View allAll Photos Tagged Unsolved
I fed butterflies and a skipper moth today. I came bearing little dandelion bouquets, and I didn't have my camera, just this cell phone.
It's falling into winter, but the humble dandelion is still providing food for the late season butterflies, moths, bees, flies, and numerous others. These insects and bugs will feed the chickadee, the sparrow; and the small birds will in turn feed the hawk and other predators.
The other day a hawk snatched a small bird out of the air within 5 feet of me. I felt such mixed emotions. I didn't' want the bird to die, but I wanted the hawk to survive and flourish too.
As a lover of nature, I should be more accepting of this cycle of life, but I still struggle with it. Why do things have to die in order for other things to live, why do things have to die at all? Will some day these things make sense to my heart? Perhaps I should listen to Rilke who said:
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
(taken with my camera phone, because...no good reason, always bring your camera! :))
Poses chosen by model. I think she is just being funny now.
Picture taken at Sunny's studio & mall
Pose used - Preggo craves
Visit this location at Sunny's - Studio & Mall in Second Life
Professor Cline's behind the scenes tour.
Professor Cline's Haunted Monster Museum & Dark Maze, Natural Bridge, Virginia. June 9, 2011
April of 2021, fire would consume the entire property.
Located off Route 130 on Bell Tower Road where BTR dead ends in the woods
Burning roadside: Can Mark Cline rise again from the ashes?
By Hawes Spencer | hawesinsky@gmail.com
Published online 6:07am Wednesday May 23rd, 2012
and in print issue #1121 dated Thursday May 24th, 2012
A mid-April blaze demolished the Victorian-era mansion that served as the Haunted Monster Museum as well as the centerpiece of a bizzaro place called Dinosaur World where dinos would gobble Union soldiers and where brave visitors could also hunt Bigfoot with a "redneck." But the fire means no attractions this summer from Mark "Professor" Cline.
"We're gonna take a break this year," says Cline. "I just need more time to regroup."
Although the fiberglass dinos in the woods outside were saved, the Monster Museum was incinerated. The mechanical rats, the "Elvis-stein" monster, and the mighty fiberglass python that seemed to slither in and out of the second-story gable windows all went up in flames late on the afternoon of April 16.
During a next-day visit, the ruins are still smoldering when a State Police investigator shoos a reporter from the scene.
"This is Natural Bridge property," barks the officer, as Cline ushers the visitor away from the charred house.
"He was my dragon," laughs Cline, recalling the era when the future officer was a teenager piloting not a Crown Victoria but a lawn tractor and sporting a character costume at Cline's last attraction, the Enchanted Castle. In a still-unsolved 2001 fire, a blaze whose investigation (or lack thereof, as he alleges) still makes Cline bristle with anger, the Enchanted Castle went up in flames.
"I'd much rather have Barney Fife and Inspector Clousseau out here," says Cline, recalling how State Police investigators conducted interviews hinting that Cline himself had torched the Enchanted Castle, despite the fact that the Castle was uninsured, and that he lost his office, his studio, and all the irreplaceable 8-millimeter films he made as a boy.
"We've done a pile of work on that case," says George "Stick" Austin, the State Police captain overseeing that investigation, noting that it's standard procedure to interview owners. "It is still considered an active investigation."
As for the recent fire, it was an otherwise uneventful spring afternoon when Cline says he was on the grounds of his studio, where– with a small crew– he manufactures fiberglass figures for America's roadside playgrounds.
"I got a call at about 5:45 from the assistant general manager of Natural Bridge," says Cline. "I dropped everything and ran outside."
Cline pauses, looking mournfully down the highway in the direction of the smouldering ruins.
"I looked up and saw a plume of thick black smoke," he says, "and I knew immediately it was gone."
By the time Cline could speed the three miles south on Lee Highway, what may have started as a minor blaze on a stage at one end of the structure had become an engulfing inferno. Cline snapped a few photographs as the mansion cooked.
At the time of a reporter's visit 24 hours later, all that's left are a trio of chimneys and the front wall, executed in a rusticated gray limestone.
To 64-year-old Kilmarnock resident Ann Gill, whose grandparents owned and operated the structure as a hotel/antique shop called "Stonewall Lodge," it's a crushing blow.
"It was a romantic old home," says Gill. "My mother was married there."
In the years after Gill's family sold the structure in the 1950s, the Natural Bridge company eventually let the place go to seed, and by the 1980s the expansive front lawn had reverted to forest.
Cline says the abandoned house seemed creepy when, a decade ago, he approached the owner, Natural Bridge LLC, with his plan to haunt it. In 2002, he unveiled his Haunted Monster Museum there. Two years later, as an April Fool's prank, he built a full-size replica of Stonehenge called Foamhenge about a mile away.
The past two decades have been a tough time on traditional road-trip destinations. While Natural Bridge keeps attendance figures under wraps, educational places like Monticello and Colonial Williamsburg reveal numbers that have fallen from their peaks in the pre-Internet, pre-water-park era.
The venerable Homestead Resort just announced plans to put in a water park. Massanutten installed its water park in 2005.
As some may recall, there was a proposal in Charlottesville 20 years ago to give land to a steam train operator. But that was at least five hotels ago, before the Downtown Mall and myriad wineries erupted with enough critical mass to fill all the new lodgings.
Despite having what's been billed as the Seventh Wonder of the natural world, Natural Bridge has had no such luck. The town's newest hotel appears at least 50 years old. A pair of zoos, a cave, a wax museum, an Indian village, and a new indoor butterfly garden helped draw families off the Interstate, but it was Cline's humor/horror compound that drew national attention from roadside enthusiasts.
"It was a nice addition to our attractions and particularly popular with kids," says Natural Bridge general manager Debbie Land. "It's a total loss as they say in the insurance world."
It's a great loss to Kay Lera. A retiree from the San Francisco Bay Area who for nine years ran a B&B in her new hometown of Lexington, Lera notes how one man can make a difference.
"Natural Bridge has the beauty of the bridge and the caverns," says Lera, "but having some wacky humor incorporated into the scenario does make it a family destination."
So strong is the pull of Professor Cline that when an unassuming adult walks into the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke to ask what the Museum has to offer, the first words out of the front desk lady's mouth are these: "Well, Professor Cline is gone…"
We didn't even ask about Professor Cline, whose exhibition there had closed a couple of weeks earlier. But when a man hangs a fiberglass King Kong on the side of your museum and breaks attendance records with such twisted figures as the "Franken-chicken," people take notice.
Like the rest of us, Cline says he's now trying to face the prospect of a summer without his Monster Museum. He's seen an uptick in contract work, like the 13 men's room sinks he recently built for the Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying. A couple of reality show producers have made inquiries about following him around.
Cline veers between "pissed off" anger at an unknown arsonist and the peace of knowing that nobody was killed or injured in the fire.
"We made a lot of magic there," says Cline, mulling the impermanence of his creations. "Even one day the great Pyramids of Egypt will be just dust in the wind. This might just be one of those messages from the universe saying it's time to move on."
364/365.
…on my 365, I have a few reflections.
When I started this project, I could never have imagined that it would be… so… difficult. I mean, honestly. A pic a day. For a year. How hard is that? Piece of cake right? :-D
Ha. Yeah. After about, oh, day 5, I decided that I didn't want to just upload a shot of my feet, or some random phone snap. All of a sudden there were "standards" and "expectations" (although I must admit, 100% of those were self-imposed).
It became a case of "Yeah, I took a pic today, but can I upload this? Is it worthy? I mean, this is my 'pic of the day', is it up to snuff?".
Pretty quickly I realized that thinking like that was a sure way to "365 burnout" and that not every shot had to be "great" (according to my self-imposed standards) and that it was okay to post a shot even if I wasn't 100% happy about it. Life gets in the way of photography… :)
My main reason for doing this project was selfish: Mainly (but not limited to) I wanted to take a photo a day to a) improve my creativity, b) my PP skills and c) to try and find my "photo niche".
By this matrix, I am about 50% happy.
"a": my creativity, that's a so-so, some days yes, some days no. Same with "b" though I think I have made larger strides here, there are still quite a few things I'd like to improve in the future, which I hope my "1 a week (52)" project for 2012 will allow. "c" remains unsolved and maybe chaffs my ass the most. I am still suffering from photography ADD. :/
The other thing that made this project difficult, was the fact that "life gets in the way of photography". As most of my contacts probably know, along with a full time job with (sometimes) challenging hours, I have a young and very active family. My 3 great kids (the "Things"), and a lovely supportive wife have made this project possible, but I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been a strain on all of us sometimes. I don't really need to explain that, do I? ;-)
Along those lines, needless to say, this project would have died an early death if it wasn't for the support of my fantastic family. I really could not have finished this without the support of my awesome and beautiful wife Chelsea who has been both a (slightly reluctant at times) subject, but more readily my "photo editor/POD chooser" this year, when I have had several photos/PP treatments that I couldn't decide on. Also, "Things 1-3" (aka Michael, Elena and Nathan) have been more than awesome. They have been willing subjects and enthusiastic supporters of my project from day one. You monkeys rock! :-)
I'd also be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the support of my fellow 365ers, as well as my other supportive contacts. You have all encouraged me through your comments, but more importantly, inspired me through your work to "step it up" and keep it going for this year. Without your support, this project would have probably ended in the trash bin back in the second week of January… Thank you again, to all of you who have taken the time to view my work, and comment/critique it.
