verdict. Beecher was again exonerated.
An acquaintance of Beecher, Henry Stanton, whose wife Elizabeth was a suffragette, became outraged over the repeated exonerations, calling the scandal a “holocaust of womanhood”.
Following the trials, Beecher continued his lecture circuits, speaking on a number of subjects, though it appears infidelity was no longer one of them. In 1884, Beecher angered many of his Republican allies when he endorsed Democratic candidate Grover Cleveland for the Presidency, arguing that Cleveland should be forgiven for having fathered an illegitimate child.
Beecher suffered a stroke on March 6, 1887. He died in his sleep on March 8 at the age of 73. Still a widely popular figure, he was mourned in newspapers and sermons across the country.
Shortly after Beecher’s death, American writer Oliver Herford wrote the following poem:
“Said a great congregational preacher
To a hen, ” You’re a beautiful creature.”
And the hen, just for that, Laid an egg in his hat,
And thus did the Hen reward Beecher.”
The newspaper images below are from the beginning of the 1875 Tilton-Beecher Scandal trial.
Gang members once used to attempt to fight fires but would often end up fighting each other at the scene of the fire instead.
In was common for New York gang members of the 1840s and 1850s to be affiliated with different fire departments. It was gang pride to be the first to arrive at the scene of a fire and put it out. One of these gangs were the Bowery Boys, who, despite their classy gang attire, which included top hats, were considered the toughest fighters of all the gangs in the dangerous Five Points district in lower Manhattan.
The Bowery Boys would always send their largest man out to a fire as soon as the alarm sounded while the rest got their equipment ready. He would grab an empty barrel, run to the fire plug (an early hydrant) nearest to the building on fire and put the barrel over the plug so that no other members from opposing gangs could attach their hoses to it. He would then stand guard, fighting off other gang members who tried removing the barrel until the other Bowery Boys members arrived with their fire equipment.
Multiple gangs would arrive at the scene of fires but would often end up fighting each other instead, neglecting the fire altogether. Actual firefighters, upon arrival, would sometimes have difficulty putting out fires due to the gang fights occurring around them.
Women’s self-defense tips, 1906
This story is in regard to the first documented case of child abuse in America.
Mary Ellen was born in New York City in 1864 to Thomas and Fanny Wilson. Thomas was killed in battle during the Civil War, and Fanny was no longer able to take care of Mary Ellen at home, having to now work long hours to make ends meet. She therefore boarded her daughter and made regular visits to see her. As Fanny’s financial situation worsened, she began missing visitations and could no longer make childcare payments. Mary Ellen was eventually turned over to the New York City Department of Charities. She was too young to remember her mother later on when she testified in court regarding her abuse by her adoptive mother. Therefore, she would believe her biological mother to be deceased.
The Department of Charities placed Mary Ellen under the care of Thomas and Mary McCormick. The three of them lived in an apartment. Though proven to be untrue, Thomas McCormick claimed he was Mary Ellen’s biological father, therefore coming clean to his wife about an earlier affair he had. Thomas McCormick passed away shortly after, when Mary Ellen was 2 years old. Mary McCormack was remarried to a man named Frances Connolly, and that’s when the abuse began. Mary Connelly hated Mary Ellen due to Thomas’s (her previous late husband’s) affair, in which he claimed resulted in the birth of Mary Ellen. I’ll refer to Mary Connolly as Mrs. Connolly from here on. It just flows better.
Mrs. Connolly beat Mary Ellen daily, up to 15 minutes per beating, sometimes multiple times a day. Neighbors would hear Mary Ellen being dragged around the apartment, crying and screaming. Everyone in the apartment building knew of the abuse but did nothing. Mrs. Connolly didn’t just beat Mary Ellen with her fists but also whipped her with a 2-foot braided horse whip, starved her, burned her, cut her, and forced her to sleep on the floor. This daily abuse went on for more than seven years, resulting in Mary Ellen’s body being covered with scars.
