From February 26, 1911

“WE ARE THE RICHEST BUT MOST WASTEFUL PEOPLE” Gifford Pinchot Says Our Great National Resources Are Being Ruthlessly Destroyed or Stolen — How to Correct Errors. (PDF)

Gifford Pinchot, the first chief of the US Forest Service, was a big advocate of conservation of national reserves. In this article, he specifically talk about conserving our forests, water, and coal.

Waste, waste, waste — that is what the famous forester accused us of, and of a waste far more destructive to ourselves, our children, and our children’s children than any which such men as James J. Hill, who merely saw we spend our money recklessly, have ever charged us with…

“Of all the continents,” said he, “this is the richest, and among civilized peoples, there is no record of any so wasteful as ours, who live upon it. When our forefathers over-ran and subdued this country the natural resources which it offered them were so much more in quantity than the early scattered population could possibly use, that waste became a national habit. Never, probably, in the world’s history, and surely never in its comparatively recent history, has this waste been paralleled. We have begun to wake, a little, to the fact of it, but the beginning of our awakening was very recent. It has only just begun to occur to us as a people that waste is a sin, and that in time we shall be compelled to make answer for it as such.”

From February 26, 1911

GRAVE OF LINCOLN’S ASSASSIN DISCLOSED AT LAST: After Nearly Fifty Years, the Spot Where J. Wilkes Booth’s Body Is Buried Is Located — Living Witnesses to Midnight Interment Tell the Story. (PDF)

In September of 1910, the Magazine ran an interesting article about the aftermath of the Lincoln assassination, telling surprisingly tragic stories of those who were in the booth with Abe and his wife. When I posted the article here, a reader named Deej left this note in the comments:

The Magazine article says at the end that Booth’s body was thrown overboard at night, location unknown. That’s not true. He was taken back to DC where a careful identification and autopsy were performed, several of his vertebrae were removed, and can be seen to this day in Washington. In 1869, after IDing the remains again, the govt released his body to the Booth family, and he was buried in the family plot in Baltimore.

I wrote back to that reader telling him to stay tuned because an upcoming article would address that. This is that article.

For fifty years after the assassination, Booth’s fate was kept a secret. In this article, the truth is finally revealed to the public.

Although there are 90,000,000 of people in the United States, not 500 could tell you what became of the body of the assassin of Abraham Lincoln. Some will tell you that the body of John Wilkes Booth was burned to ashes in the Virginia barn in which he was captured. Others will express the opinion that the remains of the misguided actor were cut to pieces and mysteriously dropped into the sea. Then, to add interest to the mystery, some one will claim to have positive information that Wilkes Booth is still alive, and is living under an assumed name in one of the Southern States. One strange story is to the effect that Booth assumed the name of J. W. Bickford of Pittsburg, and that he confided to his roommate in Lexington, Ky., during the months of January and February, 1869, that he was the assassin of Abraham Lincoln.

The body of John Wilkes Booth was not burned to ashes in the Virginia barn nor consigned to a watery grave in the Atlantic Ocean, but it was buried with great secrecy in the presence of at least a dozen witnesses, of whom two are still alive, in Greenmount Cemetery, Baltimore, Md.

The body rests within the same inclosure that contains the graves of his illustrious father and patient mother, as well as other members of the Booth family.

It was but natural that the burial could not take place with the great American public looking on at midday with tear-stained eyes. The body was not consigned to its final resting place until nearly four years after the greatest and saddest tragedy in the history of the Nation.

The article goes on to describe how the body was buried in secret, and how the cemetery helped with the deception.

From February 26, 1911

GOV. A. E. WILLSON ON THE INCOME TAX AMENDMENT: “Most Serious Encroachment on State Rights Since Organization of Our Government,” Says Kentucky’s Chief Executive. (PDF)

The Sixteenth Amendment, which gave the Federal Government the power to tax income without apportioning it among the states, was passed by Congress in 1909. It was then sent to the states for ratification. Three fourths of the states need to ratify an Amendment for it to become part of the Constitution, and there were 48 states at the time, so the Amendment would need support of at least 36 of them.

On the day this article was published, 24 states had already ratified the Amendment. Kentucky Governor Augustus E. Willson wrote this article explaining why he thinks the Amendment is a bad idea for the states, and for the average American. Meanwhile, his own state’s legislature had already ratified the amendment. In fact, they were the second state to do so.

Ultimately, the amendment got more than enough support, and officially became part of the Constitution in 1913.

But that’s not where the story ends. There is a tax resistance movement today which contends that the federal government has no right to tax income. Their arguments say that either the Sixteenth Amendment was not properly ratified, or that the wording of the Amendment does not actually grant the power the government says it does. These arguments have been rejected in several courts, but there are still people who believe Federal income tax is illegal. This view is held by several people of prominence, including Congressman Ron Paul.

From February 19, 1911

WASHINGTON NOT REAL NAME OF OUR FIRST PRESIDENT: Prof. Cigrand’s Researches Lead to Conclusion That It Was De Hertburn — How “Wessyngton” Became “Washington.” (PDF)

When this article came out, Washington’s 179th birthday was just a week away, and so the Times presented this convoluted history of the Washington family showing that the Washingtons were once known as De Hertburn, but changed their names to reflect their estate, called Wessyngton, which was the Norman spelling of Washington. This happened generations before George was born. So, yeah. Washington’s ancestors were not called Washington. Big deal.

