I’m still waiting for a relic card of Anson.  The few cut signatures he does have sell well into the thousands when they surface.

The recently published list of the Global 100 Most Sustainable Corporations, as derived by Innovest, is based on a comprehensive analysis of organisations on four factors; Strategic Governance, Human Capital, Environment and Stakeholder (Not Shareholder) Capital. The Forbes article has been quick to point out that three most admired organisations as of today, Google, Apple and Microsoft, have not featured on the risk because of reasons very particular to them. The way I see it, the factor that stands true for all three of them is that they were all Entrepreneurial ventures to begin with, with clear cut leaders and focus areas. The fact that none of the entrepreneurs behind these three will survive a 100 years, at least two won’t even last another 25 years, is a very important factor. The one attribute common, as per my understanding, to the organisations that do feature on the list is that a majority of them don’t have clear cut leaders on which are the face of the organisation, as is the case with both Apple and Microsoft, are not there. They don’t actually have a face of the organisation, but the organisation itself is a brand in itself, whether through its products/services, logos or size. This is possibly why the authors of the article have stuck to companies without a person representative of their brand. I personally could not think of one person whom I could relate to any of these corporations, which is probably why they are actually sustainable since the responsibility of the organisations representation lays with the organisation itself, and not just with the Entrepreneur himself.

Michelin, the world’s second largest tyre maker, is an Entrepreneurial venture started by André and Edouard Michelin in 1888 to address a gap in the market. It was started when a cyclist with a busted pneumatic tyre approached the brothers, who ran a rubber factory at the time, to fix it. Upon their analysis of the tyre and the fact that it was glued to the rim of the bicycle, they identified a gap in the market in the form of a ‘removable pneumatic tyre’ which didn’t need to be glued to the rim to function properly and could be replaced faster than the conventional pneumatic tyres which took a couple of hours to dry. The brothers filed a patent for the same in 1891.Thereon, the organisation has made a large number of innovations, from improving the design of the pneumatic tyre to the Radial tyre in 1941 to the ActiveWheel system which has motors built into the wheel, and is to be launched in 2012. Michelin is the creator of, arguably the most recognized trademarks in the world, The Michelin Man or Bibendum, which was introduced in 1898 and represents Michelin in over 150 countries. Bibendum is essentially a man made out of numerous stacks of tyres and is used by the organisation in various promotional related activities across the world, and is shown doing a variety of activities in Michelins advertisements.

Innovation then runs in the blood of Michelin. This, for me, is the most prominent feature of an entrepreneurial venture as it is the factor that distinguishes the entrepreneur from the businessman. An Entrepreneur innovates existing products/services and creates one that is more functional or utilitarian, which is exactly what the Michelin brothers established. With tweaks in the design of the pneumatic tyre, they managed to have it grab the rim of the wheel without actually gluing the tyre which essentially allowed the repairing of tyres to become a much quicker and easier job. This transformed the entire industry to develop into what we know it as now. Had this innovation not been thought of, we’d be carrying glue in the back of our vehicles along with the spare tyre. To prove the usability of their version of the pneumatic tyre, the brothers actually scattered nails on the road during a cycle race and depicted to the people there the superiority of their tyre over the conventional tyres. The organisation then went on to focusing on developing tyres for Cars and eventually partnered with Citroën to develop the Radial type tyre.

Michelin, as an organisation, has grown exponentially in the past, especially with the grown in the global auto sector post-world war 2, which was followed by two decades worth of stagnancy, and then growth again beginning the late 1980’s, during which Michelin picked up OEM, or Original Equipment Manufacturer, contracts with General Motors, Volkswagen and Volvo to name a few. The evolution of Michelin as a company was stupendously fast during the first five decades of its existence, mostly because the tyre market was still maturing, along with the auto industry. Off late, especially in the last three decades, Michelins growth has primarily been focussed on motorsports, primarily Le Mans and A1 GP. The primary reason for this focus, as Michelin puts it, is to help develop better tyres for street cars and motorbikes alike. This has proved to be of some substance with Michelin coming up with continual augmentations being made to tyres already being produced. With a decade of research and few tweaks, Michelin has managed to improve its Energy Saver tyres, which reduce fuel consumption by 0.2 litres per 100 Kilometres, and consequently reduce CO2 emissions by up to 4 grams per kilometre. Another innovation which the company is working on is the ‘Tweel’. The Tweel is a replacement for the very invention that took Michelin from Zero to Hero, the Radial tyre. The Tweel is made out of rubber and doesn’t need any air; instead the spokes of the wheel twist and bend as opposed to staying fixed solid. This not only allows for a more comfortable ride as the surface area of the tyre and the wheel are incorporated, but also allows for more flexibility and of course, punctures will be history once this tyre is put into use. These are just few of the many innovations Michelin is working on, which is why it features on the Forbes 100 list of companies that will survive a 100 years. Another reason why Michelin features on the Forbes 100 list is probably that they’re not afraid to admit failure and pull out of a non-profitable or unviable business. They did so with both Formula 1 and MotoGP because they understood that their products weren’t competent enough to go head to head with the master of all circuit racing tyres, Bridgestone. They do, however, still supply tyres to A1 GP and a host of other races where they know they have the cost advantage. This also is conceivably Michelins Achilles heel. Simply because they could not match the functional superiority of Bridgestone, they packed their bags and bid adieu as opposed to developing their product to meet the rigorous requirements of the pinnacle motorsport divisions. 

Michelins success, at least the way I see it, can be attributed to innovation, and by innovation, I refer specifically to those which were required by the market. The fact that Michelin have been able to sustain their spot in the global tyre market, even when competitors with differentiated, and sometimes superior, products have come in to snatch away segments of the market, is a symbol of their unwavering spirit to succeed, which has primarily been done through a deep, clear understanding of market trends and providing what actually mattered, as opposed to anything out of the sandbox. Whether it’s the Energy Saver Tyres, or the Tweel or the ActiveWheel, they are all innovations which have purely been derived out of the need of the market, and not as an attempt to display technological or operational superiority. Michelin, hence, can, and will, survive over a hundred years, because they don’t just change the rules of the game, they change the entire game.

References:

http://www.michelin.com

http://www.michelinman.com

http://www.michelin-passion.com/passion/home/en/home.jsp?lang=EN

http://www.forbes.com/2009/01/28/long-lived-companies-leadership_0128_sustainability.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michelin

Image from www.tn.gov

The Two Volunteers.

I found them there together,
With roses sweet between,
Near by a murmuring river,
Above them heaven’s sheen.
I heard the winds of summer
Sing low a sweet refrain
Above the youth from Georgia,
Above the lad from Maine.

One left his tall palmettos,
The other left his pines,
To stand with gallant thousands
Amid the battle lines.
But now in peace they slumber
In sunshine and in rain;
One northward came from Georgia,
One southward marched from Maine.

No more the battle bugles
Will tell them they were foes,
No more the thunderous cannon
Shall break their deep repose.
Perhaps for them in sorrow,
Beyond the sunny plain,
A mother waits in Georgia,
A sister weeps in Maine.

Perhaps two old-time sweethearts
Still listen for the tread
Of those two youthful gallants
Who sleep among the dead.
I’ve not the heart to tell them
Where camp, in sun and rain,
The boy who came from Georgia,
The boy who marched from Maine.

I heard the murmuring river,
I saw its silvered waves,
I blessed the rich, red clover
That grew upon their graves,
And then I asked the angels
Who watch on heaven’s plain
To guard the boy from Georgia,
To guard the lad from Maine.

No longer are they foemen,
No more they hear the pines
Their song at midnight singing
Between the battle lines.
The hot drums of secession
Will never beat again
To thrill the sons of Georgia,
To rouse the sons of Maine.

I left them to their slumbers –
The blue coat and the gray;
Beside the singing river
They wait the Judgment Day.
Thank God, the starry banner
Beloved on hill and plain,
Waves o’er the boy from Georgia,
And o’er the boy from Maine!

–T.C. HARBAUGH.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Feb 14, 1891

The Trooper’s Return.
(A Scotch-American Ballad.)

When the gloaming was veiling the wooded hills;
And the gold of the summer’s sun
Was passing away in the track of the day,
And the pale stars, one by one,
Were peering out from the saffron haze
That softens the evening calm,
And the last sweet note from the wild bird’s throat,
Had passed like a woodland psalm.
A mother stood with her bairnies three,
By the lane where the road sweeps down,
Where the traveler sees through the apple trees
The spires of the far off town.

“Now, woe is me,” said the sad, lone wife,
“For the weary hours we stan’,
Wi’ sighs and wi’ fears and blindin’ tears,
A waitin’ my dear gude-mon.
Wounded, a prisoner, at last exchanged;
Three weeks and a day hae gane;
But still in tears and a prey to fears,
We wait by the lonely lane.”
While she spoke, from the shaded roadside near,
A tall, lean figure came;
And the red blood shot through her pulses hot
And her veins, like living flame.