A great side effect of this is that I feel that I have made a whole new group of friends. It's been really awesome to view your work and be inspired by it, and also gain an insight into the lives of people who I never would have met otherwise. This alone is a selling point for anyone who is thinking about tackling this project in the future! :-)
My goals for 2012 are to "take it ease", via a Project 52. I'm hoping the relaxed pressure of only having to produce (minimum) one photo a week will allow me to really spend some time thinking about the photos I want to make, and allow me to spend more time experimenting with lighting, subjects, post-processing and creative concepts, so I can grow as a photographer going forward.
My 365 has taught me a lot, I'm hoping my 52 will teach me more.
(thanks for reading this far)
Cheers, and congratulations to all who have completed Project 365 in 2011!
One. More. To. Go. :).
Santa's Elves, just some of the fiberglass figures modeled after the characters from the 1964 Rankin – Bass Christmas Special: “Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer”.
Seen at Professor Cline's Haunted Monster Museum & Dark Maze, Natural Bridge, Virginia. June 9, 2011
Sadly, a fire destroyed the property and all its contents in 2012
Located off Route 130 on Bell Tower Road where BTR dead ends in the woods
Burning roadside: Can Mark Cline rise again from the ashes?
By Hawes Spencer | hawesinsky@gmail.com
Published online 6:07am Wednesday May 23rd, 2012
and in print issue #1121 dated Thursday May 24th, 2012
A mid-April blaze demolished the Victorian-era mansion that served as the Haunted Monster Museum as well as the centerpiece of a bizzaro place called Dinosaur World where dinos would gobble Union soldiers and where brave visitors could also hunt Bigfoot with a "redneck." But the fire means no attractions this summer from Mark "Professor" Cline.
"We're gonna take a break this year," says Cline. "I just need more time to regroup."
Although the fiberglass dinos in the woods outside were saved, the Monster Museum was incinerated. The mechanical rats, the "Elvis-stein" monster, and the mighty fiberglass python that seemed to slither in and out of the second-story gable windows all went up in flames late on the afternoon of April 16.
During a next-day visit, the ruins are still smoldering when a State Police investigator shoos a reporter from the scene.
"This is Natural Bridge property," barks the officer, as Cline ushers the visitor away from the charred house.
"He was my dragon," laughs Cline, recalling the era when the future officer was a teenager piloting not a Crown Victoria but a lawn tractor and sporting a character costume at Cline's last attraction, the Enchanted Castle. In a still-unsolved 2001 fire, a blaze whose investigation (or lack thereof, as he alleges) still makes Cline bristle with anger, the Enchanted Castle went up in flames.
"I'd much rather have Barney Fife and Inspector Clousseau out here," says Cline, recalling how State Police investigators conducted interviews hinting that Cline himself had torched the Enchanted Castle, despite the fact that the Castle was uninsured, and that he lost his office, his studio, and all the irreplaceable 8-millimeter films he made as a boy.
"We've done a pile of work on that case," says George "Stick" Austin, the State Police captain overseeing that investigation, noting that it's standard procedure to interview owners. "It is still considered an active investigation."
As for the recent fire, it was an otherwise uneventful spring afternoon when Cline says he was on the grounds of his studio, where– with a small crew– he manufactures fiberglass figures for America's roadside playgrounds.
"I got a call at about 5:45 from the assistant general manager of Natural Bridge," says Cline. "I dropped everything and ran outside."
Cline pauses, looking mournfully down the highway in the direction of the smouldering ruins.
"I looked up and saw a plume of thick black smoke," he says, "and I knew immediately it was gone."
By the time Cline could speed the three miles south on Lee Highway, what may have started as a minor blaze on a stage at one end of the structure had become an engulfing inferno. Cline snapped a few photographs as the mansion cooked.
At the time of a reporter's visit 24 hours later, all that's left are a trio of chimneys and the front wall, executed in a rusticated gray limestone.
To 64-year-old Kilmarnock resident Ann Gill, whose grandparents owned and operated the structure as a hotel/antique shop called "Stonewall Lodge," it's a crushing blow.
"It was a romantic old home," says Gill. "My mother was married there."
In the years after Gill's family sold the structure in the 1950s, the Natural Bridge company eventually let the place go to seed, and by the 1980s the expansive front lawn had reverted to forest.
Cline says the abandoned house seemed creepy when, a decade ago, he approached the owner, Natural Bridge LLC, with his plan to haunt it. In 2002, he unveiled his Haunted Monster Museum there. Two years later, as an April Fool's prank, he built a full-size replica of Stonehenge called Foamhenge about a mile away.
The past two decades have been a tough time on traditional road-trip destinations. While Natural Bridge keeps attendance figures under wraps, educational places like Monticello and Colonial Williamsburg reveal numbers that have fallen from their peaks in the pre-Internet, pre-water-park era.
The venerable Homestead Resort just announced plans to put in a water park. Massanutten installed its water park in 2005.
As some may recall, there was a proposal in Charlottesville 20 years ago to give land to a steam train operator. But that was at least five hotels ago, before the Downtown Mall and myriad wineries erupted with enough critical mass to fill all the new lodgings.
Despite having what's been billed as the Seventh Wonder of the natural world, Natural Bridge has had no such luck. The town's newest hotel appears at least 50 years old. A pair of zoos, a cave, a wax museum, an Indian village, and a new indoor butterfly garden helped draw families off the Interstate, but it was Cline's humor/horror compound that drew national attention from roadside enthusiasts.
"It was a nice addition to our attractions and particularly popular with kids," says Natural Bridge general manager Debbie Land. "It's a total loss as they say in the insurance world."
It's a great loss to Kay Lera. A retiree from the San Francisco Bay Area who for nine years ran a B&B in her new hometown of Lexington, Lera notes how one man can make a difference.
"Natural Bridge has the beauty of the bridge and the caverns," says Lera, "but having some wacky humor incorporated into the scenario does make it a family destination."
So strong is the pull of Professor Cline that when an unassuming adult walks into the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke to ask what the Museum has to offer, the first words out of the front desk lady's mouth are these: "Well, Professor Cline is gone…"
We didn't even ask about Professor Cline, whose exhibition there had closed a couple of weeks earlier. But when a man hangs a fiberglass King Kong on the side of your museum and breaks attendance records with such twisted figures as the "Franken-chicken," people take notice.
Like the rest of us, Cline says he's now trying to face the prospect of a summer without his Monster Museum. He's seen an uptick in contract work, like the 13 men's room sinks he recently built for the Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying. A couple of reality show producers have made inquiries about following him around.
Cline veers between "pissed off" anger at an unknown arsonist and the peace of knowing that nobody was killed or injured in the fire.
"We made a lot of magic there," says Cline, mulling the impermanence of his creations. "Even one day the great Pyramids of Egypt will be just dust in the wind. This might just be one of those messages from the universe saying it's time to move on."
Ford F150 - Seen at Professor Cline's Haunted Monster Museum & Dark Maze, Natural Bridge, Virginia. June 9, 2011
April of 2021, fire would consume the entire property.
Located off Route 130 on Bell Tower Road where BTR dead ends in the woods
Burning roadside: Can Mark Cline rise again from the ashes?
By Hawes Spencer | hawesinsky@gmail.com
Published online 6:07am Wednesday May 23rd, 2012
and in print issue #1121 dated Thursday May 24th, 2012
A mid-April blaze demolished the Victorian-era mansion that served as the Haunted Monster Museum as well as the centerpiece of a bizzaro place called Dinosaur World where dinos would gobble Union soldiers and where brave visitors could also hunt Bigfoot with a "redneck." But the fire means no attractions this summer from Mark "Professor" Cline.
"We're gonna take a break this year," says Cline. "I just need more time to regroup."
Although the fiberglass dinos in the woods outside were saved, the Monster Museum was incinerated. The mechanical rats, the "Elvis-stein" monster, and the mighty fiberglass python that seemed to slither in and out of the second-story gable windows all went up in flames late on the afternoon of April 16.
During a next-day visit, the ruins are still smoldering when a State Police investigator shoos a reporter from the scene.
"This is Natural Bridge property," barks the officer, as Cline ushers the visitor away from the charred house.
