The Body Snatching Judge...!

Now this is another tale that is in keeping with the closeness of Halloween. I know you love it!

The bad thing is that these stories can be researched as they are true! That should rattle your cage just a bit, ya know?

Grandison Harris

Grandison Harris was a slave who belonged to the Medical College of Georgia. Bought in 1852, he was officially the school’s porter and janitor. Unofficially, he was their body snatcher. Like others who shared his grisly profession, he was also known as a “resurrection man,” and his slave status afforded him something of an odd benefit when it came to this second job. As a slave, he couldn’t be prosecuted by the law. Harris spent more than 50 years unearthing freshly buried bodies and supplying the students of the medical college with corpses to dissect and learn from. His forward-thinking employers gave him all the tools that he needed to be a successful body snatcher—they even taught him how to read and write, so he could keep an eye on newspaper obituaries himself.

Harris had uncanny flower arrangement skills, which came in handy when he needed to reassemble funeral flowers after removing a body. But many times, that wasn’t even an issue. One of his favorite stomping grounds was Cedar Grove Cemetery, where the most impoverished people were buried in coffins that were easily shattered by an axe. After the Civil War, Harris found himself a free—and learned—man. He took a position as a judge in a small Georgia town, but the students he had formerly supplied with dead bodies weren’t about to let him forget where he came from, no matter how powerful he was by day.

Harris continued his grave-robbing activities and brokered deals to supply the college with slightly more legitimate bodies, purchased from prisons and hospitals. He also spent his later years teaching the finer points of grave robbing to his son, who ultimately replaced him at the college. In 1908, Harris gave a lecture at the college, teaching others just how he managed to be such a successful resurrection man. He died in 1911 and was buried in the same Cedar Grove Cemetery where he’d spent so many lamplit nights. Perhaps as a precautionary measure, there’s no grave marker, only a monument. No one knows exactly where his body was actually buried.

Seems to me that the "judge" did the smart thing in not having a headstone on his grave. I would imagine that a little graveyard justice might have befallen him otherwise!

Coffee in the kitchen again this morning. I don't trust the weather guys!

An Old Political Murder For Monday Mystery...!

This whole story is a little bizarre, to say the least. In fact, one would almost say it is hard to believe!

There weren't many enemies with such conflicting views as the two countries in the story, yet the fact remains that this was one guest that you would not expect to find under the same roof as the Pope. Guess times were a lot different, for sure!

The Muslim Prince Who Lived In The Vatican

By Larry Jimenez on Sunday, October 12, 2014

In the 15th century, Prince Djem (the brother of Ottoman Sultan Bajazet) became a guest of Pope Innocent VIII in the Vatican. Djem was actually a pawn in the political game between Sultan Bajazet and the Pope. But nonetheless, this Muslim prince lived in luxury at the very seat of Christendom. The incongruous situation of the Pope playing host to an infidel further eroded respect for the papacy.

After the death of Ottoman Sultan Mehmet II, conqueror of Constantinople, on May 3, 1481, a succession struggle immediately flared up between his two sons Bajazet and Djem. Bajazet was proclaimed sultan, and his half-brother responded by raising an army to challenge him. In a decisive battle, Djem lost and had to flee. He sought the protection of the Knights of St. John, who saw in Djem a valuable bargaining chip in the struggle against the Ottomans. The Knights therefore welcomed him to their base in Rhodes and told Sultan Bajazet that they would keep him out of his skin in return for an annual subsidy of 45,000 ducats. Realizing that Djem was a goose that laid golden eggs who might be coveted by other European powers, the Knights sent him to France for better safekeeping. Once there, the Regent, Anne of Bourbon, put the Muslim prince up for auction among competitors eager for the lucrative hostage.

Here, Pope Innocent VIII stepped in and acquired Djem by offering a cardinalship to Pierre d’Aubusson, the Grandmaster of the Knights of St. John. On March 13, 1489, Prince Djem entered Rome accompanied by the Prior of Auvergne. A white horse, a present from the Pope, awaited the Muslim at the city gate. Cardinals sent their households to greet him. Ordinary citizens looked in awe and wonderment at the turbanned Oriental, the brother of Christendom’s sworn enemy, his face covered by a veil. The ambassador of the Sultan of Egypt prostrated himself before Djem and kissed his feet. In one of the strangest events in history, the self-proclaimed leader of the Muslim world was given his own lodgings at the Vatican, the very headquarters of Christianity.

