Harmon’s Histories: Finding a use for old newspaper clippings
Jim Harmon
Given the snowy scene outside my window, I’m pretty sure it’s still winter. But, I have some spring cleaning to do.
I have too many old newspaper clippings in my files – clippings I’ve never found useful in a story, so it’s time for a clean sweep.
Here’s one from February 8, 1882. “Judge R. H. Williams died at the Warm Springs Asylum. For several years he was a member of the Montana bar, but became demented a few years ago.” I guess I’d been saving that one, figuring I might do a story one day on how many demented lawyers end up in the Asylum.
Also in 1882, at a time the locals felt they’d been taxed enough, boosters put together a big fund-raiser to support the local schoolhouse, which badly needed furniture, new maps, and other apparatus.”
Members of the city band and other musicians volunteered to provide music, the ladies of town “furnished the refreshments, and school children were set loose to sell tickets to the affair.” The local paper declared, “The individual who will not dance for the instruction of the children is too utterly ido-ido (crazy) to live.”
Speaking of ido-ido, the May 12, 1900 issue of the Missoulian newspaper carried an item from an Italian physician who claimed to have found a cure for insomnia: “imitate the drowsy nodding of a tired man while sitting in a chair.”
In other words, let your head swing freely, dropping to either shoulder – then respond by returning your neck to the upright position. “The whole method is to be repeated as long as needful.”
Uh...I don’t think so.
Moving on to fine dining: In the fall of 1881, “a certain well-known young gentleman, who does the honors behind the counter of a Front Street store, was presented with a fine, fat grouse for his supper by one of his employers.”
“When it was returned from the kitchen of a local restaurant, he was informed by a very polite waiter that his grouse was an owl.”
Of course there have always been fabulous fish tales. In the late 1800s, “Major Ronan brought over from the Jocko a mammoth trout weighing 15 pounds.
That brought to mind a local legend of a man who caught the largest fish ever taken from a Yellowstone lake. Asked what it weighed, he replied, “I never weighed it, but when the fish was landed the lake level dropped by three feet and has never risen since.”
Moving along, teenage rowdiness is nothing new - it’s been around as long as there have been teenagers, but in 1881 a few teens got under the skin of a Weekly Missoulian writer.
“There was an element of rowdyism present at the theater on Wednesday night that very decidedly needs suppressing!”
“Men or boys who come into a public assembly with the idea that they can hoot and stamp and bang canes upon chairs, and make rude remarks make public nuisances of themselves, to the discomfort and disgust of orderly people of the audience, should be suppressed by the hand of force.”
“A night in the jug or the payment of a fine would have a strong tendency to curb that growing evil at Missoula entertainments. Emotional acting is very difficult at any time, but thrice as difficult when the most delicate renditions are interrupted by rude remarks.”
“If anyone fails to appreciate that style of acting, it is their great American privilege to go home, but they have no right to infringe upon the rights of others who do and have paid their money for the privilege. A word to the wise may prevent a very disagreeable sensation some night.”
Another old newspaper clipping in my files – involves skunks.
“Smelly polecats” have been raiding the town late at night,” wrote one newspaper editor, who detailed his personal experience. “The print shop dog was assisted by ‘ye editor’ clad in a single garment, but his well-known inaccuracy of aim and a disposition to shoot only at long range, allowed the enemy to depart unharmed.”
Not so, for the editor. Before departing, “the little polecat discharged its ammunition full in his face as a matter of retaliation.”
Finally, I have an 1881 clipping detailing a toothache and attempts to make the pain go away. The good news is that it worked! The bad news is...well, I’ll let the clipping explain.
“A Mile City barkeeper, named Louis Johnson, recently took twenty-five grains of morphine to cure a toothache. The toothache was cured – but, by death.”
On that delightful note, I must return to my spring cleaning or it likely won’t be done until summer. See you next week.