Genevieve Manion (0:00)

This episode is brought to you by Meundies. While Meundies can't totally help your love life, this Valentine's Day they can offer you insanely comfy undies and loungewear to buy or gift. Meundies has so many awesome Valentine's Day prints and styles. Plus you can match with your partner, friends or even your pets this Valentine's Day. Give the gift that'll keep them thinking of you and score huge site wide savings@meundies.com Spotify that's meundies.com Spotify Meundies comfort from the Outside in hello and welcome to My Victorian Nightmare. I'm your host Genevieve Manion, and I'm here to talk about mysterious deaths, morbid fascinations, disturbing stories, and otherwise spooky events from the Victorian era. Because to me there's just something especially intriguing, creepy and oddly comforting about horror and mayhem from the 19th century. So listener discretion is advised. Hello friends and welcome to this, my 27th episode, which is technically my 30th episode. If you include all the minisodes that I was going to do that I stopped doing, because I can't make minisodes of this stuff, there's just too much to talk about. Apologies for the many inconsistencies that abound here in Manion Manor. I hope that you had a wonderful week despite the descent into fascism in the United States. I had a great week. A current event slithered into my Instagram feed, so I went ahead and put that down and invited some ladies over and made some much healthier and inspiring current events of our own. We burned some intentions, we practiced practiced some gratitude. We fortified our hearts for the long years ahead and we talked about how we're engaging with our communities. I've started a tenants association in my building, which is something I never ever could have imagined myself doing. I live in one of those old pre war buildings in Brooklyn with a crooked landlord. So I decided now might be a good time to face my crippling fear of talking to people I don't know and get to know my neighbors and learn what they're also going through in this building. It's kind of wonderful how when you set out to help people, the whole world starts helping you. I had no idea how to do this, and just when I was thinking about how I wanted to help my community, a tenant advocate showed up on my doorstep and asked if I wanted to get involved. So I was like maybe I could get the city involved too, for good measure. And so I contacted my city councilwoman's office and now they're involved and things are already changing in the building and it feels really good. So if you feel helpless, just help the helpers. Help the people who are already in your community helping out. Or just start helping and watch the helpers start to surround you, like rubbing a balloon on your shirt and sticking it to your head with electricity. This is how they come. It is quite miraculous before we get to today's episode, some very important Haunted Housekeeping. I can't tell if British folks actually thought that I didn't know that the London Underground is referred to as the Tube and actually thought that I thought it was literally called the Tube, or if they're just in denial that that's how most Londoners say it. The comments I got on last week's episode made me question my sarcastic sarcast sarcasometer. I blame myself. I must have sounded very convincing when I said that the Underground is also referred to as the Chube C H O O B. At the very least, I just want to say here now, no, I did not do an entire episode on a form of transportation without knowing what it's actually called or how it is spelled. You could be rest assured. Although I say this like I don't mispronounce cities on every episode, which I do almost every episode, as I am often reminded. Okay, just needed to get that off my chest. Thank you for rating the podcast on Spotify, the very kindest thing that you can do for me and my podcast, which enables it to continue and shows me that you like it, which is the most important thing despite my egregious pronunciations of your hometowns and and transportation systems. And thank you for those of you who joined my Patreon this week. These folks listen to the podcast ad free and so can you by going to myvictorianightmare.com and finding the Patreon link. And thank you for checking out my new podcast called Dark Poetry. You want to wet your bed? Of course you do. Try falling asleep to that one. I have scared myself with some of those creepy old poems and stories, so please follow and rate that one as well. And finally, you can find all of the visual aids that I mention in today's episode on Instagram Yvictorian Nightmare. Just find today's episode post and swipe on through. Okay, in today's episode Dear Listener, we are diving back into your favorite God Awful at times silly at times, revolting at times simply charming publication from the Victorian era, the Illustrated Police News, Law Courts and Record all of my 2730 ish episodes so far. We still haven't left the 1871 volumes. For the most part. I've ducked into a few from like, 1886, but there are just seemingly endless insane articles packed into these papers. I love it, so I'm going to be chewing on just 1871 for a while. Today I have for you a church lunatic, a woman that takes investment advice from her dead husband, a cannibalistic affair between two ladies, the curious caper of an unruly cow, a locomotive disaster, mayhem, mysterious tragedies, and a man who saved an entire New Hampshire town because he loved his girlfriend a