The real name of the first President of the United States was not Washington. His baptismal name was George, and he was born Feb. 22 in the year 1732. The old colony of Virginia was his birthplace, but the true name of his male ancestors was not Washington. This may seem a sweeping statement in the light of generally accepted history, but careful research has established beyond doubt that the ancient founder of the family from which came the Father of our Country was named William De Hertburn. The key to this apparent paradox lies int he fact that, in common with many noblemen and monarchs of Europe, the first President possessed an estate name and a real, or family name, the latter being known as the patronymic, or paternal name.

Whatever. It’s not like learning that the Queen of England is actually a man. So Happy Birthday, George Washington, if that is your real name.

From February 19, 1911

BOOKER T. WASHINGTON’S LOGICAL SUCCESSOR: An Elevator Man Who Plans to Carry the Tuskegee Plan Into Oklahoma. Described as Possessor of “a Black Man’s Skull Filled with a White Man’s Brains.” (PDF)

In 1926, Carter G. Woodson named the second week in February as Black History Week. Eventually the whole month became Black History Month. So it’s fitting that we have this article this week, even though it was publishing before any of that happened, to teach us a little bit about black history that we might not already know.

Booker T. Washington is a familiar name. I remember learning about him and his 1895 speech on race relations that brought him to prominence. He was born into slavery, and later became an educator and black leader. His autobiography, Up From Slavery is available as a free download from Google Books.

But until I read this article, I wasn’t familiar with Willis Nathan Huggins, here proclaimed as Booker T. Washington’s logical successor, even though he was only working as a hotel elevator operator:

Employed as night elevator man in one of the smaller but best-known hotels of Washington, D. C., is a negro whose self-education and mental development is such that many white persons of position and influence at the Capital look upon him as the logical successor of Booker T. Washington in the uplifting of the negro race. Black in color as the proverbial “ace of spades,” and having all the facial characteristics of the true African negro, those who have become interested in him and have studied him describe him as possessing “a black man’s skull filled with a white man’s brains.”

Uh… I think that was meant as a compliment, but yikes.

Huggins eventually moved to New York, where he became a teacher and an activist in the New Negro Movement. He went on to write several books on black history.

Huggins remained a teacher in New York City until December of 1940, when he went missing. His body was found in the Hudson River the following summer. Police ruled his death a suicide, although some were suspicious he was murdered over bad business deals.

From February 12, 1911

LIVING STAGE FOLK WHO KNEW AND CHEERED LINCOLN: The Martyr President Was a Frequent Theatregoer and Made Friends of Many Actors and Actresses; Interesting Recollections of Some Who Still Remember Him Vividly, Including Patti, “Lotta” and Carreno. (PDF)

On President Lincoln’s 102nd birthday, the Magazine found some of the actors whom he had befriended, and sought their recollections of the President. Here is Teresa Carreño‘s story of meeting the President when she was just nine years old:

“I was a capricious little minx,” she said in relating the episode, “not a day older than 9, and with a will that was considerably stronger than my physical appearance, which was that of a child even younger.

“As my father and I were going to the White House that morning, he implored me to play something severely classical if Mr. Lincoln should invite me to try the piano. He had an idea that Bach would be suitable for such an occasion, and, although I did not agree with him, I said nothing, resolving mentally to do as I liked — perhaps decline to play at all.

The President and his family received us so informally and they were all so very nice to me that I almost forgot to be cranky under the spell of their friendly welcome. My self-consciousness all returned, however, when Mrs. Lincoln asked me if I would like to try the White House grand piano. At once I assumed the most critical attitude toward everything — the stool was unsuitable, the pedals were beyond reach, and, when I had run my fingers over the keyboard, the action was too hard. My poor father suggested that a Bach ‘invention’ would make me more familiar with the action.

“That was quite enough to inspire me to instant rebellion. Without another word, I struck out into Gottschalk’s funeral ‘Marche de Nuit,’ and after I had finished modulated into ‘The Last Hope’ and ended with ‘The Dying Poet.’ I knew my father was in despair and it stimulated me to extra effort. I think I never played with more sentiment. Then what do you think I did? I jumped off the piano stool and declared that I would play no more — that the piano was too badly out of tune to be used.

“My unhappy father looked as if he would swoon, but Mr. Lincoln patted me on the cheek and asked me if I could play ‘The Mocking Bird’ with variations. I knew the air and didn’t hesitate over the variations. The whim to do it seized me and I returned to the piano, gave out the theme, and then went off in a series of impromptu variations that threatened to go on forever. When I stopped it was from sheer exhaustion.

“Mr. Lincoln declared that it was excellent, but my father thought I had disgraced myself and he never ceased to apologize in his broken English until we were out of hearing.”

Now that I think about it, that’s really more a story about herself than it is about the President.

From January 22, 1911

SENATOR F. D. ROOSEVELT, CHIEF INSURGENT AT ALBANY: He’s a Fifth Cousin of the Colonel, and He Stepped Into the spotlight the First Day He Took His Seat as Leader of the Independent Democrats. (PDF)

100 years ago this month, future President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was sworn into his first political office, as a new member of New York’s State Senate. The Sunday Magazine ran this flattering profile of the young politician, just shy of his 30th birthday.