O, she thought she saw in the wave of his hand,
A nameless, remembered art
That gave a charm to a strong young arm
When love first came to her heart.
Alas, for the wife wi’ bairnies three!
She met in the traveler lone
No answering trace in his wasted face
Of the long-sought, hoped-for one.
But her heart gushed out in a tender glance,
As she saw in the warrior worn,
A manly form that the battle storm
Had broken and maimed and torn.

“Now, where are ye limpin’ so late good man?
You seem to be unco lame.”
“Good dame,” quo’ he, with a tear in his e’e,
“I’m limping toward my hame.
I’m needing rest and a kindly hand,
As your ain fair een can see;
I’ve been in the fight to protect the right;
The cause o’ the brave and free.
There’s an ugly scar on this leg that’s left,
That mak’s me so feeble seem;
The ither was lost when our squadrons crossed
The ford of a bloody stream.

“‘Twas burning with shame, each drew his rein,
And turning his chargers fleet,
Our general’s words and our good broad swords
Tore victory from defeat.”
She heard in the ring of his manly voice
The rich loved tones of yore.
And the wasted face and the limping pace
Were seen by the wife no more;
To the wreck of the trooper that proudly stood
In the eye of the evening wan,
Her heart gushed out in a sobbing shout,
“Dear God! It’s my ain gude-mon!”

And the wounded and torn of a hundred fights
Was clasped to her woman’s breast;
Forgot were his scars ‘neath the burning stars,
His pains and his needed rest.
His eldest born took his battered sword;
Wee Willie his sash unbound;
While Maud in h’s arms, with her infant charms,
Sat light on an unhealed wound.
He struck from the road with a bounding heart,
Forgetting his gashed, still knee;
Up the sweet lane to his home again,
With his wife and his bairnies three.

The Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 8, 1888

We Stood For Freedom

We stood for freedom just like you
And loved the flag you cherish too

Our uniforms felt great to wear
You know the feel, and how you care

In step we marched, the cadence way
The same is true with you today

Oh how we tried to do our best
As you do now, from test to test

How young we were and proud to be
Defenders of true liberty

So many thoughts bind soldiers well
The facts may change, not how we jell

Each soldier past, and you now here
Do share what will not disappear

One thought now comes, straight from my heart
For soldiers home, who’ve done their part

I’m honored to have served with you
May Godly peace, help get you through

And now I’ll end with a request
Do ponder this, while home at rest

America, respect our day
Each veteran, helped freedom stay

Written for Veteran’s Day 2002
Roger J. Robicheau

*****

To all our Veterans, THANK YOU!

‘The Ninth of November 1888′ by William Logsdail, which depicts the Lord Mayor’s procession through the streets of London. Despite the glitz and splendour of the procession’s regalia, there is something very gloomy and menacing about this painting with the dark, wet streets, the sombre clothes of the crowd and the foreboding skies above.

It’s almost as though the artist wanted to evoke the fact that only a few miles away, in a squalid, dank hovel in Whitechapel, the body of Mary Jane Kelly, the most famous and final canonical victim of Jack the Ripper had just been discovered in a state of revolting, pitiful mutilation on her bed. While looking at the painting, you can almost sense the panicked, shocked whisper running through the ragged crowd – ‘There’s been another one in Spitalfields. A young Irish girl. She was left in pieces this time…’ while all the while the drums beat out a solemn, funereal rhythm as the Lord Mayor’s procession passes slowly by.

Helensburgh Rail Tunnel 1st

“What a peculiar place to put a tunnel I thought when I was young upon first discovering this tunnels existence”. That thought I had was from around the early-mid 80’s, and I genuinely didn’t want to go anywhere near it as it looked very scary. Curiosity got the better of me however. The southern approach was all boarded up with corroded and tarnished corrugated iron. My friend told me that they used to grow mushrooms in there. Now that I was familiar with… my uncle used to work the Otford Tunnel, growing mushrooms down there. But this place looked abandoned and neglected… ghost townish even.

The Helensburgh Tunnel 1st is located at the northern end of the 1st Helensburgh Rail Station. It is an elliptical-shaped tunnel on a single track alignment measuring 80m in length with a distinct curvature.

Opened: 3rd October 1888

Closed: 30th May 1915

Like all six disused tunnels in the area, this tunnel had a very short life of 27 years of allowing trains to pass through her. After the deviation went through to alleviate track congestion, (from the trains) and lung congestion of the passengers*, the old single alignment slowly faded away as a train line. *(Asphyxiation of the passengers while trains either stalled or hauled slowly through the dark tunnels was a big problem on the 1 in 40 grade).

My friend and I walked up to the tunnel entrance on the southern side, dodging waist high grass storks and small shrubbery. We reached the wretchedly rusted corrugated iron and started pulling the edge of a sheet back allowing rays of sunshine to penetrate the darkness. As we peered in, I remember seeing partly decomposed foam boxes all broken into hundreds of pieces scattered about the tunnel floor. That was enough for me and I high-tailed it out of there.

Today it has been cleared and the tunnels corrugated iron enclaves have been removed and replaced with thick black steel post fencing and gates wide open. The facades on both approaches are in reasonable condition with several bricks missing around the lower arch-edges on both sides. (I guess that would have been from careless construction of barriers to seal off the tunnel during the mushroom farming years).

Unfortunately the local youth see no value in the tunnel other than a place to discard rubbish and paint graffiti. Other than those defilements, the tunnel is in exceptional condition for its age. Inside are still remnants of the  mushroom farmers presence by way of electrical wiring hubs and even a suspended light. No torch needed for this tunnel and anyone could walk it with little effort. Walking the rest of the alignment up to the Cawley Tunnel is a different story however. That’s for another time.

Google Map link (right under where ‘The Ridge’ ends): http://maps.google.com.au/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Helensburgh+NSW&sll=-25.335448,135.745076&sspn=52.4378,114.169922&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Helensburgh+NSW&ll=-34.176603,150.992092&spn=0.003013,0.006968&t=h&z=18

http://www.nswrail.net/locations/show.php?name=NSW:Helensburgh+Tunnel+%281st%29

Looming like an uncomfortably angular white wedding cake over the ramshackle stained Victorian buildings that surround it, Christ Church in Spitalfields looks utterly incongruous.

It is hard to describe the unsettling atmosphere that surrounds it produced partially by its location at the very heart of the Ripper murders of 1888 but also by the oddly unbalanced appearance when you peer up at it.

Fans of Peter Ackroyd will of course remember it from his masterpiece (in my opinion) Hawksmoor, in which history is subverted and a modern day policeman Nicholas Hawksmoor is on the trail of a series of murders with links to the works of the seventeent century architect Nicholas Dyer,who is a fictional reworking of the real architect of Christ Church, Nicholas Hawksmoor. Still with me? It’s as confusing as hell but well worth a read.

Hawksmoor is the architect of six London churches, dubbed by me ‘The Creepy Churches’ because they all share the same overly orderly approach to geometric design and the same brooding sense of menace. They were commissioned in 1711 as part of the Act of Parliament ‘Commission for Building Fifty New Churches’, of which only twelve churches in total were ever fully realised.

The Commission was quite forward thinking – it was an attempt to replace the churches lost in the Great Fire and also to provide a spiritual focus for the several new communities that were springing up around the historic city as it expanded and consumed the surrounding villages and towns. Christ Church was designed to provide a church for the huge Huguenot (French protestants that had been hounded out of their own country) community that had settled in the Whitechapel area and made it a centre for the production of the Spitalfields Silk so beloved on the continent.

Christ Church was built between 1714 and 1724 and its startling plainess and austerity must have come as a huge cultural shock to a generation who were more used to the Baroque excesses that were so prevalent in contemporary architecture, although it also marks a turning point in taste as the Baroque gave way to the Palladian influenced style of buildings like Marble Hill House in Twickenham.

From Hell fans will of course recognise it as the church that looms forbidding and temple like over the churning, debauched streets of 1888 Whitechapel with the Ten Bells next door, tramps and whores sleeping in the once orderly churchyard and a warren of foul alleyways running around it.

Nowadays, it has had the benefit of a sympathetic restoration programme and is now open again for worship and as a venue for hire. The Ten Bells is still next door but is now an overly noisy, faintly bohemian East End boozer with a bad reputation, just like so many others. The alleyways are no longer frightening but instead are a useful means of getting to the curry heaven that is Brick Lane that lies behind.

Ah, I miss Whitechapel. My family come from the East End of London – my great grandfather was a manager at Truman’s on Brick Lane and took part in the Battle of Cable Street in October 1936 and my grandmother was always very proud of the fact that she and the rest of her family had been born within the all important range of the Bow bells (like most East End families we undoubtedly come from hot headed immigrant stock, either Irish or Italian) and I feel like on many levels it is my spiritual home. Maybe one day I will get to move back again but in the meantime I can plan more gin fuelled, cackling nights out on Commercial Street.

Image from http://freepages.history.rootsweb.ancestry.com/

MR. FRANK HARALSON ARRESTED

And Mr. Fry Don’t Wish to be Held Accountable for It.

