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Meet the computer you can talk to with Copilot on Windows. Working, creating and collaborating is as easy as talking. Got writer's block? Share your screen with Copilot Vision to help spark inspiration and use Copilot voice to have a conversation and brainstorm ideas. Or maybe you need some tech help with Copilot Vision. Copilot sees what you see. Let Copilot talk you through step by step guidance so you can master new apps, games and skills faster. Try now@windows.com copilot Discover Mercer Labs Museum of Art and Technology in New York City where creativity meets innovation. This holiday season, immerse yourself in a world of interactive exhibits, digital masterpieces and unforgettable experiences. Whether you're with family, friends or exploring solo, Mercer Labs invites you to see art and technology in a whole new light. Get your tickets now@mercerlabs.com and redefine your museum experience. 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 71st episode. I hope that you had a lovely Thanksgiving if you are here in the States. I left early to go to my Aunt Maureen's this year so I did not pack a jar of shrimp to stave off shrimp scarcity anxiety like I suffered last year and many years prior. And you will be pleased to know that I did indeed eat my weight in shrimp. The Manion shrimp bowl was plentiful for a small amount of time. Okay, let's race through Haunted Housekeeping because you guys just check the Instagram. Just look now before I even get started at the masterpieces that are the illustrations of the harrowing events I will be sharing with you today, help yourself to a little teaser of the mayhem and half frozen bodies sitting up in coffins that you will soon enjoy. If you haven't already, please if you would rate the show on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. Thank you to those of you who already have. And thank you those of you who have joined the Fan Coven or any of the other Patreon tiers. Every time one of you does, I get a notification and I say thank you directly to every single one of you. Every single time I look at your name and I send you a little magical sparkle, you guys are ensuring that the show can continue so thank you. You too can join by clicking the link in the podcast description or by going to myvictorianightmare.com I'm going to be showing folks how to prepare for the Winter Solstice Yule Festival soon. I've been gathering flowers and such for my tree. This is one of my favorite times of year and I'll be shar horrible, bone chilling Victorian true crime as well as I do every single week. My goodness. I have been flirting with ordering myself Chew Me Natural snacks for a while now, but they looked too dangerous and I was right. They are delicious. They are irresistible. They are now my favorite second cup of coffee companion. Chew Me Natural snacks are nut free, gluten free, dairy free and soy free cookies, macaroons and brownies. I ordered like five bags and I ate every single one in a week and I can't even say which one was my favorite. I had mint chocolate brownies, dark chocolate brownies, classic coconut macaroons, chocolate chip cookies. I put them all in my special containers that I keep for snacks that make me feel like I have my life together and every single time I went to the kitchen it was game over. I usually put the container away but it stayed on my countertop for the whole week. They use ingredients like honey and date paste, pumpkin seeds and unsweetened coconut. However, they are not loaded with sugar. I've been trying to cut back on my gummy bear addiction and this lower sugar addiction has replaced that addiction. I think I'm very proud of myself. Chew Me Naturals are not available on Amazon. They are a small business from Maine and they would make such a lovely gift for any of your gluten free, dairy free, nut free girlies. Like my two best friends who are all of those things, I've got their Christmas presents sorted. Use coupon code Victorian20for 20% off your order@chewmynaturals.com and get to know these wonderful products again. That's Victorian20 for 20% off@chewmenaturals.com you'll be so glad that you did okay. For you today, dear listener, I will have nearly naked women clinging to lampposts, throat slittings, self shoot women choking out Whitby burglars, Dante's hell of Ice, men chopped to pieces, a man named Chicken sentenced to hang and a serenading lover nearly drowned. But he's okay. That one turns out okay. Thank God. All courtesy of the Illustrated Police News, Law Courts and Record. Our favorite God awful, deeply upsetting, fabulously illustrated publication from the 1800s. But first, let's have our first segment with their own eyes, where I share with you the personal haunting accounts of petrified Victorians. And today we return to the secluded country house where the wind whistled outside, the sleet drifted before it, and altogether the circumstances were such as to render the warm fireside a most desirable spot. If you recall, a gentleman in the Cheshire observer shared the ghost stories told to him in this house by friends in this article called A Budget of Ghost Stories that I began to read from last week. This is the next installment, and it reads, this ghost adventure described to me happened on the borders of Cheshire to