Those who looked closely at the law-maker behind desk 26 saw a young man with the finely chiseled face of a Roman patrician, only with a ruddier glow of health on it. Nature has left much unfinished in modeling the face of the Roosevelt of greater fame. On the face of this Roosevelt, younger in years and in public service, she has lavished all her refining processes until much of the elementary strength has been lost in the sculpturing.

Senator Roosevelt is less than 30. He is tall and lithe. With his handsome face and his form of supple strength he could make a fortune on the stage and set the matinée girl’s heart throbbing with subtle and happy emotion. But no one would suspect behind that highly polished exterior the quiet force and determination that now are sending cold shivers down the spine of Tammany’s striped mascot.

It’s a great read, especially since we know what became of him. And, as a bonus, if you download the PDF you’ll also receive an article about morris dances, the popular dance of yore that was just now reaching the States.

From January 22, 1911

ANSWERS TO QUERIES ASKED BY READERS OF THE TIMES (PDF)

The New York Times has a history of answering reader questions in columns like Science Q&A and the F.Y.I. feature of the NY/Region section (available in two paperback compilations called The Curious New Yorker and Only In New York).

This article is one early example of a column that ran at least as far back as 1908, often under the name “Queries From The Curious And Answers To Them.”

Here are the rules for submitting a question to the “Queries” column:

This department does not pretend to be infallible. It will endeavor, however, to answer questions sent to it by Times readers to the best of its ability, reserving the right to ignore all that are trifling, or of concern only to the questioner.

To receive attention, every query must bear the name and address of the person sending it. This does not necessarily mean it will be published; only the initials will be used if the questioner so desires. No attention will be paid to queries in which this rule is not followed.

Hundreds of letters are received by this department every week, and it is obviously impossible to answer the writers intelligently through the mails. This is done only in exceptional cases.

Questions concerning the correctness of English sentences will NOT be answered for the reason that the proper reference books are available for the public generally.

Questions as to the value of coins and stamps will invariably be ignored.

And here is a sample question and answer from this week’s column:

Have our scientists ever definitely proved the theory that there are canals on the planet Mars? I am led to ask this question for the reason that I read an article on the subject recently in which the writer, supposedly a man well informed on the subject, appeared to accept the theory as a fact. For my own part, I have always supposed that it was a question admitting of much doubt and one that must forever remain unsettled.

Although the “Canals of Mrs” have long been a subject of discussion among astronomers, it would be incorrect to suppose that there has been any consensus of opinion that these canals actually exist. In fact the most distinguished astronomers look on them as purely mythical and certainly no one has ever come forward with any proof that the marks seen on the planet with powerful telescopes are actually inland waterways…

For a broader look at the column, here’s a sampling of questions asked of the Times over a four year period:

“Kindly let me know whether a Hebrew or a Catholic can be nominated for the Presidency of the United States.”

“Who deserves the credit of being called the discoverer of the art of photography? When and where were the first pictures made?”

“Where is the body of Christopher Columbus buried? Is its present resting place the original grave or was it transferred?”

“Is there any way by which we can determine approximately how old the earth is? I have read and heard the most divergent statements on this question, and am wondering if any one has ever reached what might be called even a fairly accurate conclusion.”

“Is the plural of money ‘monies’ or ‘moneys,’ or is either correct?”

“Has any one — scientist or philosopher — ever attempted to calculate the number of hairs on the human head? We are told by the Good Book that every hair on the head is numbered, but for my part I have never seen any figures on the subject. Can The Times gratify my curiosity?

“We expect to go to Los Angeles or San Francisco, Cal., to live for one year, beginning next month. Would you kindly tell us whether or not it would be advisable to take a set of furs there? In other words, is it cold enough there during the Winter to make furs a necessity?”

“Who was the first Poet Laureate of England, and how did the creation of the title come about?”

“How many pounds in the average bale of cotton?”

“Has a foreigner the right to own real estate in the State of New York?”

“Are Japanese who are born in this country American citizens?”

“Which city in the United States was the first to adopt electricity for street lighting?”

“Please publish the names of the President, of the Vice President, and of the Cabinet.”

“Are there any classes in drawing for adults in the public High Schools evenings?”

“What day did Nov. 13, 1875 fall on?”

“When was the obelisk on Central Park brought to New York, and on what ship? What is the significance of an obelisk?”

“Which is correct: ‘Two teaspoonfuls is the same as one,’ or ‘Two teaspoonfuls are the same as one’?”

“In order to settle a dispute, please tell me what is the height of the Singer Building and the Eiffel Tower?”

“Where can I take a swim near Twenty-eighth Street and the East River?”

“Is it true that there are places in the world where rain never falls? I have traveled rather extensively in various parts of it, but must say that I have never discovered a place where the drouth was perpetual.”

“Please tell me the name of the city in which we live. I have always supposed that it was simply New York, but find that some of my friends think it is New York City in the strict sense.”

For the answers to these and many other questions, download this 6.5MB PDF in which I’ve compiled a sample of “Query” columns from 1908-1912.