Mr. Frank L. Haralson the state librarian, was arrested yesterday morning by Patrolmen Thompson and Nolan, and carried to the station house.

The charge entered up the state docket is larceny.

The whole thing seems to have been a blunder, and one of those blunders for which nobody is particularly anxious to be held accountable.

The following statement explains the affair:

The first is that of Mr. Wil Roberts, a son of Mr. W.J. Roberts, the Peachtree street grocer. He says:

“Saturday afternoon last Colonel Frank L. Haralson called at my father’s store, on Peach tree street for some goods. While he was standing in the door with his back to the street, talking to me and laughing, Mr. Abe Fry slapped him on the back and said:

“Frank, I want that colt you won, and I will give you a sixty five dollar watch — gold watch — for him, and you can select it from my show cases.”

“Colonel Haralson said:

“Well, this is a trade is it?

“Mr. Fry said it was and for him to call Monday morning and select his watch.

“Colonel Haralson said:

“I will call Monday morning.

“Mr. Fry went down Peachtree street and Colonel Haralson took his articles and went towards his home.’

Mr. Haralson read this statement last night and says it is a fair statement. He said further:

‘Fry just wanted to back out of the trade I believe I beat him on his own proposition and he just intended to jew out of it. I thought the best way to make him keep his word was to take the watch. But this thing is an outrage. I was arrested in my office for larceny — just think of that. Its a disgrace that such a thing should happen in Atlanta.’

The following is Mr. Abe Fry’s statement:

‘I met Mr. Frank Haralson last Saturday afternoon and he told me that he had a fine colt which he wished to sell. I said, ‘Come around to my store some time and perhaps I’ll trade you a watch for him.’ Yesterday about three o’clock Mr. Haralson called at my store. I was engaged in talking to a friend in a buggy in front of the store. Mr. Haralson went in the store and after looking at the watches in the show case, asked Fritz Allbright, my clerk, to let him look at one. Fritz handed him the watch, when he said, “This suits me I’ll take it –’ and with the watch he walked out of the store. Fritz tried in vain to get the watch away from him, but he refused to give it up, Fritz told me what had happened, when I said to him “I will hold you responsible if you don’t get that watch.’

Fritz then went before Justice Tanner and swore out a possessory warrant for the watch. I am at a loss to see what right Mr. Haralson had to come in my store and take my property in that manner. We certainly had made no trade. How could I trade with him when I was talking to my friend in the buggy while he was getting the watch from my clerk?”

Judge Tanner said yesterday afternoon:

“This clerk of Abe Fry’s came to my office and said that Mr. Frank Haralson had taken a watch from the store. I made him explain what he meant, and after he did so refused to issue the warrant. The clerk went off and came back presently, insisting upon his request for a warrant. I didn’t want to make myself ridiculous and flatly refused to give him the warrant, explaining to him that his only course was to take out a possessory warrant. He did so.”

The possessory warrant will probably be tried today before Judge Tanner. Mr. Tom Corrigan, acting as the clerk’s attorney, advised this course, and the property was given up at the station house, though against the urgent remonstrances of Mr. Haralson.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 3, 1888

Image from http://grandeleather.com

A RED COWHIDE

Will be Produced in Police Court This Morning.

Colonel Frank Haralson Assaults Mr. Abe Fry With a Cowhide — Mr. Fry Says “Never Touched Me.”

The Hon. Frank Haralson, state librarian, and Abe Fry, pawn shop man and jeweler in the National hotel building on Peachtree street, will appear in police court this morning. The one charged with disorderly conduct and quarreling and the other with using profane language in the station house.

A small cowhide will put in an appearance too.

Early yesterday morning Colonel Haralson was seen walking restlessly up and down Peachtree street between the railroad and Decatur street. Two or three times he passed through the block apparently buried in study so deep that he took no notice of friends who passed him. None of the colonel’s friends, however, who saw him imagined that he was brooding over his arrest Monday, and was contemplating a revenge.

But such was the case.

About 9 o’clock the colonel entered a store on the block, and in a few minutes came out, carrying in his hand a bright silver-mounted pistol. The gentleman was cool, and attracted no particular attention as he passed along to Fry’s pawn shop and jewelry store, in front of which he stopped. For a second he gazed into the store, and then with a firm, slow step walked into the door. Mr. Fry was standing behind the counter, talking to a young gentleman on the outside, and approaching them, the colonel said:

“Abe Fry, you have told a d–n dirty lie on me, and I have come for my revenge.”

As he spoke Colonel Haralson shoved his left hand under the waist band of his breeches and jerking out an ordinary red cowhide raised it above his head. The raw hide cut through the air with a whistling sound and came down toward Mr. Fry, but whether it struck the jeweler or not only Judge Anderson will be able to decide after he has heard the testimony this morning. However, the cowhide went up a second time and a second time it came down, but its second descent is just as uncertain as the first, likewise the third.

The scene was not accompanied by any boisterous or disorderly conduct and was over with before any one knew it. Colonel Haralson walked out of Mr. Fry’s and re-entering the store where he secured the pistol left it. He then appeared upon the street again and seeing Patrolman Anderson on Alabama street walked across the railroad and up to him, saying:

“I have cow hided Abe Fry and want to give myself up.”

The patrolman then heard Colonel Haralson’s story through, and deciding to make a case against him, asked him to go to police head quarters. The colonel readily consented to do so. At the city prison Colonel Haralson reported to Chief Connolly what he had said to Patrolman Anderson. The chief instructed the station house keeper, Mr. Joyner, to make a case against Colonel Haralson, charging him with disorderly conduct and quarreling, and at the same time requested Mr. Fry, who came in just then, to appear as a witness against him. During the conversation Colonel Haralson was standing on one side of the big counter in the office and Mr. Fry on the other side. Both men were anxious to talk and both talked at the same time, but Mr. Fry’s hardest talk came immediately after Colonel Haralson informed the chief that he had cowhided Mr. Fry.

“That is a lie,” yelled Mr. Fry.

Chief Connolly requested the jeweler to remain quiet, but his blood was up to a boiling pitch and in the severest and profanest language he abused the state librarian. The language used was a violation of a city ordinance, and Chief Connolly turned to the stationhouse keeper, saying:

“Mr. Joyner, make a case against Mr. Fry for using profane language in the station-house.”

The case was booked and Mr. Fry made a bond for his appearance in police court — just like the bond Colonel Haralson made. After the bonds were made the two gentlemen walked away, and all along the street they were asked about he affair.

But their answer was very unlike.

To all who asked him about it, Mr. Haralson said:

“Yes, I cowhided him, and I cowhided him well. I hit him three times, and here is the cowhide.”

The cowhide was concealed down the librarian’s left breeches leg, and only the butt end was drawn out.

To all who asked Mr. Fry about it, he answered:

“No, he did not cowhide me. The coward came into my store and putting a cocked pistol in my face struck over the counter at me with a cowhide but he didn’t strike me.”

The two stories, so unlike, soon became general talk, and everybody wanted to know which one to believe. Mr. Fry was at his store when called upon. He was standing in the door looking quietly up and down the street. He was in his shirt sleeves, and a half smoked cigar was between his lips. As he spied a reporter approaching he removed the cigar, saying:

“I know what you are going to ask me. You are going to ask me if Frank Haralson hit me with a cowhide.”

“You have just saved me the trouble.”

“Well he didn’t. He says he did, but he’s a d–m liar.”

“He says he struck you three times.”

“Well, he is a liar, and here is a young man who saw it all.”

Just then a young gentleman attired in a light-colored spring suit came up. The young gentleman was D.M. Davidson, a grocer at 110 Peachtree, and as he was near Mr. Fry that gentleman said:

“Here, Mr. Davidson, wasn’t you in here when Frank Haralson came in?”

“Yes,” answered the gentleman calmly.

“Now, he says he hit me with that cowhide. Did he do it? Didn’t he just strike at me over the counter?”

“Yes.”

“You see, he came in here with a pistol in one hand, and a cowhide in the other, and struck at me across the counter, and he didn’t hit me. Why the cowhide wasn’t long enough. When he struck he had a pistol in my face and I wheeled around and picked up an ink bottle to throw at him. See, here is the ink on my hand. Ain’t that so?” he concluded, turning to Mr. Davidson.

“It all transpired so quick,” answered Mr. Davidson, “that I can hardly tell what did take place.”

“Well, you know he did not hit me, don’t you?”

“I don’t think he did,” answered the gentleman.

“Then when I’d move he would push the pistol in my face. He is a dirty coward and I can whip him, and told him so down at the stationhouse. Why he just wants to bulldoze me like he did, out of that watch yesterday, but the coward can’t do that. He never touched me.”

Colonel Haralson was standing near the New Era saloon talking to Captain Ed Cox.

The raw hide was pulled from its hiding place, as the gentleman remarked:

“Yes I did cowhide the d–n Jew and here is the cowhide and I’ll have it in court in the morning.”

“But he says you never touched him.”

“He’s a liar and I’ll go back and do it over.”

“No, you won’t,” said Captain Cox, “leave him alone.”