the grandfather of the narrator's cousin. He was returning home a considerable distance one winterly day and was forced to shelter from the driving rain in a road to roadside public house. The weather got worse instead of better until Mr. Lawrence decided it was impossible to continue his journey. He called the landlord and inquired whether he could stay there the night. The publican replied that he was sorry, but they really had no accommodation. The belated traveler answered that anything would do for him. He had rather sleep in a hayloft than face the storm which was blowing about. Thus pressed, the landlord said, there is a room we have which is never used. We will make you a bed in there, if you like. An old woman sometimes comes there, but she never does any harm. Ominous, Boniface spoke of the old woman not as a spirit, nor yet exactly as if she were an ordinary woman. But tired and weary, the traveler cared not for particulars and at once ordered his bed to be made ready. On retiring for the night, he remembered what had been said and left his candle burning. Placing a stout stick by his side as he lay between waking and sleeping, he became conscious that the old woman was in the room. She advanced towards him, upon which he warned her to go away. The form took no notice of the request. Again he seemed speaking to the empty wind. Raising his stick, Mr. Lawrence ejaculated, I warn you for the last time, if you do not instantly leave, I'll lay this stick about you. The antique looking woman simply drew nearer and uttered not a word. In an instant the traveler's cudgel was upon her shoulders. In another instant the ghost, for such it was, had said, seized her assailant, dragged him from his bed, and, carrying him to the staircase, flung him with all her force. The inmates of the house, hearing a noise, ran to the spot to find Mr. Lawrence at the foot of the stairs with a broken leg. The victim of the infuriated ghost stayed in the roadside inn until his leg recovered from the fracture. While there he invoked the powers of the clergy. And the ghost was laid as the ecclesiastical dignity who was called in red and red. The ghost waned smaller and smaller until at last she was laid in a bottle, corked in, we suppose, sealing, waxed over and stamped with the ecclesiastical seal. Ere the process was accomplished, the ghost revealed her identity and history. She once lived in the house and had been poisoned. Poisoned by her daughter and son in law, who were anxious to get rid of an encumbrance and inherit the property. They buried her beneath the staircase down which she had flung the over daring traveler. And surely enough, when under the direction of Mr. Lawrence, the staircase was taken up and the bones of a murdered woman were discovered. End quote. Okay, a few things here. You may recall the word publican being used there. That is not a word that's often used. It sounds like republican, but it's not. It was the owner of a public house, a tavern. Just wanted to be sure. That was clear. Also. I don't know about you, but no matter how weary or windswept from a storm I was, if a guy was like, yes, I've got a room for you, but an old woman is gonna go ahead and let herself in to torment you, I would be interested in the particulars. I love that the guy was like, say no more. I'll cross that myst this homicidal old lady bridge when I get to it. Not interested in the particulars. Bless him. Okay, won't you follow me into the seance room where we discuss the goings on in the Spiritualist society of the 1800s? Oh, I found such a gem for you in this article from the spiritualist magazine from 1869, in which a medium asks a spirit what it is like to die and what comes afterward. And it is just marvelous, it reads. On Friday evening, December 10th, at 8 o', clock, another seance was held at the Spiritual Library. Mr. Morse being the medium. 20 ladies and gentlemen were present. The medium having passed into the trance state. The first spirit did not speak, but began pulling the little finger of the left hand of Mr. Morris remorse and bending its joints to and fro in reply to a question why he did so. He said that it was a very peculiar sensation to be back on earth and in the body again. But stranger still to have a little finger, for he had lost his by accident. Before his death. A lady present asked him to tell his story, but more particularly that part of it relating to his death and his afterlife in the next world he began life as a boy baby. He grew into a boy child and last became a young man. There was nothing very good or very bad about him. He was considered the fool of the family. And he was continually in mischief, which was the cause of his losing his finger. One afternoon, just as the sun was setting, he went into a kind of sleep, half asleep and half, half awake. It seemed as though one side of the room had fallen away. And through the opening he saw a beautiful country with men, women and children walking about. Two of them came out and said, timothy, my boy, soon you'll be with us. Goodbye. And then all faded away. He had at once thought that he was feverish, or that his imagination was excited, excited, or that he was a little mad. For those two people were his father and mother, who had been dead some years. Then he felt if he were falling a very long way through the