"He was my dragon," laughs Cline, recalling the era when the future officer was a teenager piloting not a Crown Victoria but a lawn tractor and sporting a character costume at Cline's last attraction, the Enchanted Castle. In a still-unsolved 2001 fire, a blaze whose investigation (or lack thereof, as he alleges) still makes Cline bristle with anger, the Enchanted Castle went up in flames.
"I'd much rather have Barney Fife and Inspector Clousseau out here," says Cline, recalling how State Police investigators conducted interviews hinting that Cline himself had torched the Enchanted Castle, despite the fact that the Castle was uninsured, and that he lost his office, his studio, and all the irreplaceable 8-millimeter films he made as a boy.
"We've done a pile of work on that case," says George "Stick" Austin, the State Police captain overseeing that investigation, noting that it's standard procedure to interview owners. "It is still considered an active investigation."
As for the recent fire, it was an otherwise uneventful spring afternoon when Cline says he was on the grounds of his studio, where– with a small crew– he manufactures fiberglass figures for America's roadside playgrounds.
"I got a call at about 5:45 from the assistant general manager of Natural Bridge," says Cline. "I dropped everything and ran outside."
Cline pauses, looking mournfully down the highway in the direction of the smoldering ruins.
"I looked up and saw a plume of thick black smoke," he says, "and I knew immediately it was gone."
By the time Cline could speed the three miles south on Lee Highway, what may have started as a minor blaze on a stage at one end of the structure had become an engulfing inferno. Cline snapped a few photographs as the mansion cooked.
At the time of a reporter's visit 24 hours later, all that's left are a trio of chimneys and the front wall, executed in a rusticated gray limestone.
To 64-year-old Kilmarnock resident Ann Gill, whose grandparents owned and operated the structure as a hotel/antique shop called "Stonewall Lodge," it's a crushing blow.
"It was a romantic old home," says Gill. "My mother was married there."
In the years after Gill's family sold the structure in the 1950s, the Natural Bridge company eventually let the place go to seed, and by the 1980s the expansive front lawn had reverted to forest.
Cline says the abandoned house seemed creepy when, a decade ago, he approached the owner, Natural Bridge LLC, with his plan to haunt it. In 2002, he unveiled his Haunted Monster Museum there. Two years later, as an April Fool's prank, he built a full-size replica of Stonehenge called Foamhenge about a mile away.
The past two decades have been a tough time on traditional road-trip destinations. While Natural Bridge keeps attendance figures under wraps, educational places like Monticello and Colonial Williamsburg reveal numbers that have fallen from their peaks in the pre-Internet, pre-water-park era.
The venerable Homestead Resort just announced plans to put in a water park. Massanutten installed its water park in 2005.
As some may recall, there was a proposal in Charlottesville 20 years ago to give land to a steam train operator. But that was at least five hotels ago, before the Downtown Mall and myriad wineries erupted with enough critical mass to fill all the new lodgings.
Despite having what's been billed as the Seventh Wonder of the natural world, Natural Bridge has had no such luck. The town's newest hotel appears at least 50 years old. A pair of zoos, a cave, a wax museum, an Indian village, and a new indoor butterfly garden helped draw families off the Interstate, but it was Cline's humor/horror compound that drew national attention from roadside enthusiasts.
"It was a nice addition to our attractions and particularly popular with kids," says Natural Bridge general manager Debbie Land. "It's a total loss as they say in the insurance world."
It's a great loss to Kay Lera. A retiree from the San Francisco Bay Area who for nine years ran a B&B in her new hometown of Lexington, Lera notes how one man can make a difference.
"Natural Bridge has the beauty of the bridge and the caverns," says Lera, "but having some wacky humor incorporated into the scenario does make it a family destination."
So strong is the pull of Professor Cline that when an unassuming adult walks into the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke to ask what the Museum has to offer, the first words out of the front desk lady's mouth are these: "Well, Professor Cline is gone…"
We didn't even ask about Professor Cline, whose exhibition there had closed a couple of weeks earlier. But when a man hangs a fiberglass King Kong on the side of your museum and breaks attendance records with such twisted figures as the "Franken-chicken," people take notice.
Like the rest of us, Cline says he's now trying to face the prospect of a summer without his Monster Museum. He's seen an uptick in contract work, like the 13 men's room sinks he recently built for the Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying.
A couple of reality show producers have made inquiries about following him around.
Cline veers between "pissed off" anger at an unknown arsonist and the peace of knowing that nobody was killed or injured in the fire.
"We made a lot of magic there," says Cline, mulling the impermanence of his creations. "Even one day the great Pyramids of Egypt will be just dust in the wind. This might just be one of those messages from the universe saying it's time to move on."
He was hung by his power cable. He was deflated. His friends were tortured.They lost their lights and their blowers. The Slasher wanted to know where Santa's Village is. None of them talked. They even refused to tell him where the North Pole is! I arrived on the scene and scared the Slasher away. Poor Santa, not a breath of air left in his body. Windsor, Ontario
+++ DISCLAIMER +++
Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based on historical facts. BEWARE!
Some background:
Due to increasing tensions in Europe which led to World War 2, AVRO Aircraft started developing combat aircraft, and as a subsidiary of Hawker, they had access to the Hurricane plans. At the time that the Hurricane was developed, RAF Fighter Command consisted of just 13 squadrons, each equipped with either the Hawker Fury, Hawker Demon, or the Bristol Bulldog – all of them biplanes with fixed-pitch wooden propellers and non-retractable undercarriages. After the Hurricane's first flight, Avro started working on a more refined and lighter aircraft, resulting in a similar if not higher top speed and improved maneuverability.
The result was Avro’s project 675, also known as the "Swallow". The aircraft’s profile resembled the Hawker Hurricane, but appeared more squatted and streamlined, almost like a race version. Compared with the Hurricane, overall dimensions were reduced and the structure lightened wherever possible. The wings were much thinner, too, and their shape reminded of the Supermarine Spitfire’s famous oval wings. The main landing gear was retractable and had a wide track. The tail wheel was semi-retractable on the prototype, but it was replaced by a simpler, fixed tail wheel on production models.
The Swallow made its first flight on 30th December 1937 and the Royal Air Force was so impressed by its performance against the Hurricane that they ordered production to start immediately, after a few minor tweaks to certain parts of the aircraft had been made.
On 25 July 1939, the RAF accepted their first delivery of Avro Swallow Mk. Is. The first machines were allocated to No.1 Squadron, at the time based in France, where they were used in parallel to the Hurricanes for evaluation. These early machines were powered by a 1.030 hp (770 kW) Rolls-Royce Merlin Mk II liquid-cooled V-12, driving a wooden two-bladed, fixed-pitch propeller. The light aircraft achieved an impressive top speed of 347 mph (301 kn, 558 km/h) in level flight – the bigger and heavier Hurricane achieved only 314 mph (506 km/h) with a similar engine. Like the Hurricane, the Swallow was armed with eight unsynchronized 0.303 in (7.7 mm) Browning machine guns in the outer wings, outside of the propeller disc.
In spring 1940, Avro upgraded the serial production Swallow Mk.I's to Mk.IA standard: the original wooden propeller was replaced by a de Havilland or Rotol constant speed metal propeller with three blades, which considerably improved field performance. Many aircraft were retrofitted with this update in the field workshops in the summer of 1940.
In parallel, production switched to the Swallow Mk. II: This new version, which reached the front line units in July 1940, received an uprated engine, the improved Rolls-Royce Merlin III, which could deliver up to 1,310 hp (977 kW) with 100 octane fuel and +12 psi boost. With the standard 87 Octane fuel, engine performance did not improve much beyond the Merlin II's figures, though.
A redesigned, more streamlined radiator bath was mounted, too, and altogether these measures boosted the Swallow’s top speed to 371 mph (597 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m). This was a considerable improvement, and the contemporary Hurricane II achieved only 340 mph (547 km/h).
However, several fundamental weak points of the Swallow remained unsolved: its limited range could not be boosted beyond 300 miles (500 km) and the light machine gun armament remained unchanged, because the Swallow’s thin wings hardly offered more space for heavier weapons or useful external stores like drop tanks. Despite these shortcomings, the pilots loved their agile fighter, who described the Swallow as an updated Hawker Fury biplane fighter and less as a direct competitor to the Hurricane.
Nevertheless, Avro kept on working to improve the Swallow, but with limited success. For instance, in early 1941, a Swallow Mk. II was modified to carry a pair of 20mm Hispano cannons instead of the inner pair of machine guns. Due to the aircraft’s thin wings, this update necessitated bulged fairings and a modified internal structure for the cannons' ammunition drums. The prototype was operationally tested at the home defense front and the additional firepower was warmly welcomed by the pilots who flew it, since the cannons allowed them to stay out of the German bombers’ machine gun range of and added more punch against German escort fighters in dogfights.