little too much. Let's begin with our church lunatic, shall we? The title of this article is the services at St Stephen's Church, New York City Disturbed by a Lunatic. And it reads, the services in St. Stephen's Roman Catholic Church, 28th street near 3rd Avenue, N.Y. had reached their most interesting part on the 24th, and everyone with bent heads were worshiping according to the tenets of their faith. When an unearthly yell was heard and the congregation. Congregation, turning round, saw a man, respectively dressed, writhing in apparent agony in the central aisle. He was a howling maniac. From his lips came the most dreadful cries and oaths. He danced and swung his arms around his head and tore his hair. The services were, of course, suspended, and the officiating clergyman turned round on the altar and stood there aghast, waiting for the the end of the unusual and unseemly scene. Several of the congregation left their seats with the intention of removing the disturber from the church, but were forestalled by Officer SIMS of the 26th Precinct. He seized the lunatic and forced him out of the church, the crazed man making a desperate resistance with the aid of some citizens. Officer Sims removed the prisoner to the 34th Street Police Station, where he was searched and examined. It was then ascertained that the lunatic was John killian, residing at 1417 Broadway. From the station house he was taken to Bellevue Hospital, where he is now. Okay. Sadly, I was not able to find more information on this particular gentleman or what ended up happening to him, but I was able to find some tidbits. Today, 1417 Broadway is an office building and the church itself is still there. It opened in 1854, and I read that the first pastor, Reverend Jeremiah W. Cummings, criticized the management and mode of instruction in Catholic colleges and seminaries, which he styled cheap priest factories. This started a priest fight with an Archbishop Hughes, who staunchly disagreed. Another priest fight occurred between the second Reverend McGlynn and an archbishop, John McCloskey, who believed that that reverend was too publicly socialist. Priest fights aside, the church in this day was described as the most fashionable and most frequented church in New York, its services and music making it a local attraction, as described in an article article called Reflections on the Catholic Press. Most fashionable church, eh? This brings into my mind a yassified Jesus Christ and like Gucci loafers and it's fun to think about. On to our next article. Okay, if you're eating, if it's your lunch break and you just unwrapped a beautiful turkey sandwich, you might want to wrap that turkey sandwich back up till the end of this article and then maybe go for a walk or play some Tetris or something, because you're gonna want to get the imagery painted herein washed thoroughly out of your mind first. It is called A Cannibalistic Female in New York Bites off the Ear of Another Beauty. And beauty is in quotes and the article reads, Rosanna Mason and Ada Hables, two of the most revolting specimens of humanity ever seen, even in the 6th Ward, became engaged in an altercation in a house of prostitution, corner of Water and Dover Streets, on the morning of December 24, during which Ada displayed her cannibalistic propensities by biting Rosanna's left ear and one finger nearly off. The girls were both arraigned at the tombs around 12 o'clock on the same day, where they presented a sight at once sickening and revolting. Rosanna's ear hung down on the side of her neck, suspended only by a small portion of flesh, while her face, hands and clothes were literally covered with blood. To add to her shocking appearance, she was in a frightful state of intoxication and amused herself while in court by crying and cursing at any and everything that chanced to come in her way. But as disgusting as Rosanna appeared, the cannibalistic Ada far surpassed her in point of hideousness. Without being guilty of the least exaggeration, it is perfectly safe to say that her countenance is the most hellish, the most damnable that ever disgraced the tomb's police court. While looking at her, one cannot but think of a huge gorilla with its grinning face and leering eyes. She was so much intoxicated that it was with difficulty that she could maintain a perpendicular position, her red hair hanging in tangles about her face and down her back, both of which were besmeared with blood from the ear and finger of her victim. Her voice resembled nothing so much as the growling and snarling of an enraged tigress. And she continually employed it in hurling imprecations and epithets at the unfortunate Rosanna, who was by no means slow in retorting. Both women were committed to the Tombs. Okay, no, I couldn't find anything on these two ladies which made me very upset. But we can certainly talk about the Sixth Ward and the Tombs. Firstly, the Sixth Ward, otherwise known as Five Points in Manhattan. The backdrop to the film Gangs of New York was a Victorian era neighborhood in lower Manhattan. This area was called Five Points because in about 1809, Anthony street was extended east to the junction of Cross and Orange streets with a third street that ended their intersection, creating Five Points. This was a slum neighborhood that gained international notoriety for being densely populated, festering with disease and crime. This area existed for over 70 years. The area was originally built for middle and sort of middle upper class folks. But those homes were