From January 15, 1911

A COUNTY WHERE SELLING VOTES IS UNIVERSAL: Even the Women of Adams County, Ohio, Market the Ballots of Their Husbands, Sons and Sweethearts — A Minister Among the Guilty. (PDF)

This scandal is shocking enough that I’m surprised it doesn’t come up during election years. It’s a small but ugly anecdote in American history, and I can find very little mention of it online. For the most part it seems to have been swept under the rug.

For decades, the nice people of Adams County, Ohio openly sold their votes to the highest bidder.

The air in Adams County is clean and bracing. The stars shine larger there in the frosty Winter nights than they do in the cities. Men live close to the soil. It seems like a place set apart for the good things in life, but it is the rottenest borough in the civilized world.

The country folk there are simple. The men wear faded blue shirts, felt boots, and slouch hats. They drive little box buggies through the country. They look innocent. But they do like to boodle…

Elections were clean in the county until thirty years ago when “Calico Charley” Foster ran for Governor. He sent agents through the county buying votes. The traffic was a secret one then, done in whispers and in the dark. Votes sold for $1.

Elections came and were bought. The citizens had a taste of boodle money and they liked it. In the 80s elections became more openly corrupt. Politicians still talk about the “good times” of the 1887 election. That year Ed P. Leedom and Ed Silcutt, two Federal office holders, came from Washington with a carpet bag full of bank notes. Thirty thousand dollars was spent to carry Adams County Democratic that year…

The stories of past campaigns are told, with names, by the actors in them. The stories, for pure civic turpitude, would make a burglar turn pale with envy, but the matter of fact way in which they are related is astounding. One of these citizens who unblushingly tells of his boodle experience is perhaps the wealthiest man in the county. he is certainly the most influential. He was willing to talk if his name were not used.

“Frequently I handle $16,000 in an election,” he said coolly. “It is the only way you can carry an election here. I back candidates as other men back racehorses. It’s fun to win. Wrong? It is the only way, I tell you. The voters demand money. They won’t vote unless they get it.”

In a town where that’s the norm, reaching voting age was like hitting the jackpot:

One of the leaders in the vote-buying movement [says], “Adams County people look upon the matter of buying and selling votes as a business proposition. The average boy waits patiently until he is 21. He knows that after he has become of age he will be able to get sufficient money every year from the party workers to buy his Fall suit. He does not lie, steal, gamble or drink to a greater extent than the boy of the city. His vices are few.

“He knows that he can sell his votes and still keep his position in society. But he also knows that if he breaks other laws he will be ostracized. He takes money from the election worker without a quiver of conscience and takes a prominent part in the next prayer meeting following election day.”

The man who finally blew the whistle was a federal judge named Blair. He had served as Chairman of the county’s Democratic and Republican committees, and he quietly watched this go on for a long time. He even bought votes himself. But at the end of 1910, he convened a Grand Jury to finally put an end to Adams County’s vote sale.

“I have seen the Mayor of West Union, the prosecuting attorney, and other officials watch a farmer’s vote auctioned. He stood on a soap box in the Public Square and the politicians bid against one another.

“When I was Chairman of the Democratic Committee frequently we made agreements to have clean elections. But, while we might have one clean election, the boodlers would kick over the traces the next year.

“These people down here, many of them, do not realize they are doing wrong when they sell their votes. It is a custom. They won’t go to the polls unless they are paid.

“When I was a young fellow, anxious to get ahead, I bought some votes. But I always felt mean when I did it, and I quit. I made up my mind I would break up the practice, and I’m going to if I have to disfranchise every voter in the county.”

Judge Blair put a notice in the newspaper encouraging people to confess voluntarily in order to avoid jail when they are eventually discovered anyway. People came by the hundreds, hoping that they might be able to just pay a small fine and keep their bribe money. As many as 180 indictments were brought in a single day, and the final number totaled more than 1,000.

That’s more than 1,000 people in a single county indicted for selling their votes. And yet today, with all the stories in the news every election cycle about voter fraud and disenfranchisement, I’ve never heard about this incident before.

Scandalous.

From December 25, 1910

BALTIMORE TRIES DRASTIC PLAN OF RACE SEGREGATION: Strange Situation Which Led the Oriole City to Adopt the Most Pronounced “Jim Crow” Measure On Record (PDF)

Well, this might be the most depressing and disgusting thing I’ve come across so far in these old articles. The city of Baltimore passed an ordinance that says:

1. That no negro may take up his residence in a block within the city limits of Baltimore wherein more than half the residents are white.

2. That no white person may take up his residence in such a block wherein more than half the residents are negroes.

3. That whenever building is commenced in a new city block the builder or contractor must specify in his application for a permit for which race the proposed house or houses are intended.

It’s terrible. But what did the locals think? The Times contacted a woman in Baltimore society for her opinion. “It is a most deplorable thing,” she said, and I felt a bit of relief, until I read the rest of the sentence:

“It is a most deplorable thing,” she said, “that even the best of the well-to-do colored people should invade our residential districts. I am sure the colored race has no better friend than I and those situated as I am. From my earliest recollection my feeling for the race has been one associated with affection; my old negro ‘mammy,’ my little nurse-girl playmate, all are among my happiest recollections.