This innovation directly led to the Swallow Mk. III, introduced in August 1941, the fighter’s final production variant. Beyond the armament changes and the respective structural changes to the wings, the Mk. III was still powered by the Rolls-Royce Merlin III from the swallow Mk. II, but the variant introduced clipped wing tips in order to compensate for the slightly higher weight of the airframe and to improve roll characteristics at low and medium altitude. Otherwise, the Mk. III was virtually identical to the earlier Mk. II.
Another Mk. II was experimentally converted with a lowered spine and a framed bubble canopy for a better all-around field of view (reminiscent of the Hawker Typhoon's design), but this experiment did not reach production status. The Swallow had already reached its limited development potential and was, by mid-1942, outdated.
Since the Supermarine Spitfire had in the meantime proven its worth and promised a much bigger development potential, production of the Avro Swallow already ceased in late 1942 after 435 aircraft had been built. Around the same time, the Swallows were quickly phased out from front-line service, too.
Several machines were retained as trainers, messenger aircraft or instructional airframes. 20 late production Mk. IIs were sold to the Irish Air Corps, and a further 50 aircraft were sent to Canada as advanced fighter trainers, where they served until the end of the hostilities in 1945.
General characteristics:
Crew: 1
Length: 28 ft 1 in (8.57 m)
Wingspan: 33 ft 7 in (10.25 m)
Height: 8 ft 6 in (2.60 m)
Wing area: 153 ft² (16.40 m²)
Empty weight: 3,722 lb (1,720 kg)
Gross weight: 5,100 lb (2,315 kg)
Powerplant:
1× Rolls-Royce Merlin III liquid-cooled V-12, rated at 1,310 hp (977 kW) at 9,000 ft (2,700 m)
Performance:
Maximum speed: 366 mph (590 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m)
Range: 320 miles (515 km)
Service ceiling: 36,000 ft (10,970 m)
Rate of climb: 2,780 ft/min (14.1 m/s)
Wing loading: 29.8 lb/ft² (121.9 kg/m²)
Power/mass: 0.15 hp/lb (0.25 kW/kg)
Armament:
2× 0.787” (20mm) Hispano Mk II cannon with 60 RPG
4× 0.303” (7,7mm) Browning Mk. II machine guns with 350 RPG
The kit and its assembly:
This is actually a remake of a whif that I have built some time ago for the Battle of Britain Group Build at whatifmodelers.com. This fictional machine – or better: the model – is based on a profile drawing conceived by fellow forum member nighthunter: an Avia B.135, outfitted with a Merlin engine, a ventral radiator in the style of a Hawker Hurricane, and carrying RAF markings.
I had another B.35 kit at hand, as well as other ingredients, so I decided to re-create the same aircraft, just in a later variant that differs in some minor details from the first one. The basis is, once again, a vintage KP Models kit of the early B.35 fighter with a fixed landing gear. It’s a sleek and pretty aircraft, but the kit’s quality is rather so-so (the molds date back to 1974). Details are quite good, esp. on the exterior. You get a mix of engraved and raised surface details, but fit is mediocre, there is lots of flash and the interior is quite bleak. But, with some effort, things can be mended.
Many donation parts for the Swallow, including the Merlin engine, propeller, landing gear and radiator, were taken from an AZ Models Spitfire Mk. I/II/V, from a Joy Pack, which comes with three of these kits without decals.
New landing gear wells had to be carved out of the massive lower wing halves. Since the original Swallow profile did not indicate the landing gear design, I went for an inward-retracting solution, using parts from an early Spitfire. Due to the oil cooler in one of the wing roots, though, the stance ended up a little wide, but it’s still acceptable and I stuck to the same solution as on my first build of the Swallow. But now I know why the real world B.135 prototype had its landing gear retract outwards – it makes more sense.
The Merlin fitted very well onto the B.35 fuselage, diameter and shape match very well, even though the Spitfire Merlin and its respective fuselage intersection is a little too deep for the B.35. As a consequence, some light sculpting with putty was necessary under the fuselage – nothing dramatic, though.
Inside of the cockpit, this time I used more Spitfire material than during my first Swallow build, namely the floor, seat and rear bulkhead/headrest. Like before, I added a tank behind the seat in order to fill the OOB void there, and used the B.35’s OOB headrest struts, as well as the dashboard.
The blurry, single-piece canopy was cut into three pieces for optional open display on the ground, but this was not a smart move since the material turned out to be very thin and, even worse, brittle – cracks were the unfortunate result. L
Since one of the B.35’s wing tips was missing (there’s a deep edge at the tips, and one tip had been broken off and got lost), I reduced the span of both wings, resulting in a square shape that resembles a narrow Hawker Tempest wing.
Another change concerns the armament: trying to beef it up, I added a pair of Hispano cannon to the wings, with the barrels protruding from the wings’ leading edges, reminiscent of the Spitfire’s “B” wing – even though I kept the outer machine guns at the Swallow’s original position.
Finally, I installed my trademark propeller adapter: a styrene tube inside of the fuselage that holds a long metal axis with the propeller, so that it can spin freely.
Painting and markings:
Once again I went for a conservative route, this time I chose the new standard “Day Fighter” camouflage that the RAF introduced in summer 1941: Dark Green/Ocean Grey (using Humbrol 116 and 106, respectively) with Medium Sea Grey (Humbrol 64) undersides.
The typical fuselage ID band and the spinner became Sky (Revell 59) and yellow ID bands were added to the outer wings’ leading edges, created with yellow decal sheet material.
The roundels were chosen to match the 1941 era, with A.1 roundels on the fuselage, B roundels on top of the wings and Type A underneath, they actually belong to P-40s in RAF service and come, including the fin flash, from a Sky Models sheet. The code letters in Sky come from an Xtradecal sheet, the serial number actually belongs to a contemporary RAF P-40C – I was too lazy to create an individual serial number that actually fills a gap in the RAF’s inventory list.
Some light weathering and panel shading was done, as well as some light soot stains around the exhausts and the gun ports on the wings (grinded graphite). Finally, everything sealed under a coat of matt acrylic varnish (Italeri) and wire antennae (stretched sprue material) added.
A simple project, realized in a couple of days – thanks to the experience gathered during the first build of this fictional aircraft. However, the Avro Swallow looked already promising in nighthunter's original profile, almost like a missing link between the sturdy Hurricane and the more glorious Spitfire. The result looks very convincing, and with the clipped wingtips, born as a makeshift solution, it looks even faster than the original build!
I am amazed how good this thing looks overall, with its elegant, slender wings and the sleek fuselage lines. At first glance, it looks like an early Spitfire, but then you notice the different wings, the low canopy and the shorter but deeper tail. Then you can think it was a travestied Yak-3 or LaGG aircraft, but again the details don’t match. It’s a quite subtle creation. Maybe, someday, a third one will join my RAF Swallow duo, but this time in Irish Air Corps colors.
Autumn of 1845 at Lord Southampton’s country manor : Quorndon Hall, Leicestershire:
A young girl who was staying there with her titled parents observed a magician performing in the towns green. Insisting that he come and do his tricks at the manor, Lord Southampton obeyed the girls request and arranged for him to perform at the estate to entertain the children visiting while their parents were attending the annual Autumn Ball that weekend.
When he arrived the young handsome lad endeared himself to the older sister of the girl who had insisted upon his appearance. After his show he joined her and her circle of friends for the evening. He won them all over, flirting from one gowned lady to another. But he soon managed to disappear from the gathering.
Later that evening it was discovered that the Daughter was missing her expensive brooch. Than almost simultaneously a friend of hers missed her valuable necklace of pearl strings, Than yet a third friend discovered her diamond earrings vanished, without so much as a prickling. This one remembered that the magician had lifted long flowing her hair up and let it down her back while complimenting her on the sparkle of her cascading earrings held by a simple clasp to her ears. Two other young woman also discovered some of their diamonds were missing also.
A search was made for the magician, but he had simply melted away, to where no one ever found out and it remained a mystery.
However any suspicions about the young nimble fingered magician being the thief were confirmed late the next morning.
After brunch several of the mothers had gone to their children’s rooms to collect the jewels that they had adorned their offspring with before sending them down to be entertained by the magician the previous evening. There had been about a dozen young females sent to the gathering not only wearing fancy dresses but also pearls, diamonds and other small pieces of gemstone jewellery, necklaces, earrings, rings and bracelets, even a small diamond tiara that the young daughter, who asked for the magician’s attendance, had insisted upon wearing with her satin gown.
When they discovered that some of the jewelry had been unaccounted for ( the most expensive ones) they question their Nannies. It was discovered that the children had been left unsupervised while the Magician had entertained them. And as he had done so, performing his sleight of hand tricks, he had primarily picked certain young ladies from the audience to help him, including the daughter.
Not surprisingly it was these same young ladies whom their nannies had discovered were missing jewelry as they collected them and helped them undress for bed after the show. They did not want to bother the parents at the party, so no mention was made until the next morning when the Mothers had asked for them.
The magician got away with the jewels leaving his victims helpless in his wake.