During this time, Mary Ellen was never allowed to go outside or even look out a window. When Mrs. Connolly would leave the apartment, she would lock Mary Ellen in a small closet until she returned. Frances Connolly was very aware of his wife’s abuse but did nothing. In fact, he seems to be insignificant in this story, as just someone who turned the other cheek.
The family eventually moved into another apartment and the abuse continued there. A concerned neighbor, hearing daily crying and screaming, asked a visiting Methodist mission worker, Etta Wheeler, to check on the little girl. Wheeler was able to gain very brief access into the apartment, just enough to peek in, and was horrified by what she saw. She saw Mary Ellen from behind, standing barefoot on a stool in the kitchen washing dishes. She was wearing a tattered dress. Wheeler saw the now 10-year-old child covered in scars, burns and cuts from head to toe. Wheeler was determined to get Mary Ellen to safety. The police were contacted but did nothing. There were no laws at the time regarding child protection and so the police allowed Mary Ellen to remain with her abusive mother. The abuse went on daily for another three months.
Etta Wheeler then reached out to Henry Bergh, founder and president of ASPCA. Bergh took an interest in the child’s safety, and being the influential person he was, used his connections to get Mary Ellen out of the abusive household. Once Bergh became involved, Mary Ellen was rescued in 48 hours, on April 8, 1874.
At the time of her rescue, Mary Ellen had a fresh cut that ran from her forehead to her chin, as seen in the photo below which was taken that same day. The cut to her face was made the previous day by the pair of scissors seen in the photo at her feet. Mrs. Connolly had cut Mary Ellen’s face with them because she was supposedly holding a piece of cloth incorrectly. Aside from the cut to her face, you can clearly make out the deep gashes in her legs, the scars on her arms, and see that she is malnourished, compared to the last photo of her below, taken a year later, after Etta Wheeler became Mary Ellen’s guardian.
Mrs. Connolly was arrested, and Mary Ellen was brought into the courtroom the following day to tell the judge about the past 7+ years of her life. On that day, April 9, 1874, the 10-year-old testified, “My father and mother are both dead. I don‘t know how old I am. I have no recollection of a time when I did not live with the Connollys… Mamma (Mrs. Connolly) has been in the habit of whipping and beating me almost every day. She used to whip me with a twisted whip—a rawhide. The whip always left a black and blue mark on my body. I have now the black and blue marks on my head, which were made by Mamma, and also a cut on the left side of my forehead which was made by a pair of scissors. She struck me with the scissors and cut me; I have no recollection of ever having been kissed by anyone—have never been kissed by Mamma. I have never been taken on my Mamma’s lap and caressed or petted. I never dared to speak to anybody because if I did I would get whipped… I do not know for what I was whipped—Mamma never said anything to me when she whipped me. I do not want to go back to live with Mamma because she beats me so. Whenever Mamma goes out, she locks me in the closet. I have no recollection of ever being on the street in my life.”
On April 21, 1874, Mrs. Connolly was found guilty of felonious assault and sentenced to one year of hard labor in prison.
At the age of 10, Mary Ellen had to literally learn almost everything. She did not know how to walk outside, only indoors on even surfaces. Due to uneven surfaces outdoors, she had to learn how to balance. She also had to learn how to go up and down stairs. She did not know what grass and trees were, having never been allowed to look out a window. She learned how to be a child by watching other children and was taught manners and life skills by her new guardians.
At age 24, she married and had two children. Mary Ellen was a very loving mother despite her own abusive upbringing, and was said to have become a happy woman. She passed away in 1956 at the age of 92.
