Welcome to this week's Link Dump, where it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!A deadly box of chocolates.A brief history of Devil's Island.A suburban Messalina.What may be the oldest story on Earth.A bit of current events weirdness: a mysterious man who keeps showing up at car crashes.A meeting with Napoleon on St. Helena.Christmas and an ancient Roman god.The famed Lincolnshire
Included in yesterday’s trip to Fall River was a stop at Miss Lizzie’s Coffee shop and a visit to the cellar to see the scene of the tragic demise of the second Mrs. Lawdwick Borden and two of the three little children in 1848. I have been writing about this sad tale since 2010 and had made a previous trip to the cellar some years ago but was unable to get to the spot where the incident occured to get a clear photograph. The tale of Eliza Borden is a very sad, but not uncommon story of post partum depression with a heartrending end. You feel this as you stand in the dark space behind the chimney where Eliza ended her life with a straight razor after dropping 6 month old Holder and his 3 year old sister Eliza Ann into the cellar cistern. Over the years I have found other similar cases, often involving wells and cisterns, and drownings of children followed by suicides of the mothers. These photos show the chimney, cistern pipe, back wall, dirt and brick floor, original floorboards forming the cellar ceiling and what appears to be an original door. To be in the place where this happened is a sobering experience. My thanks to Joe Pereira for allowing us to see and record the place where this sad occurrence unfolded in 1848. R.I.P. Holder, Eliza and Eliza Ann Borden. Visit our Articles section above for more on this story. The coffee shop has won its suit to retain its name and has plans to expand into the shop next door and extend its menu in the near future.
At the end of a lovely brownstone row in Bedford-Stuyvesant is an empty space. Enclosed by a chain-link fence, the patchy ground here has been cleared of debris, save for some litter and a pile of wood remnants from a 2022 demolition. When these remnants are finally carted off, it’ll mark the demise of the […]
An article I recently wrote for the British online magazine, New Politic, is now available online. The article, “The Criminal Origins of the United States of America,†is about British convict transportation to America, which took place between the years 1718 and 1775, and is the subject of my book, Bound with an Iron Chain: […]
In 1898, Mrs. Ida Deane, of Dover, Delaware received a box of chocolates by mail from an anonymous sender. When she served them at a dinner party four people died of arsenic poisoning. Was it sent by Cordelia Botkin, the mistress of Ida’s husband?Read the full story here: Murder by Mail.
Soapy STAR notebookPage 14 - Original copy1882Courtesy of Geri Murphy(Click image to enlarge)
OAPY SMITH IN CALIFORNIA♫ California's the place you outta to beSo he loaded up his grip and moved to Grass Valley ♪
This is page 14, dated 1882, the continuation of deciphering Soapy Smith's "star" notebook from the Geri Murphy's collection. A complete introduction to this notebook can be seen on
Youth With Executioner by Nuremberg native Albrecht Dürer … although it’s dated to 1493, which was during a period of several years when Dürer worked abroad. November 13 [1617]. Burnt alive here a miller of Manberna, who however was lately … Continue reading →
A young man with the sallowness of complexion that betokens the excessive use of morphine called at the office of Dr. W.O. Wilcox in San Francisco, April 12, and commanded the physician to give him one "shot" of the drug. The fiend was armed with a surgeon's knife, the blade of which was six inches long, and he volunteered to cut the doctor's heart out.
Dr. Wilcox dashed part of the contents of a six-ounoe bottle of chloroform in the face of the fiend as he made a lunge with the knife. This stopped the wild man for an instant, and the doctor saturated a handkerchief. As the fiend sprang at him a second time the physician pressed the handkerchief to the fellow's nostrils. The fiend sank to the floor and the doctor gave him a "shot" of morphine.
When the fiend regained consciousness he informed the doctor that he had had a really charming visit, adding as he left the office that he would call again, would not forget the number, and would speak a good word for the house. Dr. Wilcox says the next "shot" he gives the fellow will be powder and ball.
"We follow vice and folly where a police officer dare not show his head, as the small, but intrepid weasel pursues vermin in paths which the licensed cat or dog cannot enter."
The Sunday Flash 1841