*************************************************************************************
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
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+++ DISCLAIMER +++
Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based historical facts. BEWARE!
Some background:
Due to increasing tensions in Europe which led to World War 2, AVRO Aircraft started developing combat aircraft, and as a subsidiary of Hawker, they had access to the Hurricane plans. At the time that the Hurricane was developed, RAF Fighter Command consisted of just 13 squadrons, each equipped with either the Hawker Fury, Hawker Demon, or the Bristol Bulldog – all of them biplanes with fixed-pitch wooden propellers and non-retractable undercarriages. After the Hurricane's first flight, Avro started working on a more refined and lighter aircraft, resulting in a similar if not higher top speed and improved maneuverability.
The result was Avro’s project 675, also known as the "Swallow". The aircraft’s profile resembled the Hawker Hurricane, but appeared more squatted and streamlined, almost like a race version. Compared with the Hurricane, overall dimensions were reduced and the structure lightened wherever possible. The wings were much thinner, too, and their shape reminded of the Supermarine Spitfire’s famous oval wings. The main landing gear was retractable and had a wide track. The tail wheel was semi-retractable on the prototype, but it was later replaced by a simpler, fixed tail wheel on production models.
The Swallow made its first flight on 30th December 1937 and the Royal Air Force was so impressed by its performance against the Hurricane that they ordered production to start immediately, after a few minor tweaks to certain parts of the aircraft had been made.
On 25 July 1939, the RAF accepted their first delivery of Avro Swallow Mk. Is. The first machines were allocated to No.1 Squadron, at the time based in France, where they were used in parallel to the Hurricanes for evaluation. These early machines were powered by a 1.030 hp (770 kW) Rolls-Royce Merlin Mk II liquid-cooled V-12, driving a wooden two-bladed, fixed-pitch propeller. The light aircraft achieved an impressive top speed of 347 mph (301 kn, 558 km/h) in level flight – the bigger and heavier Hurricane achieved only 314 mph (506 km/h) with a similar engine. Like the Hurricane, the Swallow was armed with eight unsynchronized 0.303 in (7.7 mm) Browning machine guns in the outer wings, outside of the propeller disc.
In spring 1940, Avro upgraded the serial production Swallow Mk.I's to Mk.IA standard: the original wooden propeller was replaced by a de Havilland or Rotol constant speed metal propeller with three blades, which considerably improved field performance. Many aircraft were retrofitted with this update in the field workshops until summer 1940.
In parallel, production switched to the Swallow Mk. II: This new version, which reached the front line units in July 1940, received an uprated engine, the improved Rolls-Royce Merlin III, which could deliver up to 1,310 hp (977 kW) with 100 octane fuel and +12 psi boost. With the standard 87 Octane fuel, engine performance did not improve much beyond the Merlin II's figures, though.
A more streamlined radiator bath was fitted, too, and altogether these measures boosted top speed to 371 mph (597 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m). This was a considerable improvement, and the contemporary Hurricane II achieved only 340 mph (547 km/h).
Despite this improvement, though, several fundamental weak points of the Swallow remained unsolved: its limited range could not be boosted beyond 300 miles (500 km) and the light machine gun armament remained unchanged, because the Swallow’s thin wings hardly offered more space for heavier weapons or useful external stores like drop tanks.
Despite these shortcomings, the pilots loved their agile fighter, which was described as an updated Hawker Fury biplane fighter and less of a direct competitor to the Hurricane. After War had been declared, the crews flew the early Mk.I well against the more experienced Luftwaffe fighters, and many of these aircraft were updated to Mk. IA standard.
Since the type was not operated in large numbers, Swallow aces were few. One of them was Flight Lieutenant Killian Murphy, an Irish Volunteer and Pilot of JX-M of RAF No. 1 Squadron. He scored two of his total 24 kills in a Mk. I, and 8 more in a Mk. II from August 1940 on. The initial scores were a Bf 109E and a Ju87, both shot down during the evacuation of Dunkirk. Most of his later victories were scored during the defense of London, before the squadron was completely re-equipped in early 1941 with Hurricane Mk. IIs and later Typhoons, rather focusing on ground attack and interdiction missions on Continental Europe.
Some work was done to improve the Swallow, but with limited success. For instance, in early 1941 a Swallow Mk. II was modified to carry a pair of 20mm Hispano cannons instead of the inner pair of machine guns. Due to the thin wings, this option necessitated bulged fairings and a modified internal structure for the cannons' ammunition drums, but the additional firepower was welcomed and led to the Swallow Mk. III, which was introduced in August 1941. It was the final production variant, still powered by the Rolls-Royce Merlin III from the swallow Mk. II. Beyond the armament changes, the wing tips were clipped in order to improve roll characteristics at low and medium altitude. Otherwise the Mk. III was virtually identical to the earlier Mk. II.
Another Mk. II was experimentally converted with a lowered spine and a framed bubble canopy (reminiscent of the Hawker Typhoon's design), but this experiment did not reach production status. The Swallow had already reached its limited development potential.
Since the Supermarine Spitfire had in the meantime proven its worth and promised a much bigger development potential, production of the Avro Swallow already ceased in late 1942 after 435 aircraft had been built. Around the same time, the Swallow was quickly phased out from front-line service, too.
Several machines were retained as trainers, messenger aircraft or instructional airframes. 20 late production Mk. IIs were sold to the Irish Air Corps, and a further 50 aircraft were sent to Canada as advanced fighter trainers, where they served until the end of the hostilities in 1945.
General characteristics:
Crew: 1
Length: 8.57 m (28 ft 1 in)
Wingspan: 10.85 m (35 ft 7 in)
Height: 2.60 m (8 ft 6 in)
Wing area: 17.00 m² (183 ft²)
Empty weight: 1,690 kg (3,726 lb)
Gross weight: 2,200 kg (4,850 lb)
Powerplant:
1× Rolls-Royce Merlin III liquid-cooled V-12, rated at 1,310 hp (977 kW) at 9,000 ft (2,700 m)
Performance:
Maximum speed: 371 mph (597 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m)
Range: 320 miles (515 km)
Service ceiling: 36,000 ft (10,970 m)
Rate of climb: 2,780 ft/min (14.1 m/s)
Wing loading: 29.8 lb/ft² (121.9 kg/m²)
Power/mass: 0.15 hp/lb (0.25 kW/kg)
Armament:
8× 0.303” (7,7mm) Browning machine guns with 350 RPG in the outer wings
The kit and its assembly:
Another entry to the Battle of Britain Group Build at whatifmodelers.com, and this time a collaboration. This fictional machine – or better: the model – is based on a 2D profile conceived by fellow forum member nighthunter: an Avia B.135, outfitted with a Merlin engine, a ventral radiator in the style of a Hawker Hurricane, and carrying RAF markings.
Since I had a spare B.35 sans engine left over from the recent Fokker D.XXIII conversion, I used the opportunity to take the virtual design to the hardware stage!
The basis is a vintage KP Models kit of the early B.35 fighter with a fixed landing gear. It’s a sleek and pretty aircraft, but the kit’s quality is rather so-so. Details are good, you get a mix of engraved and raised surface details, but fit is mediocre and there is lots of flash. But, with some effort, things can be mended.
Many donation parts for the Swallow, including the engine, propeller, landing gear and radiator, come from an AZ Models Spitfire Mk. I/II/V, from a recently bought Joy Pack which comes with three of these kits without decals.
New landing gear wells had to be drilled into the massive lower wing halves. Since the original Swallow profile did not indicate the landing gear design, I went for an inward-retracting solution, using parts from an early Spitfire. Due to the oil cooler in one of the wing roots, though, the stance ended up a little wide… The Merlin fitted very well onto the B.35 fuselage, and, inside of the cockpit, I added a tank behind the seat in order to fill the OOB void there.
Another internal change I made is the installation of my trademark propeller adapter: a styrene tube inside of the fuselage that holds a long metal axis with the propeller, so that it can spin freely.
Painting and markings:
Very conservative, but IMHO a good match for this fictional fighter: Standard RAF colors in Dark Green/Dark Earth (both enamels from the Modelmaster Authentic line), nothing fancy, and I had the profile as benchmark for what I wanted to achieve. Since the plane is placed historically in August 1940, Sky was about to be introduced, but only gradually and sometimes with “different” tones. Therefore, I painted the underside with Humbrol 23, Duck Egg Blue, and also added roundels under the wings.
The code letters should have been Medium Sea Grey, but the profile showed white letters – so I stuck with that, and AFAIK there had been exceptions to the rule. The code letters came from an Xtradecal RAF white letter sheet. Roundels and fin flash come from various sources, including a Matchbox Brewster Buffalo and a Trumpeter P-40C. The serial number was improvised, too.