But the idea of their assuming to live next door to me is abhorrent. I am sure no good can come of it to them. They will be lonesome up here away from the rest of their kind. It is a sad thing, and I do hope there will be found some way to put a stop to it. I would hate at my time of life, after living so many years in such pleasant relations with the darkies, as all my family always have, to be compelled to change my ideas upon the subject.”

Yikes. For an opposing viewpoint, the Times found a black man with some expertise on the matter. For one thing, it was his own occupancy of a home in Baltimore that practically precipitated the whole ordeal. And for another, he happens to be one of the most successful black lawyers in Baltimore. Let’s see what he has to say:

“The class of colored people in this block which has occasioned so much excitement is a most respectable one. Three of the houses are boarding houses, in which there are no boarders but female teachers in the public schools. The fourth is occupied by a clerk in the Post Office, who has been there twenty years. As far as being peaceful and lawabiding citizens, I challenge the rest of the block to show its superiority over those four colored families. We did not move up there because we wished to force our way among the whites; association with them in a social way would be just as distasteful to us as it would be to them. We merely desired to live in more commodious and comfortable quarters. There were many vacant houses in the block when I moved in; these the colored families I have mentioned have taken.

“As for property deteriorating on account of our advent in that neighborhood, I know it cannot be so, because all of us are paying higher rentals than the white occupants who immediately preceded us, and there is no better criterion of value than the rent a property brings. I have lived now for several months with white people next door to me on either hand, and we have never had the slightest difficulty. I do not try to associate with them socially any more than they with me, and I am sure none of us have any such desire, nor will any attempt be made on my part…

“As to the ordinance in question, it is my opinion as a lawyer that it is clearly unconstitutional, unjust, and discriminating against the negro, although on its face it appears to be equally fair to white and black.”

I can feel the tension in 1910 Baltimore just reading about it.

The Supreme Court ruled racial zoning unconstitutional in 1917. So Baltimore instead turned to the use of racial covenants to keep white neighborhoods white. By the 1930s, African Americans made up 20% of Baltimore’s population, but were confined to 2% of the city’s land area.

It wasn’t until 1968, days after Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, that Baltimore passed a Fair Housing Act to end racial discrimination in housing.

From November 20, 1910

THE BUSIEST MAN OF HIS AGE IN THE WORLD: Roger Sherman Hoar, Massachusett’s Young Legislator, has Enough Jobs for a Dozen Men. He is an Enthusiastic Suffragist Champion and Works Hard for Interests of that Cause. (PDF)

When this article was written, 28 year old Roger Sherman Hoar was a lawyer, State Senator, student, inventor of a waterproof blanket, treasurer of his town committee, trumpeter, cartoonist, cavalryman, organizer of a news agency, secretary of the Free State League, and active suffragist.

But wait! There’s more!

In the decades after this article was written, Roger Sherman Hoar became a notable science fiction author, writing under the name Ralph Milne Farley. He wrote short stories for pulp magazines like Weird Tales and Amazing Stories, and a series called The Radio Man.

From November 13, 1910

GIRL TERRORIST’S ESCAPE FROM A RUSSIAN PRISON: A Fellow-Prisoner Writes the Thrilling Story of Tolya Rogozinnikova’s Flight and Subsequent Execution (PDF)

This is an interesting story, and I can find almost no information about it online apart from this article and a couple of passing mentions in books about historic terrorism and Russian history. 21 year old Tolya Rogozinnikova was apparently a member of the Socialist Revolutionary Party. In 1907, she broke out of the prison where she was being held (I’m not sure for what), strapped 13 pounds of nitroglycerine to her body, and set out to assassinate the St. Petersburg Prison chief. She shot and killed him, but did not get a chance to detonate the explosives. She was eventually tried and executed herself.

This article tells how she initially escaped from prison, written by a woman in a neighboring cell. It’s like the plot of a Soviet thriller. She feigned insanity until she was eventually transferred to the mental asylum, where she talked a nurse into opening a door for her to escape.

Tomorrow is election day, and this year New York has done away with its old election machines in favor of paper ballots. The transition is causing a bit of confusion. For many old time New Yorkers, tomorrow will be the first time voting on paper, and not in a Myers Automatic Booth like the one introduced more than 120 years ago.

Way back on November 23, 1889, The New York Times ran an article titled “VOTING BY MACHINERY: An Ingenious Reform Device Invented By A Rochester Man” (PDF) which described something very similar to the now-familiar booth:

Once inside the door the voter would find before him a curious-looking wall, having the appearance of a telephone switchboard, but with knobs instead of drops.

Mr. Myers proposes to give each party a distinctive color, which it would be expected to retain during its party life. The Republican Party, for instance, might be designated by red, the Democratic by yellow, the Prohibitionist by blue, the Socialist by brown, and so on to the end fo the list. The man who could neither read nor write could then vote a straight party ticket without difficulty, provided he was not color blind. The voter would then find before him rows of tickets, each row proceeding down from a large piece of pasteboard of the same color as the tickets under it and bearing the name of the party…

If the voter is an old-fashioned Republican or Democrat who never splits his ticket, he selects the red or yellow, as the case may be, and presses all the knobs under that color. A knob once pressed inward cannot be drawn out again while the man is in the voting booth, and by an ingenious but simple contrivance Mr. Myers has made it impossible for two knobs for Governor or Congressman or any other office to be depressed at the same time.