built on a landfill that sat where a pine pond used to sit. It was poorly engineered, so the homes just started sinking into the ground. Foundations shifted. Methane gas began to release from the mud. The unpaved streets became buried in mud mixed with human and animal filth. Due to the inadequate sewer system. It was also infested with mosquitoes. I imagine even more so than New York is already in the summer months. You may be unaware that the mosquito becomes the official bird of New York between the months of June and September. It is a nightmare. This area had the highest murder rate than any known slum in the entire world. In the 1800s. There was an urban legend that the old brewery, otherwise known as Coulthard's brewery from the 1790s hadn't seen a murder free night for 15 years. Until its demolition in 1852. This area was considered to be America's first official melting pot due to the cohabitation of primarily folks from Ireland who immigrated during the Great Famine and black folks, many free and escaped slaves from the south that moved north. Although there were many tensions, Five Points is believed to be the the first large scale instance of voluntary racial integration in the United States. Irish and black folks in the Five Points neighborhood helped not only to contribute to the shaping of the culture of New York, but the world. Dance halls in this area that fused Irish reels and jigs with African shuffles eventually gave birth to tap dance. And the fusing music styles of fast Irish jigsaw and gospel became jazz and rock. Italians first settled in the Five Points area in the 1850s, branching down Mulberry street to create little Italy, apart from being famous for its crime and prostitution, disease and poverty, it may have been most world renowned for its riots. Just because black folks and Irish folks enjoyed making music together, this did not mean that they things always went smoothly. Class and religious divides between them, the Italians and nativist, anti abolitionist Protestant white folks who controlled the region since the American Revolution would often ignite into gang violence and full blown riots. The Dead Rabbits riot began when one gang destroyed the headquarters of another gang called the Bowery Boys. They retaliated and a huge riot started on Bayard street between Bowery and Mulberry on July 4, 1857. This expanded to center street with barricades being erected. Incidentally, though some historians believe that this name the Dead Rabbits wasn't a name that the gang created. Some believe it was just a name assigned to them by reporters and newspapers. An article in the New York Daily Times from July 6 writes quote, brickbats, stones and clubs were flying thickly around and from the windows in all directions. And the men ran wildly around brandishing firearms. Wounded men lay in the streets and the sidewalks and were trampled upon. Now the Rabbits would make a combined rush and force their antagonists up Bayard street to Bowery. Then the fugitives being reinforced would turn on their pursuers and compel a retreat to Mulberry, Elizabeth and Baxter streets. Criminals from Five Points began to engage in widespread looting on July 8, with an estimated 800 to 1,000 gang members looting the Bowery area. Suffice it to say, this was a rough time for New York and a rough place that those two ladies that I just talked about came from. Today, what was in that article referred to as the Tombs Prison now exists as clustered facilities for the Department of Corrections. The Tombs was the primary prison for Five Points criminals and a great many of them were incarcerated and executed there. The area today also includes many city and state administration buildings as well as Columbus Park, Collect Pond park and Foley Square. I tried to find exactly where that old brewery from the 1790s originally stood. The place where a murder happened every night for 15 years. And it was a little tricky because none of the streets are called the same and the names have changed a few times since. But I was able to find just about where it was on now Moscow Street. When looking on Google Maps I see it's a part of Chinatown now and about where a place now called Everything Frosted stands. I also see a really lovely mural beside it dedicated to honoring the Lenape people who lived there before all of the folks I just mentioned did, as well as advocating for the safety of the Chinese people who currently live there. It's really quite beautiful. It says, quote, we acknowledge with respect the Lenape people's relationship with Lenape hawking where New York City sits. Our vision of safety for Chinatown communities is interconnected with indigenous flourishing and self determination. End quote. I feel there is something very poignant and touching here that makes me want to cry. It's kind of hard to put into words. There is also a Google street view shot right across the street from this mural where the brewery stood, of a woman that looks like she's just simply had it, talking to a guy in pink shorts with his hands on his little hippies and a Styrofoam container in one hand and a fist of consternation in the other is just so intriguing. I put all of these images on the Instagram, by the way, and all of my references for today's episode can be found in the show notes okay, this next one is fun and it includes one of my favorite topics from the Victorian era, spiritualism. It is written pretty sarcastically at times, so it's a little tricky to get exactly what the reporter