“You see,” said the colonel “I said yesterday that I would avenge the insult he heaped upon me in less than twenty-four hours and I have done it.”

“And you are satisfied?”

“Thoroughly. I gave him three good blows.”

“But the young man who was in there says you didn’t.”

“That young man ran out. You see I got a pistol and walked with it in my hand into the store and struck him once with the cowhide. He turned to get a pistol and I raised mine, saying:

“Just stop where you are.”

“Then I put the pistol close to him and struck him twice more and walked out.”

“And you think you hit him?”

“If Fry will look at his back he will find where I put three of them on him, and I will show him the cowhide in court in the morning and dare him to show his back.”

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 4, 1888

John B. Gordon - 1865 (Image from www.old-picture.com)

CAPITOL AND CUSTOMHOUSE

The News in the Various Departments Yesterday.

GOVERNOR GORDON’S ORDER suspending Mr. Frank Haralson, state librarian, was the sensation at the capitol yesterday. It will be found written up in detail in this issue.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 7, 1888

THE STATE LIBRARIAN

Governor Gordon Issues an Order Suspending Mr. Haralson.

The Library Placed in Charge of Captain John Milledge — The Law Authorizing the Order.

Yesterday Governor Gordon issued an order suspending Mr. Frank L. Haralson from the office of state librarian.

This action on the part of the governor was not a surprise to the public.
Thursday afternoon, a lively rumor was current on the streets, that Governor Gordon had requested the resignation of Mr. Haralson and that that gentleman had declined to accede to the request. A reporter of THE CONSTITUTION interviewed Governor Gordon on the subject Thursday afternoon, when he merely stated that Mr. Haralson had not declined to resign, but was considering the subject.

The following correspondence, which explains itself, was made public yesterday:

EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT, April 5th, 1888 — Mr. Frank Haralson, State Librarian — Dear Sir: I regret that a sense of public duty compels me to request your resignation of the off of state librarian. I shall hope to receive it by 12 m. tomorrow (Friday).

Very respectfully, J.B. GORDON.

Thursday night Mr. Haralson held a consultation with a number of his friends at the Kimball house which was strictly private, and on yesterday morning sent the following reply to the governor’s request:

STATE LIBRARY, April 6. — Dear Governor: Your letter of the 5th instant, has been received and after careful consideration I would ask that you state in writing the reason for your action; and in the meantime withdraw your request, that I may be heard in reply.

Yours very respectfully,
FRANK L. HARALSON, Librarian.

Then Governor Gordon made immediate response:

EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT, April 6th, 1888 — Mr. Frank Haralson, Librarian — Dear Sir: My sense of duty will not permit a withdrawal of my request for your resignation, nor do I consider that a statement of my reasons for such request would be of service to you, or is demanded by the circumstances. I repeat my request for your resignation, and if I do not receive it by 1 p.m. today, I shall place someone in charge of the library.

Respectfully,
J.B. GORDON.

To this last communication, Mr. Haralson did not reply.

Shortly after one o’clock the following executive order was recorded:

EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT, April 6, 1888 — Frequent complaints having been received at this department that Frank L. Haralson, state librarian, has been neglecting the duties of his office for months past, and the complaints having been recently renewed and enlarged, and having satisfied myself that there is ample cause for them, it is therefore, in the discharge of my duty under the statue, ordered.

That John Milledge and W.R. Rankin, Jr., both of the county of Fulton, he or they, are hereby appointed as agents of the state to examine into and report the condition of the state library to the executive department.

It is further ordered that the said Frank L. Haralson be, and he is hereby suspended from the said office until further order from this department, and that in the meantime the official duties of librarian be discharged by the said John Milledge.

J.B. GORDON, Governor.
By order of the Governor
J.W. WARREN, Secretary Executive Department.

The sections of the code upon which the above order is based are 74 and 122.

Section 74 says, in relation to the powers of the governor:

“He has power to engage the services of any competent person for the discharge of any duty required by the laws, and essential to the interests of the state, or necessary, in an emergency, to preserve the property or funds of the state.”

Section 122 says:

The office of the state librarian is under the general supervision of the governor who may at any time appoint a competent person to examine into and report its condition to him.

As section 114 of the code confers upon the governor power to suspend the state treasurer or comptroller general, for neglect of duty, upon trustworthy information, it is tolerably clear that he has power to suspend the state librarian, a much smaller functionary.

Captain Milledge took charge of the state library yesterday afternoon. What further order Governor Gordon will issue remains to be seen.

Mr. Haralson was approached by a CONSTITUTION man yesterday afternoon, but declined to be interviewed. What Mr. Haralson will do remains to be seen. He received a dispatch from a prominent Georgia lawyer yesterday afternoon to this effect: “Stand firm, act rightly.”

The indications are that Mr. Haralson contemplates making a fight for re-installment — but upon what particular time has not yet developed. The probability is that Mr. Haralson will contend that under the act of 1881 the governor has not the power to remove him. Section 72 of the code of 1882 authorizes the governor to remove the state librarian at his pleasure.

An astute legal gentleman, said yesterday:

“What do I think about it? Well, the governor has not removed Mr. Haralson. He has simply suspended him. Captain Milledge is in, Mr. Haralson is out. To a man up a tree, in the light of that executive order, it looks very much as if a suspension, in this case, amounts to a removal.”

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 7, 1888

Image from www.rootsweb.ancestry.com

MR. FRANK L. HARLASON

Says That He is in the Hands of His Friends.

An Interesting Interview Showing How He Turned Over the Office to Captain Milledge – The Act of 1881.

Yesterday afternoon just before dusk a reporter of THE CONSTITUTION caught Colonel Frank Haralson on the wing at the corner of Marietta and Broad streets. When first seen Mr. Haralson was in the act of picking up a crutch, which had been dropped by an old gentleman — a cripple — who happened to be passing at the moment. He gracefully handed the crutch to the old gentleman, who thank him most warmly for the kindly act.

Colonel Haralson was all smiles, in the best possible humor, and greeted the reporter with his old-time cordiality.

“Hello, old boy; glad to see you!”

“Howdye, colonel; happy to meet you; very man I want to see. Want to get a little talk with you for THE CONSTITUTION.”

“All right; wait one minute,” said Mr. Haralson, as he turned to shake hands with Mr. J.S. Clarke, the lawyer, who said:

“Well, Frank, Milledge is an old schoolmate of mine and a mighty nice man; but I want to say to you that I am sorry you are out. You were always kind, accommodating and attentive to me when I called at the library, and I am really sorry that you have stepped down and out.”

“I appreciate that,” said Mr. Haralson, as returned the warm pressure of his friend’s hand.

“What are you going to do, Frank — practice law?” asked Mr. Clark.

“Yes, I shall open an office without delay, and I think that I will do well. I was retained today in a case which will give me a $200 fee — pretty good start, ain’t it?”

“It certainly is,” replied Mr. Clark. “I hope that you will get many such fees, and larger ones, too. I wish you all prosperity in your profession,” and the lawyer passed on.

“You may say,” said Colonel Haralson, addressing himself pleasantly to the news man, “You may say that I am under obligations to await the action of my friends in this matter. A number of them will come to Atlanta on Monday and talk it over. I have nothing to say until after they meet. But, by the way, I wish that you would print the act of ‘81, authorizing my appointment as librarian. It may be of some interest to the public just at this time. You can say, too, that I bear no hard feelings toward anybody connected with my removal.”

“Tell me about turning over the office to Captain Milledge.”

“Oh, yes. Well, after the order suspending me had been issued yesterday, I walked into the library and said: ‘Captain Milledge, old boy, you are a full-fledged state librarian now (I said this laughingly). I want you to understand, captain, that I do not deliver to you these keys as the librarian of the state, but as a man who wishes to do nothing to stain his honor. Governor Gordon is a gentleman. I like him — but I am willing to leave it all to Hopkins and Glenn. I have some private papers and books in the basement. But Willie Rankin and Jim, the porter, know them as well as I do, and they can deliver them to me.’ I then showed Captain Milledge some valuable books, which I told him would bear watching. I said, ‘Good-bye, Willie; look after everything; stay if you please I have nothing to do with that.’ Just before I walked out Willie Rankin, who is one of the best boys in the world, said: ‘Goodbye, Frank old fellow. I want to say before you go that during all the time we have been together in the library you have never spoken one harsh word to me.”

Here is the act of 1881, and to which Mr. Haralson referred:

Section 1. It shall be the duty of the governor of this state to select and present for confirmation by the senate some fit and competent person (who shall be a citizen of this state) to serve as state librarian, whose term of office shall be four years and until his successor shall have been chosen and confirmed in like manner as herein provided and declared.

Section 2. And be it further enacted that so much of section 72 of the code of 1873 as relates to the appointment and removal from office of the state librarian be, and the same is hereby repealed.

Section 72 of the code of ‘73, before the passage of the above law, empowered the governor to remove the state librarian at pleasure.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 8, 1888

Image from www.eauctionliquidators.com

That Possessory Warrant.