One year following Mary Ellen’s rescue, in 1875, ASPCA founder Henry Bergh founded the New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NYSPCC), drawing national attention to the welfare and protection of children just as he had with animals. (Click the “Animals” tab to read more about Henry Bergh)
On May 5, 1865, the first train robbery in the United States took place in North Bend, Ohio. The Ohio & Mississippi had departed Cincinnati at 8pm and was headed for St. Louis, when it was derailed by a missing section of track. The track had been removed by about twenty men, and when the train had come to a stop the men boarded it with guns drawn. More than 100 passengers in four passenger cars were robbed at gunpoint of cash and jewelry. One passenger reported one of the bandits shouting, “Rob every damned man, but don’t hurt the ladies!” Nobody was injured during the robbery.
Along with the four passenger cars was an Adams Express car, carrying a safe. Bandits hauled the safe outside and blew it open with explosives. Inside were 30 bonds, each worth $1,000. Following collecting all the loot they could, the bandits were said to have swam across the section of the Ohio River pictured below, escaping into Kentucky. A Kentucky farmer reported some of his horses missing the following morning.
Adams Express issued a bounty for the capture of the bandits. Militia from different towns were dispatched to track them down, but they were never apprehended.
Despite the first train robbery being a newsworthy event, it was not reported on much throughout the country. This was due to it occurring around both the time the Civil War ended and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, which took priority over other news stories at the time.
Con artists come in all types. This 19th century con man certainly had an unusual way of going about his business.
On a spring morning in 1859, a man walked into the Chemeketa Hotel in Salem, Oregon. Staff at the hotel noticed he looked depressed and about to burst into tears. The man checked into the hotel under the name A.V. Lamartine and went to his room carrying his luggage, which consisted of only a small medicine bag.
After several hours, the bell from Lamartine’s room began ringing. A hotel employee knocked on his door but there was no answer. When the employee was finally able to gain access into the room, he found Lamartine nearly unconscious on the bed with an empty bottle of laudanum (a powerful opiate) by his side. Lamartine told the employee to call a clergyman before he passed out. A doctor was called instead, and when he arrived to examine Lamartine, he found a suicide note stating that due to his financial circumstances and the shame he had brought to his family as a result, he was going to end his life. The doctor induced vomiting and Lamartine spent days being nursed back to health in his hotel room.
Word soon spread through town of Lamartine’s attempted suicide due to his dire financial situation. Townspeople gathered a collection to help him back on his feet. By the time he recovered, Lamartine had $40. When he was well enough to leave the hotel, he thanked the townspeople for their generosity and went on his way with the free railroad pass he was also provided.
Lamartine made his way to Ohio, where he would pull the same scam of being suicidal at multiple hotels along the way, tricking the townspeople into giving him money and free railroad passes. But how did he pull this off? Was he just a good actor, pretending to have overdosed? As it turns out, he actually was killing himself with every scam.
Lamartine knew exactly how much laudanum to take in order to knock himself out without being killed. He knew which hotels would be most likely to call a doctor for him, and also knew just when to get out of town.
Not much is known of Lamartine once he reached Ohio except that he made another $40 and $25 pulling his scam at two Ohio hotels. It is unknown if he changed his name to continue pulling scams, having already used the name A.V Lamartine to check into a number of hotels, or if he overdosed one too many times and couldn’t be saved. Either way, Lamartine seems to have faded into obscurity, having never been caught in his unorthodox scam.
On July 9, 1881, the Cincinnati Enquirer reported on three people working together in a clever scam. A man rented a boarding house for two women, while the women were out on a shopping spree. They selected the most lavish and expensive clothing, then instructed the merchant to send the clothing to the boarding house they were staying at so they can try them on prior to paying for them.
When the merchant brought the clothing to the boarding house, one of the women met him in the parlor and told him she was going to take the clothing to show her sister and husband (it is unknown if any of the three were actually related) and would return promptly to pay for the items. The three would then make their escape out the back of the house, leaving the merchant patiently waiting for payment until he finally realized what had happened.
The identities of the three were unknown, as false names were likely used for renting boarding houses. It is unknown how many times the trio made off with stolen goods, or if they were ever caught.
It is important to mention that Boston did not have a police department at this time.