floor. And next he lost consciousness. When he came to himself, he had lost the pain in his chest and felt better in health than ever. So he thought that he had been to sleep and got over his illness. But he was down in the front parlor, whereas he went to sleep in his bed on the first floor. Folks came into the room, and he said to them, oh, I'm beautiful. I'm first rate. How are you? But they never took any notice of him, which he thought very unkind. He went upstairs, where he found his father and mother, and the latter said to him, you have got over the river none the worse for it. He replied, what do you mean? She said, you are what the world calls dead. He answered, what do you mean, I've got a body? What do you call this? She told him that his body was dead and pointed to his former house of clay lying on the bed before him. He looked at it and then at himself, and they left the house together. And he found that he could pass up through the egg with ease. And at last they reached what the spiritualists call the summer land. But in reality, the compound essence of 17 summers distilled into one, would not equal it in loveliness. They were in a place surrounded by trees and flowers. A path covered with beautiful shells led through a grove, and at the end of the path was a house where his father and mother said that they lived and that he might stay there with them as long as he liked. His father took him into a little room filled with pictures, and each picture represented the leading events of his, the son's life. And they showed him how, while upon earth he had been saved from getting into many little scrapes through the guiding spiritual influence of his unseen father and mother. One picture representing him on his sickbed was unfinished at the upper part when he cast his eyes upon it. But while he gazed, the smudge cleared away, the colors seemed to spread out, and the picture was finished. Once he could only see a little good in the universe and a great deal of evil. But now he could see good in everything because it comes from the source of all good. He said that he should like everyone, everyone to see the same things that he saw and a great deal better. He said that his name was Timothy Martin in Earth Life. He was a grocer's assistant in Hull, and he entered the spirit world about 23 years ago. End quote. Oh, I love everything about this, but I love especially how it begins with the spirit pulling on the medium's pinky because he had lost his in life. What a fun little detail. I also love the details of the half of his room appearing as this heaven, the descriptions of his photograph filling itself in. And that one description of heaven, the compound essence of 17 summers distilled into one, would not equal it in loveliness. Oh, I just love the poetry of all of this. Who can say if that medium were in fact communicating with the dead or not? But I can't deny how beautiful the poetry that came of that seance was. Okay, let's begin with the terrifying articles. This one is a bit of a crazy one, and it is called, A Crazy Woman Struggles with Policemen at Midnight on Washington Bridge, Williamsburg, Long Island. And it reads, on Sunday night, February 15, when the bewitching hour was close at hand, Officer Hearst, while patrolling his beat in the neighborhood of Washington Bridge, Williamsburg, Long island, was startled by loud cries, evidently proceeding from a female voice in company with a citizen. He rushed up to the spot from which the cries issued, and to his intense astonishment, he found a woman with nothing on but her chemise clinging desperately to a lamppost. The woman seemed crazy, and it was impossible for the officer to gain any information from her. Under the circumst, her Removal to the 4th Street Station House was deemed the most desirable course. This was no easy matter to accomplish as the wretched woman struggled desperately, taxing the strength of four stalwart officers to the utmost. After a short sojourn in the cell, the woman came to her senses and stated that she was visiting her cousin, the mate of a schooner lying at the dock, but was unable to account for her strange midnight excursion. Okay, I did my very best to find. Find who this poor woman was. And I found Her. Her name was Kate Slade, and this was the title of the article in which I found her. The Kate Slade Case. Again, a woman who trusts in the gods, believes all men are devils, and will keep her mouth hermetically sealed. A strange scene in court. Three cheers for that title alone. It's difficult to tell from the writing of these articles if she were mentally il or if this was just a young woman of 26 caught up in some strange events. Basically, a few nights before she was found clinging to the lamp post, her mother, who presumably she lived with, reported her missing. When they brought Kate to the station, she, as is stated, seemed insane. But a guy showed up, identified her and said that he was her cousin. And they released her to this guy. And she didn't have a problem. Problem with this at all. She went happily and seemed normal when he got there. The police informed her mother that she was released to a cousin, to which her mother said she doesn't have a cousin and demanded that whoever picked her up be arrested for kidnapping. It's strange to me because this woman was 