As personal markings I painted a green shamrock under the cockpit on port side, while a list of air combat scores came under the starboard cockpit side (in style with the original profile). A green ring on the spinner was added, too, inspired by the real world No. 1 Squadron’s JX-B, flown by Arthur Clowes. His machine carried a bee nose art and a yellow spinner ring: for every victory, the bee would receive a new stripe, and he achieved eight during his career.
Some light weathering and panel shading was done, as well as some light soot stains around the exhausts and the gun ports on the wings. Finally, everything sealed under a coat of matt acrylic varnish (Revell), which unfortunately turned white in some seams! :-/
The Avro Swallow looked already promising in nighthunter's profile, almost like a missing link between the sturdy Hurricane and the more glorious Spitfire.
A quick build, but a conversion that has to be kept in mind, because the result looks so convincing! Seeing the completed aircraft, I am amazed how good this thing looks overall, with its elegant, oval wings and the sleek fuselage lines. Nice one! :D
Fiberglass figures seen at Professor Cline's Haunted Monster Museum & Dark Maze, Natural Bridge, Virginia. June 9, 2011
April of 2021, fire would consume the entire property.
Located off Route 130 on Bell Tower Road where BTR dead ends in the woods
Burning roadside: Can Mark Cline rise again from the ashes?
By Hawes Spencer | hawesinsky@gmail.com
Published online 6:07am Wednesday May 23rd, 2012
and in print issue #1121 dated Thursday May 24th, 2012
A mid-April blaze demolished the Victorian-era mansion that served as the Haunted Monster Museum as well as the centerpiece of a bizzaro place called Dinosaur World where dinos would gobble Union soldiers and where brave visitors could also hunt Bigfoot with a "redneck." But the fire means no attractions this summer from Mark "Professor" Cline.
"We're gonna take a break this year," says Cline. "I just need more time to regroup."
Although the fiberglass dinos in the woods outside were saved, the Monster Museum was incinerated. The mechanical rats, the "Elvis-stein" monster, and the mighty fiberglass python that seemed to slither in and out of the second-story gable windows all went up in flames late on the afternoon of April 16.
During a next-day visit, the ruins are still smoldering when a State Police investigator shoos a reporter from the scene.
"This is Natural Bridge property," barks the officer, as Cline ushers the visitor away from the charred house.
"He was my dragon," laughs Cline, recalling the era when the future officer was a teenager piloting not a Crown Victoria but a lawn tractor and sporting a character costume at Cline's last attraction, the Enchanted Castle. In a still-unsolved 2001 fire, a blaze whose investigation (or lack thereof, as he alleges) still makes Cline bristle with anger, the Enchanted Castle went up in flames.
"I'd much rather have Barney Fife and Inspector Clousseau out here," says Cline, recalling how State Police investigators conducted interviews hinting that Cline himself had torched the Enchanted Castle, despite the fact that the Castle was uninsured, and that he lost his office, his studio, and all the irreplaceable 8-millimeter films he made as a boy.
"We've done a pile of work on that case," says George "Stick" Austin, the State Police captain overseeing that investigation, noting that it's standard procedure to interview owners. "It is still considered an active investigation."
As for the recent fire, it was an otherwise uneventful spring afternoon when Cline says he was on the grounds of his studio, where– with a small crew– he manufactures fiberglass figures for America's roadside playgrounds.
"I got a call at about 5:45 from the assistant general manager of Natural Bridge," says Cline. "I dropped everything and ran outside."
Cline pauses, looking mournfully down the highway in the direction of the smoldering ruins.
"I looked up and saw a plume of thick black smoke," he says, "and I knew immediately it was gone."
By the time Cline could speed the three miles south on Lee Highway, what may have started as a minor blaze on a stage at one end of the structure had become an engulfing inferno. Cline snapped a few photographs as the mansion cooked.
At the time of a reporter's visit 24 hours later, all that's left are a trio of chimneys and the front wall, executed in a rusticated gray limestone.
To 64-year-old Kilmarnock resident Ann Gill, whose grandparents owned and operated the structure as a hotel/antique shop called "Stonewall Lodge," it's a crushing blow.
"It was a romantic old home," says Gill. "My mother was married there."
In the years after Gill's family sold the structure in the 1950s, the Natural Bridge company eventually let the place go to seed, and by the 1980s the expansive front lawn had reverted to forest.
Cline says the abandoned house seemed creepy when, a decade ago, he approached the owner, Natural Bridge LLC, with his plan to haunt it. In 2002, he unveiled his Haunted Monster Museum there. Two years later, as an April Fool's prank, he built a full-size replica of Stonehenge called Foamhenge about a mile away.
The past two decades have been a tough time on traditional road-trip destinations. While Natural Bridge keeps attendance figures under wraps, educational places like Monticello and Colonial Williamsburg reveal numbers that have fallen from their peaks in the pre-Internet, pre-water-park era.
The venerable Homestead Resort just announced plans to put in a water park. Massanutten installed its water park in 2005.
As some may recall, there was a proposal in Charlottesville 20 years ago to give land to a steam train operator. But that was at least five hotels ago, before the Downtown Mall and myriad wineries erupted with enough critical mass to fill all the new lodgings.
Despite having what's been billed as the Seventh Wonder of the natural world, Natural Bridge has had no such luck. The town's newest hotel appears at least 50 years old. A pair of zoos, a cave, a wax museum, an Indian village, and a new indoor butterfly garden helped draw families off the Interstate, but it was Cline's humor/horror compound that drew national attention from roadside enthusiasts.
"It was a nice addition to our attractions and particularly popular with kids," says Natural Bridge general manager Debbie Land. "It's a total loss as they say in the insurance world."
It's a great loss to Kay Lera. A retiree from the San Francisco Bay Area who for nine years ran a B&B in her new hometown of Lexington, Lera notes how one man can make a difference.
"Natural Bridge has the beauty of the bridge and the caverns," says Lera, "but having some wacky humor incorporated into the scenario does make it a family destination."
So strong is the pull of Professor Cline that when an unassuming adult walks into the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke to ask what the Museum has to offer, the first words out of the front desk lady's mouth are these: "Well, Professor Cline is gone…"
We didn't even ask about Professor Cline, whose exhibition there had closed a couple of weeks earlier. But when a man hangs a fiberglass King Kong on the side of your museum and breaks attendance records with such twisted figures as the "Franken-chicken," people take notice.
Like the rest of us, Cline says he's now trying to face the prospect of a summer without his Monster Museum. He's seen an uptick in contract work, like the 13 men's room sinks he recently built for the Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying.
A couple of reality show producers have made inquiries about following him around.
Cline veers between "pissed off" anger at an unknown arsonist and the peace of knowing that nobody was killed or injured in the fire.
"We made a lot of magic there," says Cline, mulling the impermanence of his creations. "Even one day the great Pyramids of Egypt will be just dust in the wind. This might just be one of those messages from the universe saying it's time to move on."
+++ DISCLAIMER +++
Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based on historical facts. BEWARE!
Some background:
Due to increasing tensions in Europe which led to World War 2, AVRO Aircraft started developing combat aircraft, and as a subsidiary of Hawker, they had access to the Hurricane plans. At the time that the Hurricane was developed, RAF Fighter Command consisted of just 13 squadrons, each equipped with either the Hawker Fury, Hawker Demon, or the Bristol Bulldog – all of them biplanes with fixed-pitch wooden propellers and non-retractable undercarriages. After the Hurricane's first flight, Avro started working on a more refined and lighter aircraft, resulting in a similar if not higher top speed and improved maneuverability.
The result was Avro’s project 675, also known as the "Swallow". The aircraft was a very modern and lightweight all-metal construction, its profile resembled the Hawker Hurricane but its overall dimensions were smaller, the Swallow appeared more squatted and streamlined, almost like a race version. The wings were much thinner, too, and their shape reminded of the Supermarine Spitfire’s famous oval wings. Unlike the Spitfire, though, the Swallow’s main landing gear had a wide track and retracted inwards. The tail wheel was semi-retractable on the prototype, but it was replaced by a simpler, fixed tail wheel on production models.
The Swallow made its first flight on 30th December 1937 and the Royal Air Force was so impressed by its performance against the Hurricane that they ordered production to start immediately, after a few minor tweaks to certain parts of the aircraft had been made.
On 25 July 1939, the RAF accepted their first delivery of Avro Swallow Mk. Is. The first machines were allocated to No.1 Squadron, at the time based in France, where they were used in parallel to the Hurricanes for evaluation. These early machines were powered by a 1.030 hp (770 kW) Rolls-Royce Merlin Mk II liquid-cooled V-12, driving a wooden two-bladed, fixed-pitch propeller. The light aircraft achieved an impressive top speed of 347 mph (301 kn, 558 km/h) in level flight – the bigger and heavier Hurricane achieved only 314 mph (506 km/h) with a similar engine. Like the Hurricane, the Swallow was armed with eight unsynchronized 0.303 in (7.7 mm) Browning machine guns in the outer wings, outside of the propeller disc.