The Pope sent Djem many presents, and the prince spent his time in sport, music, and banquets. He was a man of culture and enjoyed reading. But most of the time, Djem sank into deep depression as he pondered his bleak situation and simply let the hours pass brooding or sleeping. He was always worried that his brother might send an assassin to poison him.

Indeed, many had volunteered to do just that, for a handsome fee, of course. In 1490, a dispossessed baron was caught poisoning the well that supplied the Vatican with water. This attempt on the life of Djem and the Pope was disclosed by the baron as a plot involving many more people. When Bajazet sent his promised subsidy in November, the ambassador who brought it was rubbed down with a towel as a precaution against poison before being admitted into Djem’s presence. When he offered Djem a letter from his brother, the prince ordered him to lick it first.

To many Christians, there must be a day of reckoning for the scandal of an infidel living with the Pope. Innocent VIII finally died in 1492, and Djem was then transferred into the hands of his depraved successor Rodrigo Borgia, known as Pope Alexander VI. Borgia handed him over to the French King Charles VIII who thought Djem might become useful in his campaign against the sultan. The Pope’s son Cesare accompanied Djem to the French camp. One day, Cesare suddenly disappeared, and Djem was afterward taken ill and died under mysterious circumstances. No one really knows what happened. Was he poisoned by Cesare? Only one thing is certain. A short time before, Alexander had received a letter from the sultan promising him 300,000 ducats and a permanent peace in exchange for Djem’s dead body.

So who do you think did away with Djem? I reckon many folks have asked the same question over the years, but history has yet to give a definitive answer. One more for the unsolved bin, I reckon.

Coffee in the kitchen this morning. Looks a lot like more rain.

Soggy Sunday Cartoons...!

Once again the Hermit is here to offer up a ration of silliness and grins. We all could use some once in a while, right?

Today's offering may be one you haven't seen for a while. Then again...maybe you have! Anyway, here we go.



This is another case of the music being one of the most outstanding features of the 'toon.



I reckon we all have days like that, right?



Well, I reckon that's enough for this morning. I can onlt take so much pink in my day, ya know?

Coffee out on the patio today, OK with you?

A Silly Invasion Idea...!

Ever wonder just how some news folks wind up in the middle of war and fighting and protest?

Well, according to this article I found over at KnowledgeNuts, in some cases they actually have funded some of them! That's a pretty scary thing in my book. I mean, I knew that some of the "Newsies" were a little off, but never in such a scale as this.

When CBS News Tried To Invade Haiti

By Alex Hanton on Friday, October 10, 2014

In 1966, CBS News agreed to fund a group of Cuban and Haitian exiles who wanted to overthrow the government of Haiti. In return, CBS would receive exclusive rights to cover the invasion. CBS filmed mercenaries training with weapons bought by the network and actually rebuked a cameraman when they discovered he had warned US authorities of the planned invasion.

During the 1960s, the Cuban Revolution transformed the Caribbean from a minor political backwater into a key Cold War battleground. American media companies rushed to cover upheaval in the region, which was suddenly big business. When British troops invaded the tiny island of Anguilla to put down an even tinier uprising there, they were greeted, not by armed locals, but by a convoy of at least five American news crews. In the dark, the startled British nearly opened fire at the approaching cars but were reassured when the occupants greeted them with a casual: “Hey guys, you’re a bit earlier than we expected you.”

In 1966, CBS News became aware of a spy-turned–arms dealer named Mitchell WerBell III, who claimed to be involved with a group of Miami-based Haitian exiles intent on overthrowing the brutal regime of Jean Claude “Papa Doc” Duvalier. The Haitians had also enlisted the help of Rolando Masferrer, a powerful Cuban exile who had commanded a feared anti-Castro private army during the Cuban Revolution and who had been a key player in the joint CIA/Mafia attempts to assassinate the Cuban leader. Masferrer, who had strong connections to various anti-Castro paramilitaries, hoped to install a friendly Haitian government and then use the country as a base to invade Cuba.