26. Anyway, so they did. They arrested the guy and brought Kate back in for questioning. Like, were you kidnapped? And she didn't say a single word. They brought the guy out before the judge, and the judge asked her, did this man kidnap you? And she wouldn't say anything either way. She just refused to speak at all. So the judge was like, you can let that guy go. Which they did. And the article left off with a detail that even though Kate wasn't speaking, it was somehow clear that she hated her mother and would likely be sent to an asylum. If I were to hazard a guess, it kinda sounds like a woman who didn't want to live with her mother anymore. For whatever reason had to. She left the home and maybe met a guy, maybe also had a mental health crisis of some kind on the docks there. And things spiraled from there. I was glad that I found more details to this one. Her name again was Kate Slade. The holiday season is the most stressful time of the year. You're making plans, spending far too much money visiting family. And to help myself keep it together, I use therapy. And. And you could probably use it too. Luckily, Rula makes it easy. They are a mental healthcare provider group that takes the stress out of finding a wonderful therapist. We're all stressed, anxious, and full of trauma enough to worry about finding a therapist, which in my day was traumatic in and of itself. Things have changed thanks to Rula. Rula partners with over 15,000 therapists and psychiatrists nationwide that actually take insurance. They deliver a personalized experience of finding the best fit based on your needs, preferences and state requirements. RULA is committed to supporting you every step of the way. They help you find the perfect therapist. They help you schedule appointments and, if you like, monitor your progress. Because they partner with over 100 insurance plans, the average copay is just $15 per session. No wait lists, no waiting on hold for 20 minutes to talk to an office secretary. Appointments are often available as soon as the very next day. Thousands of people are already using RULA to get affordable, high quality therapy that's actually covered by Insurance. Visit rula.comvictorian to get started. After you sign up, you'll be asked how you heard about them. Please support my show and let them know that I sent you. That's r u l a.com Victorian. You deserve mental health care that works with you, not against your budget. Okay, this next one is out of control. It is called Murder and Self Murder Down A jealous husband shoots his rival and attempts suicide and it reads At Dick's island in the neighborhood of Rockland, Maine, on the second, a shocking tragedy occurs. The parties to this sad affair were Dennis Little, a man about 45 years of age, and a youth of 18 or 20 named White, both of them workmen employed at the Granite Works and both belonging in Quincy, Massachusetts. It is said that Little was jealous of young White and accused or suspected him of being in correspondence with his wife. Shortly before the bell rang for the men to resume work. In the afternoon, Little and White were going up the stairs of the house where the former boarded when then Little, being in advance, turned and fired at White, who fell to the foot of the staircase and immediately expired, the ball taking effect in or near the region of the heart. Little then went to his own room at the Shamrock House and locked himself in, threatening death to those who gathered outside if they should attempt to enter. He then fired four or five shots into his own body and afterward made an attempt to slit his throat. At last, becoming very weak from the loss of blood, he opened the door and gave himself up. Little's wounds are doubtless mortal. He was reported just alive when the informant who gives these particulars left the island. End quote Sweet baby Jesus. Okay, I dug into this one and get a load of this. Dennis Little, whose real name was Bernard Little, that made things a little tricky to get to the bottom of the did not die. He shot himself five times and slit his own throat and lived to tell the tale. Also, his victim's full name was Charles H. White. His first name isn't listed in that article. He stood trial. The defense tried to get him off on an insanity plea which didn't work. He was found guilty of murder in the second degree. He got a life sentence and ended up being transferred to the inside insane wing of the prison within eight years. He served the rest of his days there. He died in 1895, so he served 23 years. I just hope that if I am ever in a scenario where I need to die, like zombies are on their way. Or maybe I've already been bitten by a zombie and I have yet to turn and I don't want to kill any of my comrades or late stage capitalism comes to its inevitable conclusion. I really hope I don't have a scenario like this. You can't get cyanide pills anymore, right? That's probably just for secret agents. Still, I'll just have to see what I can work with when the time comes. Okay, let's cleanse our palettes with a plucky woman choking a guy out. This one is called A plucky woman of New Jersey. Holds a robber at bay until the arrival of her husband. And it reads, A Mrs. Lane, who resides in one of the rural districts of New Jersey, was passing through her rooms in the morning of the 23rd when she discovered, on