Having pressed the knobs of all the candidates for whom he desires and is permitted to vote, the voter passes out at a second door and finds before him a third door, which he cannot open until he has closed the second. He then finds himself entirely cut off from the little compartment where the voting was done. The act of closing the second door raises a lever that in turn operates other levers, which release the depressed buttons or knobs that the voter has pressed.

Having grown up hearing the phrase “pull the lever for” as a synonym for “vote for,” I always wondered what that meant exactly. The first few elections I voted in used butterfly ballots, and I was disappointed that there was no lever. Once I moved to New York, though, I came to enjoy the clunky mechanical ka-chunk! of the big lever that registers your votes.

On November 6, 1901, the Times ran another article about voting machines after the first trial in an election. This time the headline read, “VOTING MACHINE WAS PRONOUNCED A SUCCESS; Told Result in a Brooklyn District Two Minutes After 5 o’clock.” (PDF)

The voting machine, which was used for the first time in Brooklyn, in the Eighteenth Election District of the First Assembly District yesterday, proved a pronounced success in one respect at least — in the promptness with which it made known the total vote cast in the district. The entire results of the voting was known two minutes after the polls closed at 5 o’clock…

“If New York City goes another year without placing voting machines in every election district,” said [Lieutenant Governor] Woodruff, “it will be a shame and an outrage on the people. I have just come from another election district, and when I left there the Inspectors hadn’t even gotten the ballots unfolded. Here the entire work of counting the vote is already completed.”

…The poll clerks figured out that the average time taken by each voter in voting with the machine was eighteen seconds. As a rule, those who voted split tickets occupied more time in the booth than the voters who voted the straight tickets. Each voter was allowed one minute’s time in the booth, whereas under the prevailing system of voting a voter is allowed to remain in the booth five minutes.

The test of the voting machine yesterday was made in the election district in which Elections Commissioner Michael J. Dady lives. He was the first man to vote, registering his choice of candidates in just three seconds.

By paper or by machine, don’t forget to vote tomorrow!

From October 30, 1910

WAS QUEEN ELIZABETH A “FAMOUS IMPOSTOR?” Mr. Bram Stoker Brings Together Some of the Notable “Frauds” of History in Proof of His Theory that “Good Queen Bess” Was a Man. (PDF)

Just in time for Halloween, Dracula author Bram Stoker comes forth with a strange tale. Only this one he alleges to be entirely true. According to Stoker, as detailed further in his book Famous Impostors, Queen Elizabeth of England was actually a man.

Moreover, “she” really was once a female. The transformation came about when the young Princess Elizabeth went out of town with her governess for a bit of fresh air:

While she was there word came that the King was coming to see his little daughter. Shortly before his arrival, however, “the child developed acute fever, and before steps could be taken even for her proper attendance and nursing, she died. The governess feared to tell her father — Henry VIII had the sort of temper which did not make for the happiness to those around him.” The nurse thereupon hid the body and scoured the neighborhood for some living girl child who could be passed off for the Princess.

“But here again was a check. Throughout the little village and its surroundings was to be found no little girl of an age reasonably suitable for the purpose required. More than ever distracted, for time was flying by, she determined to take the greater risk of a boy substitute — if a boy could be found.” And, of course, there was a boy available — “just such a boy as would suit the special purpose for which he was required, a boy well known to the governess, for the little princess had taken a fancy to him and had lately been accustomed to play with him. Moreover, he was a pretty boy, as might have been expected from the circumstance of the little Lady Elizabeth having chosen him as her playmate. He was close at hand and available. So he was clothed in the dress of the dead child, they being of about equal stature.” King Henry, it is said, suspected nothing during his visit, as Elizabeth had always feared him and there had never been any of the intimacies of father and daughter between them.

The name of the boy who grew up to be Queen Elizabeth: Neville. And now you know the rest of the story.

From October 23, 1910

THE AMAZING AND VERSATILE BARNEYS OF WASHINGTON: An Undraped Statue on Their Lawn Has Thrown Into the Lime-Light a Family Whose Talents and Unconventionalities Keep Society in the National Capital in Constant Expectation (PDF)

If there were a 1910 version of the Bravo TV series The Real Housewives of DC, Alice Barney would surely be the breakout star. A playwright and painter whose work can today be seen in the Smithsonian American Art Museum, the wealthy widow Alice and her daughters Natalie and Laura were the talk of DC gossip circles.

One recent day a nude statue appeared on the Barneys’ lawn, and word spread that it was a likeness of one of the daughters, sculpted by the other daughter, who was known to be studying sculpture. DC society flocked to the Barney home to see it. On October 14, the Times ran a piece about the statue:

What is the Barney statue? When was it placed on the lawn of the fashionable residence in Massachusetts Avenue? Who placed it there? And why? Does it represent the beauty of Miss Natalie C. Barney, the younger daughter of Mrs. Albert Clifford Barney, or is it the likeness of some maid of antiquity? These are questions that are being asked in diplomatic, social, and official circles, and no one can reply with certainty.

The Hindu butler at the Barney home, who answers to the strange name of Only, to-day caused the statue to be placed in a coffin-like box and holds the key to the lid. The lid may be lifted if Only is properly approached.