An interesting case will be heard in Justice Tanner’s court this morning at 8:30 o’clock. It will be remembered that Mr. Fred Allbright, the clerk at Mr. Abe Fry’s, swore out a possessory warrant for a watch which it is alleged that Mr. Frank Haralson took out of the store. That watch is in possession of Justice Tanner, and he will decide this morning whether it belongs to Mr. Fry or Mr. Haralson.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 16, 1888

THROUGH THE CITY.

Yesterday morning Judge Tanner delivered to Mr. Abe Fry that watch. Mr Frank Haralson concluded not to resist the possessory warrant which was sworn out by Fred Albright, Mr. Fry’s clerk.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 22, 1888

Abe Fry Advertisement 1884

A MISTRIAL.

Frank Harralson Tried in the City Court for Pointing a Pistol at Abe Fry.

A good deal of interest was shown in the case of hte state against Frank Harralson, indicted for pointing a pistol at Abe Fry, which was tried yesterday morning in the city court.

The defendant was in the court with his attorneys, Messrs Sibley and Newman, and Abe Fry was present as prosecutor.

It was proved that the defendant, with a cowhide in one hand and a pistol in the other, went into Abe Fry’s establishment and that he pointed the weapon at Mr. Fry’s head. The prosecutor did not charge the defendant with striking him with the whip, in fact, he stated distinctly that Harralson did not strike him.

Several witnesses explained how the difficulty happened, and they gave the details which were published in THE CONSTITUTION the morning after the row.

Mr. Haralson was permitted to make his statement. He admitted having sought Fry for the purpose of chastising him with a rawhide, and confessed having carried a pistol in one hand and a cowhide in the other. He also admitted that it was his purpose to lash Fry and if he resisted to kill him.

After all the evidence was in it seemed doubtful whether Haralson had actually pointed the pistol at Fry, and this was the rock upon which the jury split.

The jury stayed out two hours, and decided that it was impossible to agree upon a verdict. Thereupon Judge Van Epps ordered that a mistrial be marked on the docket.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) May 23, 1888

Ulster Overcoat (Image from www.askandyaboutclothes.com)

SAYINGS ON THE SIDEWALK

Frank Harralson, lawyer and ex-state librarian, wears a heavy, long ulster. One night about a week ago he lost that overcoat, and the next day began hunting for it.

For three or four days he kept up the search, but without any success.

All of his friends knew that he had lost the ulster, and every one had an eye open for it.

Yesterday morning the colonel turned up with the big, warm ulster on his back.

Of course his friends were surprised.

“Where did you find it?” he was asked.

“Well, last night,” he replied, “I dreamed I had left it at Snook’s furniture store and early this morning I went there. Sure enough, I found my coat. Mr. Snook had picked it up the day I left it there and put it in one of the magnificent wardrobes of his.”

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Jan 9, 1889

PECULIAR WORD BLINDNESS ATTACKS FRANK HARALSON

Frank L. Haralson, at one time a prominent attorney in the city, and a man who let the tempter wreck what would have been a good and useful life, was taken from a saloon at the corner of Decatur and Ive streets last night in an unconscious condition and carried to the Grady hospital in the ambulance.

He was suddenly stricken down and now lies at the hospital afflicted with the strange disease known to some physicians as “word blindness.” Some nerve tissue of the brain has given away and when he talks he uses the wrong words to express himself, the same mental disease which it was said had attacked Admiral Sampson. He seems to know what he wishes to say, but when he tried to talk his tongue refuses to articulate the words he wishes to use.

Some fifteen years ago Frank Haralson was state librarian and a man with an education and in intellect bright enough to have made himself a leader in the legal profession. He was warm-hearted and numbered his friends by the hundreds. His convivial nature led him to indulge in drink to excess. He fought for a while against the habit, but it slowly worked his ruin. During his gradual downfall and even now he has never lost his innate goodness of heart, and however he may have harmed himself, he was never known to harm a fellow man. Those who knew him in his better days and those who know him now never express aught save a sincere pity that his life should have been what it is, that his life should be as it has been.

At times he would throw off the habit which had been his ruin, but old associations, and perhaps, a memory of the life he had sacrificed, drove him back into dissipation.

Last night he was standing in a saloon, but was not drinking. He was seen to reel and fall heavily to the floor. There he lay in violent convulsions until the ambulance bore him to the hospital.

The physicians say he is seriously ill and may die. His brain is affected, the mind having given away under the long strain which had been placed upon it. He seems to realize his condition, but when he tries to speak to those about him he utters words entirely, foreign to what his mind would have him say. It is a peculiar malady and one that is rarely ever known. He may recover and he may regain his mental power, but the physician think the chances are against him.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Jan 14, 1902

Image from www.bynelawenforcement.com

It seems Mr. Haralson did survive, and evidently recovered from his episode of “word blindness.” He continued to work as a lawyer, and it seems, over time, regained the respect (maybe he quit drinking?) of the people. I found several references to him as a divorce lawyer and other “domestic” type cases.

LAWYER CALLS “COP” A LIAR.

Attorney Haralson Imprisoned One Hour for Contempt of Court.
Gunn and Negro Fined.

Frank Haralson, an attorney, called Policeman Dobbins a liar in the recorder’s court yesterday morning and he was imprisoned an hour in a cell for contempt of court. He was given the alternative of either serving the sentence or paying $5.

H. Percy Gunn, of Petersburg, was on trial for writing an insulting note to a young woman, and Dave Dorsey, a negro who delivered the note, was also on trial.
Attorney Haralson was defending Gunn.

“I would like to know how you came to be retained in this case?” remarked Policeman Dobbins, who had made the arrests. He was speaking to Attorney Haralson.

“That’s none of your business,” replied the lawyer.

“I understand that you have been hanging about he police barracks,” continued the officer, “trying to pick up just such cases as this.”

“You are a liar,” snapped out the attorney.

Before the policeman could reply, the recorder interfered and find Lawyer Haralson $5 for contempt of court. Later he said he would either collect the fine or imprison the lawyer for one hour. Attorney Haralson decided to stay in a cell one hour and make $5.

The cases against Gunn and the negro were again called in the afternoon. Gunn claimed he was a stranger and the negro got him to write the note. The negro said he only obeyed the white man’s order. The recorder fined each of them $10.75.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Nov 23, 1902

Oscar W. Underwood (Image from www.vernacularphotography.com)

UNDERWOOD RALLY HELD AT THE CHASTAIN HALL

An enthusiastic Underwood [Oscar Wilder Underwood] rally was held at Chastain hall, at Tenth street and Hemuphill avenue, last night.

Frank Haralson, a well-known Atlanta lawyer, with offices in the Kiser building, was the principal speaker at the meeting. The crowd was a most enthusiastic one.
The meeting was presided over by Hon. James L. Hollowell, who introduced the speaker.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) May 1, 1912

Hugh M. Dorsey (Image from wikimedia)

MASS MEETING HELD IN DORSEY’S INTEREST

A mass meeting was held last night in Norman’s hall, at Lakewood Heights, in the interest of the candidacy of Hugh M. Dorsey for solicitor general of the Atlanta circuit. About 100 citizens of this section were present.

Judge P.B. Hopkins presided and addresses were made by Colonel Frank L. Haralson, Captain Thomas B. Brown, W.C. Mundy, E.G. Nable, president of the Machinist’s union, and H.L. Watts and Mr. Dorsey.

The meeting was most enthusiastic.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Aug 8, 1912

Image from www.netstate.com

From:

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF MEN NOW IN PUBLIC LIFE
BY H.W.J. HAM
SAVANNAH: MORNING NEWS PRINT. 1887

HON. FRANK L. HARALSON,
STATE LIBRARIAN.

FRANK L. HARALSON, the present efficient State Librarian, a son of Hon. T. J. HARALSON, of Union county, his mother having been before marriage Miss MARY A. LOGAN, of White county, was born in Union county, Georgia, January 8,1853.

He received the rudiments of an education in the common schools of the county, and subsequently attended the North Georgia Agricultural College, at Dahlonega, being the first student enrolled when that institution was established. He subsequently graduated at the University, Athens, Georgia, in 1875.

Mr. HARALSON, after completing his education, entered upon the study of law, and was admitted to the bar in 1875, and entered upon the practice at Cleveland, White county.

In January, 1877, when Gov. COLQUITT came into office, Mr. HARALSON was appointed by him to the office of State Librarian, and has held the position continuously since that time, having been reappointed by Gov. COLQUITT, again by Gov. McDANIEL, and lastly by Gov. GORDON.

On March 26,1883, Mr. HARALSON was married to Miss LULA SMALL, sister of Rev. SAM W. SMALL, the evangelist, a most lovely and accomplished lady. No man who has ever held the position has given more general satisfaction to those having business with the department over which he presides.

THE SCENE – Whitechapel, 1888.

SICKERT: Well done, William Gull, the Queen’s physician. Another prostitute murdered and no one’s any the wiser.

GULL: Thank you, Impressionist painter Walter Sickert. At this rate, nobody will know Prince Albert Victor’s terrible secret.