entering her parlor, a stranger ransacking the bureau drawers. Having never been introduced to the man, she objected to his proceedings. She went boldly for the robber and gave him a severe choking, retaining her grip on his throat until the timely arrival of her husband when the rascal was handed over to the police. Brave woman, exclamation point, end quote. I have no more details here. I just love these kinds of stories. Man, she must have had the grip of Zeus. I had to ask my neighbor to help me open a jar of pickles the other day. Humiliating. I have the grip of a buttered ferret. Well done, madam. Okay, our next ones are pure frozen mayhem. These are incredible. And they all have illustrations, one of which is now one of my very favorites. It's up there with the burglar bitten by a skeleton. You will find the link to those in the show notes. This one is called Jack Frost. Winter renewed with tenfold vengeance. Intense suffering from cold on the coast and throughout the country. And it reads, after a comparatively mild winter, so mild indeed that people were nearly all the time snapping their fingers at zero in the first month of spring. Instead of the ethereal mildness spoken of by the poet, the cold came down like a Wolf on the fold, Jack Frost seemed determined to assert his power and revenge the slights that had been put upon him, and he accordingly drove Mr. Caloric from the atmosphere. The consequences were that Jack marched forth. On the night of March 4, water pipes were burst, harbors and rivers were frozen and shipping was damaged. On the exposed border of the Atlantic Ocean, several saddening instances of loss of life occurred, and many persons passed through perils that could only be paralleled in Dante's. In Dante's hell of ice below we give several incidences of this extraordinary freeze which we have illustrated by our artists in New York. At an early hour in the morning of the 5th, the police found a man in 47th street frozen to death on his wagon. The horse was moving along the street, the lines being in the dead man's hands. Monday night, March 4, a man was found at Hall's Corners, Westchester county, apparently frozen to death. The body was taken to Tarrytown and a coroner from Hastings held an inquest over it. A verdict was being rendered accordingly. The body was placed in a coffin and started for Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. As the coffin was about to be lowered into the grave, a noise proceeded from it, causing the interment to be delayed long enough to discover that the man was alive. Next night, the supposed corpse was sitting by the fire at Tarrytown Depot, reflecting upon things earthly. His name was not ascertained. The schooner Claribel of Rockland, Captain Armstrong, with a cargo of coal from New York for Boston, went ashore at 2 o' clock on the morning of the 5th, about three miles north of Highland Light, Cape Cod. The weather was intensely cold and the wind blowing a gale from the northwest. The officers and crew, seven men all told, attempted to reach the land, but only one man succeeded and he was half frozen before he gained the shore. The others, including Captain Armstrong and the mate, perished in the sea. The vessel is a total loss. In van Horn Creek, New Jersey, early in the morning, Tuesday the 5th, the body of a woman was found lying on its face frozen in the ice and probably being that blinded by the storm. On Monday night she walked off the culvert at Lafayette street. At quarter past 5 o' clock Monday afternoon, all was serene. The weather was just at the proper temperature for pedestrian exercise and the crowds moving briskly to and fro on Broadway, New York were comfortable. The female craft sailed along gaily with all their canvas set allow and aloft, and gents walked with ungloved hands and overcoats unbuttoned. Broadway was as gay as on any Afternoon for a long time time little dreaming of the impending onset of Jack Frost at half past five o'. Clock. What a change had taken place on Broadway in the last 15 minutes. The winds that had been sleeping rose to a gale and the mercury had fallen in the thermometer. 26 degrees caloric was flying before advancing zero. Then the crowds began to scud before the black passed to the nearest shelter as rapidly as possible, protecting their ears, hands and bodies as best they might from the biting frost. With the temperature below the freezing point and a fierce wind blowing, it may readily be imagined that Broadway was not only disquieted but put into great disorder. There was much dishevelment of female apparel and much running against each other and consequent swearing among the males. Miles that those who were abroad that evening will remember March. The ides of March. Remember during the remainder of the year we cannot doubt. End quote. Oh my God. So, yes, I took a look into the weather records of the day and indeed the day started at 52 degrees and within a single hour, maybe even less than that, it dropped way below freezing. It started at 52 and fell within an hour to 3 degrees Fahrenheit. That is astounding. It wasn't just the coldest day of March, it was the coldest day of the entire year. That year. I've mentioned before that simply wild fact that weather predictions were not mostly accurate for up to three days until 1980, and not until 2000 were