In spring 1940, Avro upgraded the serial production Swallow Mk.I's to Mk.IA standard: the original wooden propeller was replaced by a de Havilland or Rotol constant speed metal propeller with three blades, which considerably improved performance. Many aircraft were retrofitted with this update in the field workshops in the summer of 1940.
In parallel, production switched to the Swallow Mk. II: This new version, which reached the frontline units in July 1940, received an uprated engine, the improved Rolls-Royce Merlin III, which could deliver up to 1,310 hp (977 kW) with 100 octane fuel and +12 psi boost. With the standard 87 Octane fuel, engine performance did not improve much beyond the Merlin II's figures, though. A redesigned, more streamlined radiator bath was mounted, too, and altogether these measures boosted the Swallow’s top speed to 371 mph (597 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m). This was a considerable improvement; as a benchmark, the contemporary Hurricane II achieved only 340 mph (547 km/h).
However, several fundamental weak points of the Swallow remained unsolved: its limited range could not be boosted beyond 300 miles (500 km) and the light machine gun armament remained unchanged, because the Swallow’s thin wings hardly offered more space for heavier weapons or useful external stores like drop tanks. Despite these shortcomings, the pilots loved their agile fighter, who described the Swallow as an updated Hawker Fury biplane fighter and less as a direct competitor to the Hurricane.
Being a very agile aircraft, the Swallow Mk. II became the basis for a photo reconnaissance version, too, the PR Mk. II. This was not a true production variant of the Swallow, though, but rather the result of field modifications in the MTO where fast recce aircraft were direly needed. The RAF Service Depot at Heliopolis in Egypt had already converted several Hurricanes Is for photo reconnaissance duties in January 1941, and a similar equipment update was developed for the nimble Swallow, too, despite its limited range.
The first five Swallow Mk. IIs were modified in March 1941 and the machines were outfitted with a pair of F24 cameras with 8-inch focal length lenses in the lower rear fuselage, outwardly recognizable through a shallow ventral fairing behind the cooler. Some PR Mk. IIs (but not all of them) were also outfitted with dust filters, esp. those machines that were slated to operate in Palestine and Northern Africa. For night operations some PR Mk. IIs also received flame dampers (which markedly reduced the engine’s performance and were quickly removed again) or simpler glare shields above the exhaust stacks.
The machines quickly proved their worth in both day and night reconnaissance missions in the Eastern Mediterranean theatre of operations, and more field conversions followed. Alternative camera arrangements were developed, too, including one vertical and two oblique F24s with 14-inch focal length lenses. More Swallow Mk. IIs were converted in this manner in Malta during April (six) and in Egypt in October 1941 (four). A final batch, thought to be of 12 aircraft, was converted in late 1941.
Even though the Swallow PR Mk. IIs were initially left armed with the wing-mounted light machine guns, many aircraft lost their guns partly or even fully to lighten them further. Most had their wing tips clipped for better maneuverability at low altitudes, a feature of the Swallow Mk. III fighter that had been introduced in August 1941. Some machines furthermore received light makeshift underwing shackles for photoflash bombs, enabling night photography. These were not standardized, though, a typical field workshop donor were the light bomb shackles from the Westland Lysander army co-operation and liaison aircraft, which the Swallow PR Mk. IIs partly replaced. These allowed a total of four 20 lb (9.1 kg) bombs or flash bombs for night photography to be carried and released individually through retrofitted manual cable pulls. The mechanisms were simply mounted into the former machine gun bays and the pilot could release the flash bombs sequentially through the former gun trigger.
For duties closer to the front lines a small number of Swallow PR Mk. IIs were further converted to Tactical Reconnaissance (Tac R) aircraft. An additional radio was fitted for liaison with ground forces who were better placed to direct the aircraft, and the number of cameras was reduced to compensate for the gain of weight.
However, by 1942, the Swallow had already reached its limited development potential and became quickly outdated in almost any aspect. Since the Supermarine Spitfire had in the meantime been successfully introduced and promised a much bigger development potential, production of the Avro Swallow already ceased in late 1942 after 435 aircraft had been built. Around the same time, the Swallows were quickly phased out from front-line service, too. Several machines were retained as trainers, messenger aircraft or instructional airframes. 20 late production Mk. IIs were sold to the Irish Air Corps, and a further 50 aircraft were sent to Canada as advanced fighter trainers, where they served until the end of the hostilities in 1945.
General characteristics:
Crew: 1
Length: 28 ft 1 in (8.57 m)
Wingspan: 33 ft 7 in (10.25 m)
Height: 8 ft 6 in (2.60 m)
Wing area: 153 ft² (16.40 m²)
Empty weight: 3,722 lb (1,720 kg)
Gross weight: 5,100 lb (2,315 kg)
Powerplant:
1× Rolls-Royce Merlin III liquid-cooled V-12, rated at 1,310 hp (977 kW) at 9,000 ft (2,700 m)
Performance:
Maximum speed: 381 mph (614 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m)
Range: 360 miles (580 km)
Service ceiling: 36,000 ft (10,970 m)
Rate of climb: 2,780 ft/min (14.1 m/s)
Wing loading: 29.8 lb/ft² (121.9 kg/m²)
Power/mass: 0.15 hp/lb (0.25 kW/kg)
Armament:
No internal guns
2x underwing hardpoints for a pair of 19-pound (8.6 kg) photoflash bombs each
The kit and its assembly:
This is the third incarnation of a whif that I have built some time ago for a Battle of Britain Group Build at whatifmodellers.com. This fictional machine – or better: its model – is based on a profile drawing conceived by fellow forum member nighthunter: an Avia B.135, outfitted with a Merlin engine, a ventral radiator in the style of a Hawker Hurricane, and with RAF markings. It was IIRC a nameless design, so that I created my own for it: the Avro 675 Swallow, inspired by the bird's slender wing and body that somehow resonates in the clean B.35 lines (at least for me).
I’ve already built two of these fictional aircraft as early WWII RAF fighters, but there was still potential in the basic concept – primarily as a canvas for the unusual livery (see below). The basis became, once again, the vintage KP Models B.35 fighter with a fixed landing gear. It’s a sleek and pretty aircraft, but the kit’s quality is rather so-so (the molds date back to 1974). Details are quite good, though, especially on the exterior, you get a mix of engraved and raised surface details. But the kit’s fit is mediocre at best, there is lots of flash and the interior is quite bleak. But, with some effort, things can be mended.
Many donation parts for the Swallow, beyond the Merlin engine, propeller and (underwing) radiator, and pitot, were taken in this case from a Revell 1:72 Spitfire Mk. V. Inside of the cockpit I used more Spitfire donor material, namely the floor, dashboard, seat and rear bulkhead/headrest with a radio set. The blurry, single-piece canopy was cut into three pieces for optional open display on the ground, but this was not a smart move since the material turned out to be very thin and, even worse, brittle – cracks were the unfortunate result.
New landing gear wells had to be carved out of the massive lower wing halves. Since the original drawn Swallow profile did not indicate the intended landing gear design, I went for an inward-retracting solution, using parts from the Spitfire and just mounted them these “the other way around”. Due to the oil cooler in one of the wing roots, though, the stance ended up a little wide, but it’s acceptable and I stuck to this solution as I already used it on former Swallow builds, too. But now I know why the real-world B.135 prototype had its landing gear retract outwards – it makes more sense from an engineering point of view.
The Merlin fitted very well onto the B.35 fuselage, diameter and shape are a very good match, even though there’s a small gap to bridge – but that’s nothing that could not be mended with a bit of 2C putty and PSR. A styrene tube inside of the donor engine holds a styrene pipe for a long metal axis with the propeller, so that it can spin freely. The large chin fairing for a dust filter is a transplant from an AZ Models Spitfire, it helps hide the ventral engine/fuselage intersection and adds another small twist to this fictional aircraft. From the same source came the exhaust stacks, Revell’s OOB parts are less detailed and featured sinkholes, even though the latter would later hardly be recognizable.
With the dust filter the Swallow now looks really ugly in a side view, it has something P-40E-ish about it, and the additional bulge behind the radiator for the cameras (certainly not the best place, but the PR Hurricanes had a similar arrangement) does not make the profile any better!
Further small mods include anti-glare panels above and behind the exhaust stacks (simple 0.5 mm styrene sheet), and the small underwing flash bombs were scratched from styrene profile material.
Painting and markings:
The livery was the true motivation to build this model, as a canvas to try it out: Long ago I came across a very interesting Hawker Hurricane camouflage in a dedicated book about this type, a simple all-over scheme in black blue, also known as “Bosun Blue”, together with very limited and toned-down markings. As far as I could find out this livery was used in the Middle East and later in India, too, for nighttime photo reconnaissance missions.