It turned out later that the sculpture was an antique. The older daughter Laura was in fact working on a sculpture of Natalie, but it was just a bust, and not a nude.

The whole ordeal prompted the Sunday Magazine to write this profile of the Barneys. Here is an excerpt from the introduction:

An undraped statue on the lawn brought the Barney family of Washington into international notoriety in a day. Yet for years the members of this remarkable household have kept the National capital in a state of constant expectancy.

They are more than a family, these Barneys; they are an issue.

Whenever a select and exclusive group of the smart set gathers about the dining table, and the flow of nimble wit, sent sparkling on its way with the advent of the oyster, and degenerating into a sluggish stream of inane platitudes with the arrival of the entree, is sinking, lifeless, into a pool of silence with the incoming of the ice, the watchful hostess, unfluttered by the critical situation, reaches back into the convolution of her brain marked “Emergency” and, drawing forth, deftly tosses into the centre of the table this conversational bombshell:

“What do you really think of the Barneys?”

Then she leans back, smiling comfortably, while her guests lock horns and silence flees.

“They are poseurs, learned only in the stale devices of studied eccentricity!” exclaims a beribboned member of a legation.

“Nonsense!” hotly replies a famous engineer, “it is genius scorning the narrow conventionalities of society.”

“Genius nothing!” interrupts a scientist with seven letters after his name, “the veriest tyro in art or literature or ethics would laugh at the Barneys’ pretensions. They fool nobody but the simple minded.”

“What but genius could ever show such remarkable versatility in every branch of art as Mrs. Barney has exhibited in the last ten years?” puts in a literary woman who boasts that she positively refuses to write for the newspapers.

“And what but oddity and freakishness would build a quarter-of-a-million dollar house and not put a bed in it!” exclaims the practical wife of a Cabinet officer.

Yes, silence has departed thence. For the Barneys, themselves of the ultra-fashionable set in Washington, furnish a perennial subject of heated debate in that city, no matter when or where the Barney name be mentioned.

Move over, Michaele Salahi.

From October 9, 1910

THE SUPREME COURT AND THE ANTI-TRUST ACT: Victor Morawetz Discusses the Interpretation and Effect of the Sherman Law — The Sugar Trust Case. (PDF)

This rather lengthy piece will be of primary interest to the business-law-minded of you. The Sherman Anti-Trust Act went into affect in 1890, and just a couple years later the Sugar Trust Case came before the Supreme Court, in which The American Sugar Refining Company defended itself against accusations of monopolistic practices for controlling almost all the sugar production in the United States. The issue in this case was whether or not a company can really have a monopoly on manufacturing a product, as opposed to distribution. Nearly 20 years after the Sherman Act passed, the Times Magazine enlisted Victor Morawetz, an expert on anti-trust law, to discuss how the Act has been interpreted and effected business. He uses the Sugar Trust Case and others as examples.

And if you’re really, really business-law-minded, you might enjoy reading the complete Sugar Trust Case decision.

From October 2, 1910

HOW NEW YORK CITY SPENDS ITS MONEY EVERY YEAR: For the First Time the Public Is Informed by a Novel Budget Exhibit Just Where Its Millions Go. (PDF)

The annual budget of New York City 100 years ago was $163 million. For the first time, the city revealed just where that money goes, in a public exhibition about the 1910 budget.

“The purpose of the exhibit will be to acquaint taxpayers and interested citizens with every item of expense, and disseminate information regarding the management of the city’s business affairs. It will be a revelation to know that the City of New York performs a broader variety of work than any other city in the world, and that the benefits it distributes are many times more numerous than the ordinary citizen supposes.”

For comparison, you can find the city’s current budget online at the Office of Management and Budget.

From September 11, 1910

GAS TESTS IN THE CAPITOL: Effect of Congressional “Hot Air” as Shown by Official Experiments (PDF)

Neither the House nor Senate chamber had fresh air circulation, so carbon monoxide was building up in various parts of the Capitol building. In order to make improvements to air flow, air quality tests needed to be done. The prospect of reporting on which parts of the Capitol had the most gas was just too delicious for the Sunday Magazine to resist. Oh, the hilarity.

From September 4, 1910

“THE SIGNIFICANCE OF LABOR DAY” BY SAMUEL GOMPERS: The President of the American Federation of Labor Writes of the Meaning of National Holiday and How It Originated (PDF)

As we head into the Labor Day weekend, it seems appropriate to include this article explaining the holiday, written by AFL president Samuel Gompers.

From September 4, 1910

RATHBONE ENDS LONG LIST OF LINCOLN PARTY TRAGEDIES: All Who Were With the President When He Was Assassinated Met Death in Some Unusual or Tragic Manner (PDF)

This was new to me: the night Abraham Lincoln was shot, there was actually another couple in the private box with the Lincolns at Ford’s Theatre, and it turns out that their story is even more gruesome than the Lincons’ story. In fact, it seems that anyone who was in that box that night met bizarre or early death. On the occasion of the death of Major Henry Rathbone, the last survivor from the box, the Sunday Magazine reviewed the events of that day, and the fates of all who were there.