they considered accurate for up to five days. In the 1800s. At this time they using telegraphs to communicate across North America about weather conditions and gauging what the weather could be based on the direction of the wind and what was happening above or below. Clearly, whatever happened here was far too fast for anyone to predict. Oh man. I might put the illustration of the guy waking up in his coffin on a mug. It's just so good. Okay, our next one is very sad. It is called Determined to Strangle. And it reads, a woman at East Wells, Vermont, recently attempted to commit suicide by hanging, but was cut down when partially strangled. Unable to escape watchful friends, she then attempted to starve herself to death and for 21 days took no nourishment of any kind, solid or liquid, except a little cold water at long intervals during the early part of her fast. After this long trial, she became convinced that it was useless trying to starve to death and has since consented to take a very limited amount of food, though still declaring that she will yet in some way accomplish her design of self destruction. She is rational in every other respect. End quote. I sadly couldn't find any more details here. Her name isn't mentioned, the poor thing. It is so sad to think that in these times there were literally no places that you could go to truly be treated for depression. Women with depression would be locked in asylums and likely put in solitary confinement. Sigmund Freud wouldn't come to develop psychoanalysis talk therapy until the 1890s. These articles are from the 1870s that I'm reading, so even the most rudimentary understanding of therapy as we now understand it was still a long way away. It is also possible that this is not a true story. It has a few of the hallmarks there. Lack of names is usually a sign. Regardless if there was truth to that article, I really hope that she had people who loved her and cared for her. Tis the season for all your holiday favorites like A Very Jonah's Christmas Movie and Home Alone on Disney. Did I burn down the joy? I don't think so. Then Hulu has National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. We're all in for a very big Christmas treat. All of these and more streaming this holiday season and right now. Save big with our special Black Friday offer bundle Disney plus and Hulu for just $4.99 a month for one year savings compared to current regular monthly price ends 12 one option offer for ad support at Disney Plus Hulu bundle only then $12.99 a month or then current regular monthly price 18 plus terms apply. Oh God. Okay, let's have a man chopped to pieces, shall we? This one is called A man chopped to pieces by his wife and her paramour and it reads, A brutal murder committed in Precinct Number 10 of Taos County, New Mexico some months ago has just come to light. The facts are as follows. 1. Jose Thomas Romero has been for some time past living in criminal intimacy with Juana Arguello, the wife of Catilino Baca. The latter discovered the relationship existing between his wife and Romero and reproached the former for her conduct. This determined the guilty parties to make away with the husband. On the night of 30 November last, while sleeping in his own house, he was most brutally murdered by his wife and her paramour, his head being completely cut to pieces with an axe. His body was then laid in an outhouse and the next morning his wife reported that before daybreak he had started for Huerfano, thus accounting for his absence. A few days after the body of the murdered man was taken from the outhouse by his murderer, Amador Romero, his younger brother, and Juan Lorenzo Abila, and carried into the woods where they expected it would be devoured by wild beasts, the head, feet and hands being first cut off and buried, so that if the body was found, identification would be impossible. Now for the discovery. On the morning of the 18th of January last, nearly three months after the murder, Juan Miera and Vincenze Mascarenas were traveling from Rio del Pueblo to Penasco. When their attention was attracted to an oreo near the road by the large number of ravens collected there. Riding up to the spot, they were shocked to find the partial remains of a human body. On arriving at Penasco, they informed the authorities of their discovery. Suspicion had attracted for some time to the woman, Juana Arguello, on account of the mysterious disappearance of her husband. And she was at once arrested and made a full confession implicating all the parties named as principal and accessories. She is now confined in the county jail at Taos. And it is expected that the other parties will be arrested at an early day, as they are well known and cannot long remain in concealment. End quote. My apologies for how I pronounced all of those people's names. Heavens. Okay. Sadly, the trail went cold after this article. I couldn't find any more information about whether or not anyone else was actually caught. That doesn't mean it didn't happen, though. There were so many murders and crimes in this area of New Mexico in the 1870s, and court records were not diligently taken. They may have found the folks tried them and hanged them, which was the most common form of capital punishment. And no records exist of the outcome. But again, there's no way to tell. The