is trying to prove here, but the title is Spiritual Speculations. A widow's husband directs her investments in real estate, and it reads it is common, and, we suppose, eminently fitting and proper, that disembodied spirits should go loafing about this earth plane, tipping tables, rapping on household furniture, and writing in wretched chirography, senseless messages to easy dupes. But when these spirits take such an interest in their friends on the earth plane, that's the way the believer styles this mundane spherethat they advise them in financial matters, they become practical and serviceable to someone. A strange and incomprehensible instance of this character occurred a few weeks ago. A recital of it, and we get it on undoubted authority, will make converts and crush skeptics. An old lady who amicably separated from her second husband, her first having crossed the river beyond the earth plain on account of incompatibility, became fascinated with spiritualism. She enjoyed the friendship and benefits of a lady medium at the West End who gave her communications from her first first husband. The old lady's faith in the New Gospel was firm as a rock, and she never doubted his spiritual correspondence. On one occasion she received a message from the dear departed informing her that the $100 she had at her credit in the bank, one of the best in the city, was in danger. The bank was unsafe, and she must transfer it to another bank immediately. The old lady never rested until the advice of the old chap in the spirit land was complied with. The money was transferred. At another visit, the medium received another communication from the old man saying that the old lady should invest her money in real estate, whereby she would realize a handsome return. At another time he would select the land for her. This advice was swallowed and the old lady, like Barcas, was willin'end. Quote. At another seance. The property was located on York street. And the old lady went to the place designated and wonderful to tell, Found three lots for sale. Now, which of these lots should she buy? She could only tell through the speculative spirit of the deceased. She made another call on the medium and the obliging spirit was pleased to designate the lot that had two sticks thrust in the ground on the front and rear. It furthermore advised the old lady that $33 a foot would be asked for the lot. But, and here the spirit displayed an earthly shrewdness. She must not give more than $30 a foot with such definite directions. The old lady paid another visit to the three lots and sure enough found the sticks in the ground as described by the spirit of her husband. She found the agent who had the property for sale. What would he sell that lot for? $33 a foot, madam. Wonderful coincidence. Just as the old man had told her. I'll give you $30 a foot and not a cent more, says the forewarned old lady. And strange to say that real estate agent agreed and sold the lot, the old lady paying for it and receiving the deed. Now this is as true and real a fact as the deed itself. And skeptics may make the most of it. There is one little fact in connection with it, however, which we forgot to state. It has been discovered in the last week that the lot purchased by the old lady at the spirits secure suggestion at $30 a foot and which had been on the market for some time without a bid, was owned by the medium through whom the spirit made his communications. Wonderful. Okay, first, that strange line. She, like Barkis, was a willin. That's a reference to a character named Barkis in Charles Dickens novel David Copperfield Field, who was willing to marry Clara Pegatti, another character. This phrase became a saying that meant simply, you were amenable to suggestion. Incidentally, I have an entire episode on spiritualism. It's episode seven if you want to hear more about these folks and their spooky ways. Second, this maybe did or didn't happen. As mentioned before, the Illustrated Police News often just made stuff up that they thought would get eyes on the paper. Usually funny or grisly stories. All of the flowery language and editorializing makes me think that either this just didn't happen, or maybe a woman somewhere did claim to have been preyed upon financially by a medium and the reporter probably just had a field day with it. But really, who can say that? Aside for a newspaper that spouted so much nonsense, I find it funny that they almost always always picked on spiritualists. I have yet to read a positive article in this paper written about them. They're always portrayed as easily duped, insane, downright fiendish or horny. I just think it's funny because the journalists were no one to judge what was right or wrong or weird based on their day to day content. But also I'm not surprised really because for all it was a trashy time tabloid, they liked to fancy themselves qualified to judge fast moving women who showed any signs of independence, surgeons for tampering with God's creation, any black people for any reason, or pretty much any immigrant. I don't read the most racist and bigoted articles in that paper. There are many of them. I don't read them on this show. I personally prefer that they stay buried in the Library of Congress where the they belong. But it's important to note that spiritualists, while yes, some were frauds and abusers of people's trust, people in the most vulnerable of statesmany adherents were very progressive for that era. Apart from believing that the dead could be communicated with