Naturally, CBS News bosses were delighted—a coup in Haiti would be big news, an invasion of Cuba even bigger. When they learned that the plotters were in desperate need of funds, the network saw its chance, offering to subsidize the plot in exchange for the rights to film the invasion force. CBS invested as much as $200,000 in the project, with much of it going toward buying rifles, a boat, and uniforms for the Haitian troops. In return, the network was allowed to film the weapons being smuggled from WerBell’s Georgia estate to a yacht club in Florida. Later, they got exclusive footage of a group of mercenaries training with the weapons—an exercise which had to be cut short when one soldier’s rifle exploded in his face, causing severe injuries. There were also in-depth interviews with the leaders of the invasion force, including a surreal conversation with Rolando Masferrer, who insisted on wearing a pair of women’s pantyhose on his head to disguise his identity. At one point, CBS producer Jay McMullen asked Masferrer whether his arms cache could be exported without government knowledge—conveniently ignoring the fact that the arms had been purchased with CBS funds.

As it turned out, the plan never went anywhere. CBS eventually became impatient with repeated delays and decided to drop the report after becoming suspicious that the plotters had staged the whole thing to extract money from the network. (There’s nothing worse than paying for a war and then not getting one.) Meanwhile, most of the actual reporters CBS sent to cover the invasion, apparently not particularly eager to risk jail time for the sake of a story, immediately became informants for one government agency or another. (A CBS vice president rebuked a cameraman when he was revealed as a government informant). The invasion force fell apart and most of the leaders were arrested and prosecuted by the US authorities (the case against WerBell was mysteriously dropped, possibly after CIA intervention.)

A House subcommittee investigated the involvement of CBS, but generously agreed to close the hearings to the public to protect the network’s credibility. No CBS employees were prosecuted. But the network didn’t get off scot-free—the mercenary whose rifle had exploded sued, claiming that since CBS had funded the invasion, they were his employers and owed him compensation for a workplace injury. The case was settled out of court for a cool $15,000

I know that we will all sleep better knowing that none of the struggles around the globe were actually funded by any of the giant news organizations, right? Kinda the same feeling you get when you hear the words...I'm from the government and I'm here to help!

Coffee out on the patio this morning. Anyone have some cool weather to share?

With Halloween just around the corner I thought that for freaky Friday this time we would do something really scary.

This is no made up story for telling around the campfire, but a true tale...which makes it even more freaky if you ask me. After all, truth is stranger than fiction, right?

Octavia Smith Hatcher

In the late 1800s, the city of Pikeville, Kentucky was shaken with an unknown disease, and the most tragic case of all was that of Octavia Smith Hatcher. After her infant son Jacob passed away in January 1891, Octavia went into a bedridden depression where she gradually became very ill and slipped into a coma. On May 2 of the same year, she was pronounced dead of unknown causes while still in her bed.

Embalming was not yet a practice, and Octavia was buried very quickly in the local cemetery due to the sweltering heat. Barely a week after her burial, many of the townspeople had been stricken with the same debilitating illness and fallen into a comatose state. The difference? After a time, the townspeople began to wake up. Octavia’s husband began to fear the worst and worried that he had prematurely buried his wife while she was still breathing. He procured an exhumation of her grave only to find that his worst fears were in fact true. The lining on the inside of the coffin had been scratched and torn to pieces. Octavia’s nails were bloodied and broken, and her face was contorted with horrific fear. She had died in the ground after being buried alive.

Octavia was reburied and her husband erected a lifelike monument over her grave site. The monument still stands today. It was later speculated that the mysterious illness had been caused by a Tsetse fly, an African insect that can cause a disease known as sleeping sickness.

Now if you want something even more creepy than this little tale, look up on Google (or another search engine ) the articles on modern pre-mature burial or buried alive. You would be surprised at the number of them, I think! Just something to ponder tonight when you go to bed.

Coffee out on the patio again. I hope it doesn't rain on us this early.

The Candy Company Town...!