trail stops there. Incidentally, in this part of New Mexico, another form of punishment used at this time, apart from prison or execution, was exile or banishment. People who committed crimes like slander, assault, petty theft, disturbing the peace or adultery. Tree could be punished by being set atop a horse. And being sent down that old town road to ride till they couldn't ride no more. Okay, our next one is only two sentences that I just knew would have more to the story if I ferreted it out with my buttery ferret hands. This one is called John Devon, the California Chicken. Sentenced to be hanged. Hanged, and it reads. A dispatch from San Francisco March 6 says that Johnny Devon, alias the Chicken, convicted of the murder of August Camp, has been sentenced to be hanged on the 26th of April. End quote. That's all there is to that story. Well, to that article, here's what I found when I dug into this. John Devine, not Devin, another classic example of the illustrated policeman news, getting a name wrong, was born in Waterford, Ireland, in 1840. He came to San Francisco in the early 1860s and quickly became involved in a particular kind of crime called waterfront crimping, otherwise known as shanghaiing. A crimp was a boarding housekeeper who would hire folks like Mr. Devine to drug knockout or deceive men staying in their boarding houses. And these poor guys would wake up on merchant ships, sometimes bound for Shanghai, a common trade route where they would be forced to work on the ships if they wanted to get off of them at some point, if they knew it was good for them. In other words, the crimp would collect cash from the owners of the ships for this forced labor. It was very difficult to find willful sailors in this time. It was a incredibly dangerous, awful work. And if you survived the voyage from America to, say, Shanghai, you were in Shanghai now and would have to do it all over again and hopefully survive again on your way back if there was even a ship to send you back. Sounds like a nightmare. So this John the Chicken Divine was devoting his services to this horrible trade. He was what they called a rough cage in that day. He had 79 arrests by 1871 and almost completely lost his hand in some kind of altercation. In 1868, Mr. August Camp was looking for work along John's route, and rather than shanghai him, he noticed that he had some cash. He tricked him into thinking that he could get him a job nearby, and he said, hey, can you loan me 20 bucks? In the meantime, meet me tomorrow at the docks and I'll make sure you've got a job. He gave him 20 bucks, and the next day, John wasn't where he said he was supposed to be. And August quickly realized that he'd been duped. But he saw John randomly on the docks later that day and demanded his money back. John pretended that he didn't know what he was talking about, but then lured him to a secluded spot and shot him behind the right ear. Camp wasn't dead, though he was able to make it to a saloon to get help. He identified John Devine to the police and he was arrested boarding a steamship. Sadly, Mr. Camp did not survive much longer. Divine was tried and found guilty of first degree murder and executed two years to the day that he shot poor Mr. Camp on May 13, 1873. His last words were, my friends, I will speak a few words. I am now going to leave you I have confessed to a crime of which I am not guilty. I was there when the deed was committed. I hope to meet you all in heaven, Heaven, where I hope to meet my mother. I also tried to find the origin of why he was called the chicken. I found a source that does not list its source that said that he was called that because he was also a pugilist. That's a bare knuckle boxer and a fight manager said he fought with the ferocity of a chicken and called him Shanghai Chicken due to his other profession confession. But again, I don't have the source of the source that said that. I do kind of love it though. Okay, our final article will make you smile and luckily it has an illustration to go with it. It is called A Serenading Lover Comes to Grief in Lafayette, Indiana and it reads, A few nights since, a fond lover in Lafayette, Indiana seated himself on a barrel turned on its side while serenading his heart mistress. In his ecstasy, he rolled the barrel over, slammed his guitar against a shutter in his efforts to regain his balance, and disappeared into the cistern. The bubbling cry of the strong swimmer in his agony brought out the entire family, including the Bulldog in various brief and picturesque costumes ranging all the way from an elaborate robe de nuit and curl papers worn by the innocent ca the innocent cause of it all, to a simple yet serviceable collar ornamented with spikes worn by the bulldog. P.S. he was fished out. End quote. Oh, thank God for that final note. I love all of the details here. Imagine if they left the poor guy there. This would have been a very different kind of story. I am delighted with the outcome. If you enjoyed this podcast and would like to hear more, please, please please rate the show on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. Share it with your spooky friends and family. Let me know what you think of it in the comments and if you would like to listen ad free, join the Patreon. Be kind to yourselves and I will see you in your nightmares.