through mediums, they were proponents of free love, the concept that people don't have to marry each other to live in loving physical relationships. This was groundbreaking stuff. At the time many spiritualists were suffragists fighting for the rights of women, abolitionists, many were vegetarians. All things that were dismissed by the more conservative public at the time. So I suppose it's not so surprising that even today news media that devotes most of its time to attacking folks with more progressive ideas or immigrants or folks with darker skin also happen to be the trashiest. I say this though, like most news isn't just manipulative tripe nowadays, no matter what the slant is. Like I said, I prefer to make my own newsworthy current events in my apartment with close friends, a cocktail while lighting things on fire. Highly recommended to all. Okay, a little light humor before we descend into darkness. This article is called Curious Capers of an Unruly Cow in Bay City, Michigan and it reads since Mrs. O'Leary's cow got her name in the papers. The whole envious bovine family are cutting up didoes to secure an equal notoriety. The latest exploits are by a cow belonging to a Mrs. Lambert of Bay City, Michigan. Exploring her back yard on a recent evening, she put her head into a barrel, which she couldn't get off. And becoming very much frightened at her condition, she blindly forced her way into the woodshed, thence into the kitchen, and thence into the dining room of the house, becoming all the while more furious. From this room, she made her way into the parlor, throwing down and trampling underfoot everything that came in her way. Mrs. Lambert aroused her husband to a rose, but finding he could do nothing, went for help. The cow next rushed into the bedroom where Mrs. Lambert, with a baby and one child, occupied a bed and another little child in a crib in front of it. The enraged animal mounted the bed, but help arrived, and not an instant too soon. The window was raised, raised from the outside, and a neighbor attempted to enter. When the barrel gave him a blow, which knocked him back against the fence. The children were at last secured and passed through the window, and Mrs. Lambert soon followed. The door of the bedroom was then closed and the cow left to herself. She finally became soothed and walked out after demolishing all of the nice furniture in the lower part of the house. End quote. No historical context needed there. I think I am just delighted that the cow was eventually soothed and the family was ultimately unharmed in body, if not in spirit. Okay. Welcome to the darkness. This one is upsetting. Brace yourself. The article headline says it. A wagon full of people run into by a locomotive in Kentucky. And it reads, the steamer Shamrock, on her way to Cincinnati from Marysville, Kentucky, being compelled to seek a harbor at Moscow, owing to the heavy ice on the afternoon of December 20, transferred her Cincinnati passengers to wagons at that point for conveyance to the city. One of the wagons containing nice persons, most of whom were women, was driven by a man. Man who had been drinking deeply and was in no way fit to be entrusted with such cargo. The party reached the crossing of the Little Miami Railroad near Litherbury's shipyard in the 24th Ward of Cincinnati, just as the 8 o'clock train appeared in sight. When the drunken fool, heedless of the remonstrations of his terrified passengers, attempted to drive across. The front wheels of the wagon had barely touched the track when the engine struck it, knocking it all to pieces and scattered its occupants all along the track. One of the women, a young lady named Bradley, the daughter of a minister living at Maysville was flung between two of the cars and dragged 40 or 50 yards before the train could be stopped. When it did stop, she was found a horribly mangled corpse. Another of the passengers, a lad about 15 years old, a nephew of Mr. Alexander Stevens of Walnut Hills, was thrown out of the wagon with such violence that his skull was fractured and two of his limbs were broken. Strange to say the other persons escaped with few trifling outs and bruises. One of the horses was killed and is the other escaped. Three of the cars in the train were thrown off the track by accident, but with no more serious consequences to the passengers than a bad scare. Thank God the people were all brought to the city on the train. The corpse of the young woman was laid out in the depot baggage room to await the coming of her friends. I think I am also also gonna just leave that article there. I couldn't find any more information on these poor people. I can just see some of those events in my mind so clearly while reading those articles, can't you? Ugh. It's just awful. Okay, this next one came out of my oh my God folder and I know what you're Wasn't that last one suitable for the oh my God folder? No, that one came out of my grizzly folder. I save my oh my God folder for articles like this one and you will see why. When I read the headline, I thought, okay, it sounds bad, but how insane can a single sentence get? Let's find out together. The headline is Mayhem in Lowell, Massachusetts. What can you imagine happened there? It reads, Mr. Murty Quindlen was put under bail in $2,000 at Lowell, Massachusetts on the 27th to answer in the Superior Court for biting off the nose of one James Maclean. End of sentence. I could not find any more information on either of these gentlemen, and I'm glad that I didn't. Moving on