Nearly everyone knows what company towns were, I'm sure. There were many across America in the early days, but here's a story about one in particular I thought you might enjoy.

Hershey, Pennsylvania: A chocolate king’s industrial utopia

In 1900, Milton Hershey sold the successful caramel candy business he’d founded in order to become a pioneer in the mass-production of milk chocolate. He built a factory complex near his birthplace in rural Pennsylvania, in part because the area’s dairy farms offered access to an ample supply of milk. Due to the remote location of the factory, Hershey also constructed a town for his employees, intending it as an industrial utopia that reflected his progressive beliefs. With streets named Chocolate and Cocoa avenues, the new town featured a wide variety of affordable, modern homes that workers could rent or own, a trolley system, public schools, social clubs, an amusement park and zoo. In 1909, Hershey, who was childless and had a limited formal education, established a local boarding school for orphaned boys. During the Great Depression, he launched a building campaign that kept hundreds of people employed and resulted in the addition of a large hotel, sports arena and other public structures to his model town.

Despite Hershey’s altruism and his chocolate-scented community’s many amenities, life in “the sweetest place on Earth” wasn’t entirely sweet. Efforts were made by Hershey and his executives to police employees’ behavior when they were off the clock, and company managers were accused by some workers of showing favoritism when it came to wages and hiring practices. In 1937, Hershey chocolate factory workers organized the company’s first labor union and went on strike. Although the strike was short-lived, it marred the community’s idyllic image. However, after the chocolate king died in 1945, Hershey survived, unlike other company towns, and chocolate is still made there today.

I guess that when it comes right down to it, folks just don't like to have companies (or governments) trying to control their personal lives. Not a good idea, for the most part! At least they still make chocolate in Hershey...!

Coffee out on the patio this morning. Hot chocolate anyone?

A Steamboat On Western Wednesday...!

Now keep in mind this wasn't just any ol' steamboat, but the first double-decked steamboat! Pretty cool for it's time.

Despite it's size, it was able to traverse many of the more shallow rivers and allowing better access than ever before.

Oct 7, 1816:

First double-decked steamboat, the Washington, arrives in New Orleans

On this day in 1816, a steamboat with a design that will soon prove ideal for western rivers arrives at the docks in New Orleans. The Washington was the work of a shipbuilder named Henry M. Shreve, who had launched the steamboat earlier that year on the Monongahela River just above Pittsburgh. Shreve's cleverly designed Washington had all the features that would soon come to characterize the classic Mississippi riverboat: a two-story deck, a stern-mounted paddle wheel powered by a high-pressure steam engine, a shallow, flat-bottomed hull, and a pilothouse framed by two tall chimneys.

Perfectly designed for the often-shallow western rivers like the Mississippi and Missouri, the Washington proved itself on its inaugural voyage the following spring. Steaming upriver against the current with full cargo, the Washington reached Louisville in only 25 days, demonstrating that the powerful new generation of steamboats could master the often-treacherous currents of the mighty western rivers. Soon the Washington began to offer regular passenger and cargo service between New Orleans and Louisville, steaming upstream at the then dizzying speed of 16mph and downstream at as much as 25mph.

With the brilliant success of the Washington, other similarly designed steamboats followed. At the peak of the era of the paddle wheelers in 1850, 740 steamboats regularly moved up and down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, carrying three million passengers annually. Had it not been for the ready availability of this rapid transportation technology, settlement of the western United States would undoubtedly have been far slower. Many emigrants setting out for the far western part of the U.S. often cut the first stage of their long journeys short by booking passage on a steamboat to the overland trailheads at Independence, Saint Joseph, and Council Bluffs. Gold seekers heading for Montana after 1867 could even take steamboats all the way up the Missouri to Fort Benton, just below the Great Falls, cutting months off the time required for an overland journey.

By the late 19th century, though, the golden age of the western steamboat was over, a victim of cheap rail transport and diesel-powered towboats and barges. But in its era, the steamboat was as important as any explorer or trailblazer in opening the American West to widespread settlement.

It may not seem like a speedy form of transportation, but it shaved months off traveling overland for many folks. Quite a marvel for it's time, for sure!

Coffee out on the patio this morning, OK?