SICKERT: You mean the one about the piercing?

GULL: No, that’s fairly common knowledge.

SICKERT: Then his consorting with harlots, trugmoldies, blowzabellas and the like?

GULL: No, that too is a fairly open secret. I mean the other one.

SICKERT: Oh, right. Yes, that secret is safe as houses. And all it took was five ritual murders and the involvement of a large number of unconnected people. You’re a smooth operator, Gull.

GULL: Thank you, Sickert. But… one thing troubles me. I think that, despite the fact that these killings appear, on the face of it, to be the work of a nutjob with some knowledge of anatomy, it might be too obvious that there’s a conspiracy behind it.

SICKERT: Are you sure, Gull?

GULL: One cannot be too careful. In order to cover our tracks, I think we should leave a series of cryptic clues. I shall write “THE JUWES ARE THE MEN THAT WILL NOT BE BLAMED FOR NOTHING” above this murdered whore. In reference to Jubelo, Jubela and Jubelum, who as you know, figure very strongly in Masonic lore.

SICKERT: Really? I don’t see what they have to do with -

GULL: Exactly.

SICKERT: Oh. Okay.

GULL: Also, you should add some clues into your paintings.

SICKERT: Well, if you say so.

GULL: I do. Also, retroactively, I should develop arthritis in my hands and you should be in France.

SICKERT: What? How can I retroactively do something like that?

GULL: I’ll use my Masonic powers.

YR. HUMBLE CHRONICLER: Do you know, I have no idea how to end this entry.

SICKERT: Oh no! Rasta Squid!

All are devoured. Curtain.

Idag så var vi på Malmö Chokladfabrik med anledning av att det var Chokladens dag. Troligen instiftat av Malmö Chokladfabrik själva. Det får vara som det vill med denna sak, roligt initiativ är det och vi tyckte alla att det var roligt. Efter erlagd avgift kom vi in i utställningen. Alla produkter fanns på plats varav många gick att provsmaka. En lite rolig och ovanlig provning var att man fick ta en tesked av fyllningen till en av pralinerna. Det var kul eftsrsom vi tycker att pralinerna är mycket fina och goda.

Efter att vi hade gått och smakat och luktat på choklad, lakritspastiller och kaffe åkte vi upp 2 våningar till Kakaosalen där Peter från Malmö Chokladfabrik höll ett föredrag och choklad och ickechoklad. Efter att ha lyssnat på honom så är det tveksamt om Marabous Premiun-serie köps av mig. En vara som defenitivt inte kommer att hamna i vårt hem är Block (Blockchoklad). Transfetter och ingen choklad, fy fan. Kolla innehållsförteckningen innan ni lägger ner något i varukorgen. Choklad behöver 2-3 ingredienser. Kakao, socker och vid ljus choklad även smölkpulver. Utöver detta så kan man tillsätta smakämnen.

Kakaoträden växer inte högre upp än 600 meter över havet och växtområdet är mellan 10 grader norr och 10 grader söder om ekvatorn. Stora producentländer är Ghana, Elfenbenskusten och Malaysia. När man plockar frukten så innehåller den kakaobönorna som vaken luktar eller smakar kakao.

När dom legat och jäst lite så torkas och paketeras i jutesäckar för att skickas till chokladfabriker. I Sverige finns endast en fabrik som gör choklad från böna till konsumentprodukt. Det är Malmö Chokladfabrik. De övriga får färdiga produkter eller möjligen halvfabrikat.

Den första chokladfabriken i Sverige startades i Malmö 1872 av bröderna Cloetta från Schweiz. Efter sekelskiftet frytta de sin fabrik till Ljungbro. Malmös andra chokladfabrik startades 1888 av Emil Nissen som under 1940-talet skaffade sig tillägget Mazetti för att ionte förväxlas med en konkurrent.

Namnet Mazzietti kommer av det italienska ordet för bukett / knippe. Han hade visionen om att ha en hel bukett av varor till försäljning. Bilden ovan är en 4 meter hög chokladmålning. Ja den bruna färgen är choklad- Bilden hänger i Kakaosalen på 3:e våningen.

Efter denna föreläsning om choklad så tog efter en 15 minuter lång paus Emil Nissens sonson Leif Nissen-Mazzetti över scenen för att tillsammans med Matilda Mettäli belysa den effekt som choklad och musik ger. Vi fick smaka på en choklad samtidigt som vi blundande lyssnade på ett musikstycke. Efteråt fick vi berätta vad vi upplevde: passade det ihop, vad såg vi inne i huvudet osv. Kul

Avslutningsvis gick vi ner och köpte godsaker för att sedan gå på Thairestaurang i nästa kvarter. En lyckad söndag kan man säga. Sambon och sonen sover middag och jag skall göra dem sällskap så fort jag publiserat detta inlägg. God eftermiddag.

Speaking of America and advertising…

I really like the commercial I saw the other day for the new Levi’s campaign, called “Go Forth.” The clip was essentially just some images of youthful abandon, half dressed, cavorting around with fireworks and in jeans, and was directed by Cary Fukunaga with an interesting visual flair. You can see it here:

The dialogue comes from an old wax sound recording of Walt Whitman reading four lines from his poem, “America.” Whitman has no problem singing the body electric with the young folks of today, it seems.

There’s another commercial from the from same campaign, entitled “O Pioneers!” It’s not as striking, but it’s still got a good visual style, courtesy of director M. Blash. I don’t know much about Blash, other than the trailer for his upcoming Chloë Sevigny/Jena Malone/Leelee Sobieski-starring indie film, Lying, which both bores and fascinates me, and features a great Joy Division-esque song by John Maus. Here’s Blash’s commerical:

The print aspects of the new campaign, and pretty much all of it except for that single commercial, don’t really interest me. Jeans are jeans and this is America – thanks for reminding me, Levi’s/Walt Whitman – not Russia, and I wonder again and again: How hard do you really have to advertise jeans? The same, I would think, could be said for beer, sodas, and potato chips, right? Whatever, I’m not a marketing major.

That said, I do give Levi’s a little more credit at the advertising game just because they seem to continuously go with a more interesting visual in their commercials. Their ad people keep it hip, keep it interesting. Though it aired easily ten years ago or more, to this day I still remember the levi’s commercial featuring Gael Garcia Bernal and “Playground Love” by Air. Good stuff.

Anyway, this new campaign for Levi’s comes from a firm apparently called Wieden & Kennedy. It’s funny, with all the absorbing of Mad Men and Don Draper speak I’ve been doing lately, I feel like I’m less amazed and blown away by the continuous “indomitable spirit” of this fine country and more by our want and desire to be wined and dined, to be performed to and for, to be good and properly sold on a thing. Our dominion, I’m starting to think, is the desire to conquer not new lands, but not ideals, and to think that we possess them.

Secret Balcony (IMG_3329A), originally uploaded by Nguyen K. Do.

University of Melbourne, 2009.
Nguyen K. Do © 2009

National Punctuation Day

First the lesson, then the humor:

COMMON SENSE ON PUNCTUATION

A Batch of Rules That Are in Accord With Modern Methods.

“Whose punctuation do you follow?”

The answer is, our own. Unlike D’Israeli’s alleged “sensible men” — who, when asked what their religion is, “never tell” — we are willing and glad to tell what our rule of punctuation is. Here you have it in a few words.

1. Never use a comma if “the wayfaring man, though a fool,” can grasp the meaning of the text without it.

2. Never use a semicolon when a comma will serve the author and the reader as well.

3. Never use a colon when a semi-colon will serve as well.

4. Wherever there is no climacteric effect to be preserved, cut up your semicoloned and coloned sentence into short sentences.

5. Use commas and periods as your standbys.

6. Use the semicolon chiefly to better express antithetis, and to group phrases and clauses.

7. Use the colon chiefly in formal enumeration, after “viz.,” “as follows” and the like.

8. Use the dash to indicate an abrupt break in the sentence, an afterthought, and, in many instances where in olden times the parenthesis was used, to indicate that the words included are parenthetically employed.

9. Use the parenthesis only when you find dashes are not sufficiently exclusive.
10. Never use brackets except where you insert some word of your own in a quotation from some other author.

11. Never use an interrogation point except when your question is direct; e.g., it would be improper to use it after “girl” in this sentence: “He asked what ailed the girl.”

These are our rules to-day. Tomorrow, if we see any new light, we shall follow it. But we are not likely to stray away from the course above marked out. Punctuation, like sentence-making, becomes second nature after awhile. In punctuation, as in sentence-making, we do well or ill as we succeed or fail in presenting our thought in fewest words. The words should be chosen and arranged as to develop our meaning, our whole meaning, and nothing but our meaning. — Midland Magazine.

Lima News (Lima, Ohio) Jan 17, 1899

Mistook the Punctuation.

The Young Woman (surprised and indignant) — How dared you kiss me, sir!

Penitent Young Man — Why, you said you’d like to see me do it.

The Young Woman — But you know as well as I do that I said it with an exclamation point at the end!