On April 14, 1865, there were four people seated in the box at the theatre. “The President sat in the corner nearest the audience, Mrs. Lincoln next to him; Miss Clara Harris sat near Mrs. Lincoln, and behind her young Major Rathbone.” The latter two were step-siblings who had fallen in love. “The President and Mrs. Lincoln had a warm liking for the pair, and had invited them to share the box.”

After the play began, John Wilkes Booth entered from the ante-room adjoining the box and fired his shot into the President’s head. Rathbone lunged at him, but Booth slipped away, shouted “The South is avenged!” (according to this article, but “Sic semper tyrannus!” according to most sources) and jumped over the box. An actress on stage named Laura Keene urged everyone to remain calm. Clara Harris, “from the box, called to her to bring water. She ran and got some and flew up the stairs to the box.” And now there were five people in the box: the President, his wife, the young couple in love, and Laura Keene.

Here were five people shut up together with the crime. The curse was upon them all. Not one of them — and they all had fame, wealth, happiness, and love apparently within their grasp — failed to come to a tragic or untimely end.

All the world knows that Lincoln died early the next morning, without having regained consciousness. His wife was for a long time prostrated. For several weeks she was confined to her bed. Then she bestirred herself so far as to go over the personal effects of her husband, giving mementos to his closest friends. When this duty was done she returned to Illinois to spend the rest of her days in melancholy.

Not much has been told of Mrs Lincoln’s after life — there was not much, for that matter, to tell. No wife could ever have really recovered from the shock of such a tragedy, and Mrs. Lincoln rallied even more slowly than was hoped. She never came out altogether from the cloud, and as her years increased her melancholy grew. She had a horror of meeting people, yet in her disordered brain the idea remained that there were imperative social duties that must be attented to. She would order gowns and concern herself wearily with preparations for some phantom function. Then the gowns would be sent away, unworn, and she would brood until again she felt that she must attend to her duties, and the same dreary business would begin again. Thus she ended her days, blighted from the moment that Booth stood a few feet behind her chair and took his aim.

Mrs. Lincoln lived until she was 63, but towards the end of her life she was suicidal and delusional. After one suicide attempt, her son Robert had her institutionalized. See Wikipedia for more details. But first read on for the fates of the others in the box. It gets worse.

Miss Keene was a woman of stern stuff, “as fitted,” said one who knew her “to act a part in tragedy off the stage as on.” Self control was natural to her. Alone of all the people in the theatre she had known what to do and had done it. But strong natures do not fail to suffer from such repression.

Her daughter was at school near Washington, and the next day hastened to her mother. “As I spoke to her,” says the girl, “she trembled from head to foot. She could not speak. To hearten her I said, ‘Mother, where is your old-time courage?’ But it was no use.” Laura Keene had received her death blow, too. She lived, it is true, for several years and worked hard and successfully, as she always did, but the nerve had gone. She could no longer stand the strain that she had once borne bravely and, worn out, she died at the age of forty-four, at the height of her career, another victim of Wilkes Booth. [She died of tuberculosis.]

The two lovers, Miss Harris and Major Rathbone, left the theatre and made their way through the frenzied crowd on the streets broken with grief and shock. But they had each other, they had wealth and position and all the good things of life. They never thought as they turned from the place of crime and death that over them hung a fate more awful than they had seen befall him they held the best of men…

Major Rathbone was appointed Consul in Germany and the pair lived as happily as had been prophesied. But the husband added to his devotion to his wife a great and perfectly unreasonable jealousy. As time went on he developed fits of temper, enough to make their friends class him as “peculiar.” Perhaps they added: “And it seems to grow on him,” but none were prepared for the tragedy that followed. One day the news came from Germany that Mr. Rathbone had killed his wife and committed suicide. Nobody believed it. It was some other person or name; everybody knew the devotion of the Rathbones. Then official documents came, and there was no longer any doubt. Henry Rathbone had indeed murdered his wife, but thought he was thought to be dying from his own wound he was not yet dead. The letter added that Mrs. Rathbone’s sister and the children had “escaped.”

Escaped what, asked everybody, horrified and puzzled. It was only after many delays that the full truth came to this country. Specialists had examined Rathbone, and declared that he had long been insane. It was not mere temper, but a disordered mind that his friends had noted for so many years. How long had he been insane? The experts could not say. But probably the murderer who stole into Lincoln’s box that night had brought madness to the young man, and a death unspeakably awful to the girl he loved…

Thus four persons who were bespattered by the blood Booth shed that night have found a tragic end, four persons who were not only innocent of all wrong-doing, but who had every gift a fortunate fate could bring. There remains the murderer, man gifted as few have been with beauty and charm and genius. Everybody loved Wilkes Booth. His friends could never believe that he acted on his own initiative in the matter of the conspiracy…

Booth fled the theater and made his way to a farm in Virginia, where he was eventually hunted down by the Union Army and shot on site. The soldier who killed him was named Boston Corbett. His story, too, took a tragic twist:

Not quite yet is the story of horror ended. The man who shot Booth, Boston Corbett, was popular with his fellow soldiers, deeply religious, but not, they said, without plenty of humor. He had kept up their spirits on many a hard march. He went to Kansas, was [afflicted] with homicidal mania, and died raving mad in an asylum, the last victim of the curse.

But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?