to the next one. It is called Another Mysterious Tragedy in Philadelphia. And it reads, another. Another sensation of a horrible nature has shocked the citizens of Philadelphia. On the morning of the 23rd John Predham of 912 S. 22nd St. Came downstairs at about 8:00. When his adopted mother asked him if he would have some breakfast, he ate a hearty one. The mother went down into the cellar, leaving him sitting in a chair. Shortly afterward she heard a heavy fall and called him twice, but got no answer. She then ran upstairs and there, to her horror, found Predem lying on the floor with his face downward in a pool of blood. A close examination revealed the fact that he had Been pierced through the heart by a butcher's knife. How it was done is the mystery. The coroner says he is unable to see, say, from the evidence whether it is a murder, suicide or accident. It was the work of a moment and no one is able to account for it. But it is the theory of his relatives that he may have fallen in one of his fits or weakness and thus impaled himself on the knife. End quote. Firstly, imagine a scenario where a man has a seizure and stabs himself with a knife through his own heart. Was there just a stray butcher's knife on the table at the time? Even that sounds like a pretty likely story. Maybe it was his mother. It does not sound like they did a very thorough investigation there. They did make sure to ask if his breakfast was a hearty one, though. That's good. I looked for this story in other newspapers and found one in the Chicago Evening Post that also made sure to mention the hearty breakfast, although I sadly didn't not find any other articles about the outcome here. This may have just gone unsolved, but I did do a deeper dive on what this other sensation of horrible nature was that was mentioned at the beginning of the article. And it's tough to tell because horrible things happened literally every day in Victorian Philadelphia. But another article in that same paper that happened in Philadelphia was called, a woman killed with a club and an axe and her remains devoured by hogs. This might answer that question. I want to hear that one real quick. Okay, it reads, quote, a poor woman named Frances Shoemaker in Philadelphia was brutally murdered on Monday night week by some unknown person. She was first attacked in her house and beaten with a club, but escaped and was followed and struck with an axe and her head almost severed from her body. When found on the following Wednesday, her remains were nearly devoured by the hogs. No clue to the murderers. End quote. I sadly have no more historical context for this one either. Just Filly was covered in blood in 1871, apparently. And maybe again, if the Eagles either don't or do end up going to the super bowl this year. A little side note, I was in Philly visiting family the year before or whenever the Eagles went to the Super Bowl. But I was there on the night that they won the game that got them to the Super Bowl. And my brother was just looking at his phone going, okay, everybody, you're gonna have to leave. You're gonna have to leave now. The Eagles might win. I was like, isn't that good, though? And he was like, this city is about to be turned upside down. Get out. Get out. So we got in the car and rushed out as soon as we could and they won while we were trying to get out. And it literally felt like the opening scene to the last of us. Chaos everywhere. Just people climbing greased poles and shirtless men in the freezing cold just screaming at you in the streets. They had to block off a major road with a dump truck to contain the madness. Luckily we made it out by like the skin of our teeth. I probably would have died that night if my brother did not give us that heads up. I am not built for team sports emotions. I don't know how to celebrate the complete breakdown of civic order that gives way to like a descent into madness. I just want to hide under a blanket. Go Birds. But like from a distance. Okay, after all of that turmoil, our last article should make you feel a little bit better. It is called A New Hampshire Village Saved by a Doting Lover and it reads, the hero of Bristol, New Hampshire at the present time is a young gentleman whose only claim to distinction is that when he went wooing a few nights ago, he lingered by the side of his enslaver until 3:00 in the morning. After tearing himself away from the lady. As he was walking home, he discovered a house on fire. Now, there hadn't been a house on fire in Bristol before a year and a half. The lover gave a loud yell, the engine company was aroused, and the village saved from destruction. So delighted were the firemen with this that they made a handsome present to the damsel whose personal beauty and delightful conversation compelled her lover to stay much later, or rather, go home much earlier than he should have done. I find it funny that they call her his enslaver. That's an interesting touch, although I feel not enough credit is given to the gentleman here. The fireman gave her a present. I feel this is one of those, for the most part, rare circumstances where the woman got all the credit for the dude's heroic deed. I do hope that he also received a major award. If you enjoyed this podcast and would like to hear more, please please rate the podcast on Spotify. Share the podcast with your friends and leave me comments because I love them so much and make sure to follow my new podcast, Dark Poetry. Be kind to yourselves and I will see you in your nightmares.