– Chicago Tribune

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Oct 17, 1910

The importance of punctuation is often not thoroughly appreciated. A reporter at a Chicago paper has involved it in a libel suit because he wrote:

“The prisoner said the witness was a convicted thief.”

What he should have written was:

“The prisoner,” said the witness, “was a convicted thief.”

The words are the same. It is the punctuation that makes the difference.

San Antonio Light (San Antonio, Texas) Feb 19, 1899

NEWSPAPER men in Germany have to be very careful about punctuation. The Hofer Tageblatt a short time ago said a decoration had been conferred upon Count von Holstein. By an oversight an exclamation point, instead of a period, appeared at the end of the sentence, and for this the authorities seized the whole issue and instituted a sit against the editor for atrocious libel.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Feb 15, 1888

Image from kockneykapers on photobucket

Punctuation Puzzle.

The following punctuation puzzle is going the rounds of the press.When properly punctuated it makes good sense:

“If Moses was the son of Pharaoh’s daughter then he was the daughter of Pharaoh’s son.”

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Mar 9, 1888

Can anyone properly punctuate the above puzzle?

Image from www.sacred-texts.com

HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD.

How a Reporter Evened Up Matters With a Captious Editor.

“In one of our western cities some years ago,” said a Kansas City man, “a friend of mine was employed as a reporter on one of the local papers. The next man above him was constantly taking him to task for alleged derelictions in duty and especially for mistakes in grammar, punctuation and similar things. The editor who was forever quarreling with my friend, while a man of force and able to write in a virile manner, was nevertheless deficient in education, and his grammar was occasionally as bad as some of that of Charles Dickens. One day he had been particularly vicious in his criticisms of my friend.

“The following morning there appeared an editorial from his pen, in which the following sentence occurred:

“‘To be a true American one should visit the Rocky mountains and contemplate its beauty and grandeur.’

“Here was the chance my friend had been waiting for, and so he cut the quotation out and sent it to the owner of the paper, to whom both men were responsible, with the following comments:

“‘The first thought suggested by this strange statement is that its author should visit a school of grammar and contemplate its beauty and grandeur. This originality in the use of a singular pronoun standing for a plural antecedent might be used to advantage in a reversion of the style, like the following, for example:

“‘To be a true American one should visit the editor of The Blank and contemplate their beauty and granduer.’ Aside from the offense to English in this admonition to the American people, will the sentiment itself stand analysis?

“If the dictum be true to be a true American one should visit the Rocky mountains and contemplate its beauty and granduer, what is to become of the following:

“‘The man who cannot afford to indulge in this visit and contemplation?

“‘The busy man who cannot find time to go on a mountain gazing tour?

“‘The many good citizens who are blind?’

“The attention of the owner was arrested, and he made inquiries which resulted in his straightening out matter between the two men. While this drastic criticism perhaps did not improve the editor’s grammar, it certainly did improve my friend’s position while on the paper.”

– New York Tribune.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Mar 21, 1901

Image from www.laits.utexas.edu

A stranger in a printing office asked the youngest apprentice what his rule of punctuation was. “I set up as long as I can hold my breath, then I put in a comma; when I gape I insert a semicolon; and when I want a chew of tobacco I make a paragraph.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) May 26, 1870

“Punctuation” does not mean merely the little dots, dashes and fangs with which the lines of the printer are hacked, gashed and riddled. There should be some punctuations in everything. Keep your pockets full of periods, and carry one as a wholesome lozenge on your tongue. Your daily walk should be a great dash – straight and to the point. Commas are small change, not to be spent too freely. The exclamation point is a dagger and is not needed by civilized people.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Feb 15, 1892

Image from www.yourhomework.co.uk

BROWN AS A PUNCTUATOR.

What Came of Trying a New Method of Learning the Rules.
Washington Star.

“Brown, my, boy, there’s nothing like it. Its better than ‘French in six weeks,’ because you can work yourself into it in a month, so that you can hardly say or think anything without following the rule. Take this beautiful selection, which recalls our schoolboy days:

‘The boy stood on the burning deck, comma, whence all but he had fled, semi-colon; the flames that lit the battle’s wreck, comma, shone around him o’er the dead. period.

‘ That’s grand; that’s inspiring. You have all the beauty and all the sentiment, and besides you punctuate as you go along, and so mingle the artistic and the useful.”

Brown was quite taken with this new plan for learning how to punctuate properly. He had often felt like a brother to the fellow who wrote a book without any punctuation whatever, simply adding in an appendix a complete list of punctuation marks, from which the reader could select and punctuate as much or as little as he pleased.

The first lesson went off swimmingly. Brown so fell into the spirit of it that as he walked up the street afterward he found himself soliloquizing:

“I wonder, comma, if I had better get that paregoric, comma, for the baby, comma, before I go home. period. Perhaps, comma” — Then he slipped up on a piece of banana skin and went down flat with two exclamation points and enough stars to equip several issues of a “blanket sheet.”

For the first time in his life he felt like using the “dash” and also making a dash for the miscreant who threw that murderous peel there. He lay on the pavement long enough to denote several paragraphs, then got up with difficulty and limped down the street. But the magic power of that first lesson was still upon him and meeting a newsboy, he began:

“Well, comma, my boy, comma, have you the Star? interrogation point.”

The sharp-eyes little rascal gazed at him curiously and then replied:

“Com-ah? Come off  When did yer ’scape from the ’sylum?”

After punctuating the town generally during the next two hours and getting a crowd of small boys at his heels, whom he escaped by seeking refuge in an empty school building — a place the average boy never enters if he can help it — he took home to his dear family a somewhat battered but still large supply of punctuation.

At 2 a.m. his wife nudged him. “John, John, there are burglars in the house!”

“What — ah? Burglars — burglars!”

Now wide awake, he sprang to the floor, exclaiming:

“Dearest, comma, I will defend you, comma, even with my heart’s blood, comma, if necessary, exclamation point.” He then threw open the chamber door right in the face of two masked burglars, who held pistols to his breast and demanded: “Your money or your life!”

With one whirl of his strong right arm he dashed the pistols aside, two bullets perforating the hall window, instead of his head, as was intended. With tow more whirls of that trusty arm he sent the burglars as surely and swiftly as one sentence follows another in the mouth of a 200-a-minute speaker out through the window after the bullets, remarking:

“There, comma, now, comma, you can hunt your bullets at your leisure, period. Call again, comma, and I’ll show you how to punctuate better, comma, but you can’t put a period to my existence just yet, period.”

Then rushing back to his wife he exclaimed:

“Joy of my life, exclamation point, light of my eyes, more exclamation points, come to my arms, period.”

They fell weeping on each others’ necks. Stars and dashes come in here, denoting a domestic scene too sacred for the eyes and ears of the vulgar public.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Jan 30, 1893

Aici puteţi citi Comentariile la studiul Şcolii de Sabat din această săptămână, de Robert J. Wieland.

Vă recomand şi articolul Marea Controversă şi Nunta Mielului.

O grito do Ipiranga

O brado histórico do dia 7 de setembro de 1822 não foi tão retumbante na época. O grito não repercutiu na ocasião porque, politicamente, a sorte do Brasil já estava selada por uma série de medidas anteriores.

Nem todos que olham o quadro de Pedro Américo, pintado em Florença por encomenda oficial em 1888 imaginam que foi uma idealização do fato verdadeiro, pois, era preciso construir uma imagem gloriosa de uma independência que ao contrário de todos os países americanos, foi conquistada por métodos burocráticos, praticamente sem um único combate armado.

Dentre as alterações no quadro estão:

Um pequeno córrego transformado em riacho; (parte inferior direita do quadro)

Uma colina que não existe no local;

A transformação de umas poucas mulas (a ausência de estradas na Serra da Mantiqueira tornava inviável para cavalos de porte as trilhas íngremes em meio a mata fechada) em dezenas de cavalos de raça nobre;

Os sofridos trajes da longa viagem para São Paulo (4 dias) do então “Príncipe Regente” d. Pedro foram alterados por uniformes militares adornados por condecorações;

Ampliação da comitiva com a incorporação da Guarda do Imperador, que sequer existia na época, pois fora criada tempos depois;

Pra não comentar o motivo pelo qual os viajantes param próximos aos córregos, certamente fisiológicos (Cagar, comer e beber água, não necessariamente nesta ordem).

Outras curiosidades estão na linha de tempo do processo de construção da identidade mitificada de nosso país:

1831

Francisco Manuel da Silva compõe uma melodia (sem letra) que se transformou no Hino Nacional. Note que a música foi composta no ano de abdicação de d. Pedro I e não logo após seu “heróico” gesto em 1822.

1888

Um quadro com regras explícitas sobre seu conteúdo é encomendado a Pedro Américo em Florença, Itália. Visando retratar de forma honrosa o estranho processo de independência brasileiro, envolvendo dinheiro, o que deu início a eterna dívida externa de nosso país.

1922

Cem anos depois a letra de Osório Duque Estrada foi oficialmente adotada para o Hino Nacional.

Pra pensar:

Você acredita que houve grandes mudanças atribuídas a independência do país?

A então colônia brasileira subjugada a Portugal e aos desmandos do comércio Britânico é muito diferente da atual dependência do Brasil por investimentos estrangeiros, produtos manufaturados importados e a exportação com base em produtos primários?

Aici puteţi citi Comentariile la studiul Şcolii de Sabat din această săptămână, de Daniel Peters.

1888 - George Eastman registrou a marca “Kodak” e recebeu a patente por sua câmera, que usava filmes de rolo.

Aici puteţi citi Comentariile la studiul Şcolii de Sabat din această săptămână, de Ellet J. Waggoner.

Aici puteţi citi Comentariile la studiul Şcolii de Sabat din această săptămână, de J.B. Jablonski.

Aici puteţi citi Comentariile la studiul Şcolii de Sabat din această săptămână, de Robert J. Wieland.

As the days begin to shorten and Autumn rushes upon us with its promise of crimson sunsets, foggy evenings and the damp crackle of leaves underfoot, I find my thoughts turning away from Versailles and floating away to Whitechapel and my other big interest, Jack the Ripper.

Now, I am aware that this is lowering the rather rococo tone of my blog somewhat but hear me out. I don’t know precisely when or why I became fascinated with Jack the Ripper but can definitely state that I was a little Ripperologist in training at just fourteen, possibly thanks to the rather bizarre ‘Hey let’s rather inappropriately celebrate the centenary of a series of really quite ghastly murders’ that occured in late 1988, the high point of which was the rather dreary serial starring Michael Caine and Jane ‘Ubiquitous’ Seymour.

I’m sure that I was interested long before this though. I distinctly remember visiting relatives in the East End as a little girl and feeling a thrill of excitement when the underground train passed through Whitechapel, pressing my face up against the cold, metallic smelling, dirty window so that I could stare upwards at the grim Victorian buildings that loom over the station.

Much later on I would get a boyfriend in Wapping and force him to walk with me through horrible Shadwell and up to Whitechapel. We went into the Ten Bells for celebratory gin and as we stood by the door I either felt or imagined a pair of cold hands encircling my waist, even though no one was standing near us. This freaked me out enough to send us back out into the cold, to seek comfort in a curry house in Brick Lane.

I have spent many happy hours in Whitechapel since then, drinking gin in the gloomy warmth of the Victorian pubs, staggering up the long, still grim streets, soaking up the lively atmosphere and spicy scent of Brick Lane and harassing the Jack the Ripper tours that wend through the damp streets every evening.

I have been on a couple of Jack the Ripper tours but don’t really need them any more as the streets of Whitechapel are now so familiar to me that sometimes I fly there in my dreams and wander them either as my modern day self or, terrifyingly in Victorian garb where a faceless, dreadful unknown chases me down the cobbled alleyways.

This is a picture of me standing against the amazing original tile work at the back of the Ten Bells on Commercial Street, where Mary Kelly used to drink. It is a noisy, busy trendy type of place now.

Of particular fascination is the dreary service road, White’s Row which is sandwiched between a hideous multi storey car park and a row of garages and storage bays. This nasty little street is always empty and eerie at night with the sound of distant revelry fading to nothing as you slowly walking down it, your eyes fixed on the Victorian buildings at the far end. In Victorian times it was the site of Dover Street, which was said to be the worst street in London: a grim, heaving, ugly mass of poverty, want, destitution and misery.

Number 13 Miller’s Court, the horrible home of Mary Jane Kelly, the Ripper’s last victim was located at the end of a narrow alleyway leading off Dorset Street, just one of hundreds of mean little dwellings rented out to the indigent citizens of the area. You can’t see where Miller’s Court used to stand, other than a slight dip in the pavement edging where the entrance was once located but there is something in the atmosphere of White’s Row, something nasty and wrong that still pervades the air so that even though you can’t see the houses and their unfortunate inhabitants, you can still feel them.

I don’t know why Jack the Ripper fascinates me so much, or indeed is of interest to so many other people. Would he be so interesting if the case was solved, I wonder? There is something about the Ripper that makes amateur Sherlock Holmes of us all as each of us wonder if we will be the one to finally solve the riddle and received the ultimate accolade.

There is something both romantically compelling and also sinister about the setting too – Victorian London, a city at the height of its Imperial and industrial powers where the gulf between rich and poor has never been greater. We Ripperologists thrill to the imagery of the gas lit cobbled streets with swirls of thick fog, the cries of the flower girls, the rumble of carriages and the garishly dressed, rouged and painted whores who stand on street corners and accost passersby. It might not strictly have been anything like that in real life but I for one am unwilling to relinquish the mental imagery that the mere mention of Jack the Ripper conjurs up in my mind, complete with the swish of his cloak as he vanishes swiftly into the fog.

Luckily for us, this lush mental imagery has been an inspiration to writers, artists and film makers as well. The most notable example being the amazing graphic novel From Hell by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell, which is one of the most fabulous, moving and powerful pieces of writing that I have ever encountered. The film version starring Johnny Depp and an excorable Heather Graham is much maligned and criticised but I actually rather enjoy it despite the ridiculous ‘action’ sequences the and bizarrely sanitized appearance and character of Mary Kelly (she was a prostitute, get over it). Mind you I would watch anything with Robbie Coltrane in is so am probably biased.

Those of us in the UK were also treated to the television series Whitechapel earlier this year, a modern day take on the Ripper murders starring the frankly gorgeous Rupert Penry-Jones with a copycat killer cutting a literal swathe through the dank streets and crack dens of East End London. It could have been a load of schmaltzy, embarrassing nonsense but by employing an edgy soundtrack, flashy editing and a cracking and suspenseful script, it managed to lift itself head and shoulders above most crime drama.

Thanks to my interest in Jack the Ripper I have enjoyed many, many insalubrious gin, tequila and curry soaked evenings in Whitechapel (special mention here goes to my friend Tish and our drunken competing to ‘touch the pavement’ where the entrance to Miller’s Court once lay and also to Sarah for lying down on the spot that Catherine Eddowes was discovered and arranging herself in the same position whereupon an entire gleeful Jack the Ripper tour group took photographs), a bizarre evening at the cinema on the release night of From Hell, a frankly surreal but highly entertaining visit to the London Dungeon dressed up as a Victorian Prostitute, a couple of weird afternoons spent wandering around a St Patrick’s Catholic cemetery in Leytonstone in search of Mary Kelly’s grave (we reverently placed a bottle of gin there amongst the flowers) and even thrown a couple of amazing ‘Gin and Whores’ fancy dress parties in London. It’s probably not entirely sympathetic or appropriate but I am sure that most other Ripperologists can share much the shame experiences.

One day I would like to live in Whitechapel, in a lovely Victorian flat with windows that overlook the Jack the Ripper tour route. I want to be able to sit there with my windows flung open and smile to myself as they pause outside and gasp at the tour guides monologue. In the meantime, I visit whenever I can and make the most of the unusual atmosphere.

If you are interested in reading more about Dorset Street, then I recommend The Worst Street in London by Fiona Rule, which is a study of the area.

Bradford Argus 20/09/18

Yes, folks, we’ve been outed. Intrepid Telegraph and Argus reports in Bradford, West Yorkshire, quote our websites. We were trying to keep things low key, but have been forced to put our hands up and come clean.

A number of our Bradford, West Yorkshire, ancestors, were collectively, Freemasons, and/or Royal Ancient Order of Buffalo’s and Round Table members and yes, some of them were associated (and still are) with The Golden Dawn. What can we say? We have to uphold out beliefs at the end of the day.

Was occult alive and well in Bradford?

After Andorra, my father headed north to Toulouse, the capital of the Midi-Pyrénées region and home to the Saint-Sernin Basilica, the largest romanesque church in Europe, and one of the oldest, too, dating back to the twelfth century, where my father experienced the joy of listening to its grand 1888 Cavaillé-Coll pipe organ, widely considered to be the most beautiful pipe organ of France.

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If you would like to check out some of my music, or if you are studying French and would like some listening practice, click on the link below:

www.frenchdashmusic.blogspot.com

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If you would like to read this story from the beginning, please follow this link:

http://frenchdashmusic.wordpress.com/2009/06/11/the-long-way-home/

1888 Map of Nebraska City, Nebraska

Originally uploaded by Vjhoneycut

This is an excellent piece of history to own. It is very delicate, measurements come in at 77” long x 60” wide. The top and bottom are attached to a piece of wood w/ nails. This is original, as you will soon see by the pictures that it needs to be in a professionals hand. The map is starting to crackle, I only unrolled it to take a picture and then rolled it back up carefully. You can see how it is starting to crackle from being rolled up too many times, and mainly because of the map being over 100 years old. I took many pictures for you to base your decision.

In smaller print along the top it says-

1888 Published by Thos B Stevenson & J.T. Greenwood

Nebraska City, Nebraska

Drawn By A.F. Nims, C.E.

Sections Lines located by Lathrop Ellis, County Surveyor

Copyright 1888 Stevenson & Greenwood
Rand McNally & Co Engravers Chicago

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