However, defining this color turned out to be very difficult, as I could not find any color picture of such an aircraft. I guess that it was not a defined color, but rather an individual field mix with whatever was at hand – probably roundel blue and black? Therefore, I mixed the obscure Bosun Blue myself, even though this took some sorting out and experiments. I initially considered pure Humbrol 104 (Oxford Blue) but found it to have a rather reddish hue. FS 35042 (USN Sea Blue) was rejected, too, because it was too greenish, even with some black added. I eventually settled on a mix of Humbrol 15 (Midnight Blue) and 33 (Flat Black), which appeared as a good compromise and also as a very dark variant of a cyan-heavy blue tone.
The cockpit interior and the inside of the landing gear wells were painted with RAF cockpit green (Humbrol 78), while the landing gear struts became aluminum (Humbrol 56) – pretty standard.
The decals/markings were puzzled together from various sources. Using a real-world RAF 208 Squadron MTO night photography Hurricane as benchmark I gave the aircraft a light blue individual code letter (decals taken from the Revell Spitfire Mk. V's OOB sheet, which has the letters’ Sky tone totally misprinted!). The spinner was painted in the same tone, mixed individually to match the letter.
Markings were apparently generally very limited on these machines, e. g. they did not carry any unit letter code) and the Type B roundels only on fuselage and upper wings. The latter were improvised, with wacky Type B-esque roundels from a Falkland era Sea Harrier placed on top of RAF roundels with yellow edges. The sources I consulted were uncertain whether these rings were yellow, white, or maybe even some other light color, but I went for yellow as it was the RAF's markings standard. Looks odd, but also pretty cool, esp. with the Type B roundels’ slightly off proportions.
The subdued two-color fin flash on the dark aircraft was/is unusual, too, and following real world practice on some PR Hurricanes I added a thin white edge for better contrast. The small black serial on a white background, as if it was left over from an overpainted former fuselage band, came from a Latvian Sopwith Camel (PrintScale sheet); in RAF service N8187 would have been used during the pre-WWII period and therefore a plausible match for the Swallow, even though it belongs to a batch of RN aircraft (It would probably have been a Fairey Fulmar)..
No black ink washing was applied to the model due to its dark overall color, just the cockpit and the landing gear were treated this way. Some light weathering and panel shading was done all over, and soot stains as well as light grey “heat-bleached” areas due to lean combustion around the exhausts were painted onto the fuselage. Finally, everything was sealed under a coat of matt acrylic varnish (Italeri) and wire antennae (stretched sprue material) were added.
A simple project, realized in a couple of days – thanks to the experience gathered during former builds of this fictional aircraft. However, the Avro Swallow looked already promising in nighthunter's original profile, almost like a missing link between the sturdy Hurricane and the more glorious Spitfire. The result looks very convincing, and the all-blue livery suits the aircraft well! . At first glance, the Swallow looks like an early Spitfire, but then you notice the different wings, the low canopy and the shorter but deeper tail. You might also think that it was a travestied Yak-3 or LaGG aircraft, but again the details don’t match, it’s a quite subtle creation.
I am amazed how good this thing looks overall, with its elegant, slender wings and the sleek fuselage lines – even though the dust filter and the camera fairing strongly ruin the side profile. Maybe another one will join my RAF Swallow collection someday, this time in Irish Air Corps colors.
Famous staircase in Loretto Chapel Santa Fe New Mexico.
Built without center support and no nails.
"Two mysteries surround the spiral staircase in the Loretto Chapel: the identity of its builder and the physics of its construction.
When the Loretto Chapel was completed in 1878, there was no way to access the choir loft twenty-two feet above. Carpenters were called in to address the problem, but they all concluded access to the loft would have to be via ladder as a staircase would interfere with the interior space of the small Chapel.
Legend says that to find a solution to the seating problem, the Sisters of the Chapel made a novena to St. Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters. On the ninth and final day of prayer, a man appeared at the Chapel with a donkey and a toolbox looking for work. Months later, the elegant circular staircase was completed, and the carpenter disappeared without pay or thanks. After searching for the man (an ad even ran in the local newspaper) and finding no trace of him, some concluded that he was St. Joseph himself, having come in answer to the sisters' prayers.
The stairway's carpenter, whoever he was, built a magnificent structure. The design was innovative for the time and some of the design considerations still perplex experts today.
The staircase has two 360 degree turns and no visible means of support. Also, it is said that the staircase was built without nails—only wooden pegs. Questions also surround the number of stair risers relative to the height of the choir loft and about the types of wood and other materials used in the stairway's construction.
Over the years many have flocked to the Loretto Chapel to see the Miraculous Staircase. The staircase has been the subject of many articles, TV specials, and movies including "Unsolved Mysteries" and the television movie titled "The Staircase."
A simple device added to nearly all 727s to prevent a repeat of the airborne escape made by "Dan Cooper"
Part of 727-22 N7001U
Museum of Flight
Seattle, Washington
1972 US FAA Notice of Proposed Rulemaking (NPRM):
rgl.faa.gov/Regulatory_and_Guidance_Library/rgNPRM.nsf/2e...
No-longer current FAA regulation addressed by the "Cooper Vane:"
rgl.faa.gov/Regulatory_and_Guidance_Library/rgFAR.nsf/0/4...
"Cooper Vane" (Wikipedia):
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cooper_vane
More about D.B. Cooper and his legacy:
www.aerotime.aero/rytis.beresnevicius/24238-db-cooper-story
Museum of Flight (Museum web site):
St Mary, Aldham, Suffolk
I pass this church often. Traffic rushes along the busy Ipswich to Sudbury road not far off, but there is a quieter, parallel road which not many people seem to know about. It leaves Ipswich via Bramford, and you can get all the way to Sudbury on it, taking in the likes of Burstall, Kersey and Waldingfield on the way. Aldham as a village is little more than a straggle of houses, but they lie along this road, and just beyond a cluster of houses you take a sudden turn to the left, on to a pretty track to Aldham Hall. Down through fruit trees you descend, until the walls become older, and there at the end are the farm buildings. Beyond them, is this pretty church.
If the church is pretty, the view from it is doubly so - to the south, the land drops away alarmingly, into a valley full of sheep. You may even think you recognise it, and you could well be right, for the second season of the popular TV series The Detectorists was filmed here, as a small display in the porch of the church reminds you. The church appeared in the opening credits of each programme, the two main characters searching for buried treasure in Aldham Vale below the churchyard.
This is lovely, and splendidly English. Nothing could be more peaceful. But beyond, the land rises to a dark sea of trees, the mysteriously named Wolves Wood, now an RSPB reserve. Looking along to the right, the other hilltop is where the Protestant preacher Roland Taylor was burned at the stake in the 1550s, a site of pilgrimage for his many American descendants - and, more unhappily, for extremist protestants. Ian Paisley, the late former leader of the Democratic Ulster Unionists, was a regular visitor. Whatever your reading of the English Reformation, Taylor's burning was a terrible event. One imagines the villagers gathered outside this church, watching the flames and smoke rise.
I remembered the first time I came here, back in the 1990s. We arrived on one of those humid, overcast summer days, on our way to the Bildeston Beer Festival. My young children scattered off to play hide and seek with their mother in the precipitous graveyard. An elderly man was pottering about, looking at 19th century graves, so I apologised for my family (as you do). But he seemed genuinely pleased that they were running about like mad things. He was tracing his family, and had come down from Norfolk to look for a particular grave of an ancestor. And he'd found it. He was pretty pleased about that, too. He was also following up a theory that his ancestor had been a Rector of this parish. His address had been Aldham Rectory. Did I have any idea how he could find out? I suggested that the church might have a board of 'Rectors of this Parish'. Many do. These are a pleasant Victorianism, intended to overcome the 16th century breach by claiming a history of the CofE that extended back before the Reformation. We could go inside, and take a look. And we did - the church was militantly open, the inner door wedged wide. We found the board - but the name wasn't there. So, the mystery remained unsolved.
This church was derelict by the mid 19th century, and underwent a fairly late restoration, in 1883. The tower was rebuilt, as was the south wall of the nave. The roofs were replaced, giving an overwhelmingly Victorian appearance - although Mortlock detected the Norman, and possibly Saxon, ancestor. The hill itself suggests a very early foundation, perhaps on a site of pagan worship.
The architect was W. M. Fawcett, and there was another restoration of the inside in the early 20th century under the eyes of diocesan architect and renowned antiquarian H Munro Cautley. The resulting interior is one of those neat and shiny jobs that is certainly grand, and pleasant enough, but rather dated now. Our early 21st Century spirituality seems to respond more to dusty, ancient interiors than to these Victorian ritualisations. But I had a sense of a church that is much loved, well-cared for, and used regularly.
And that is still so today. Now, Aldham parish have gone one further than a wedged-open door, and a big sign has been erected at the bottom of the lane proclaiming that Our Church is Always Open, and so it is easy to step into its prayerful interior. And it is not without its medieval survivals, a couple of which are fascinating. For a start, there is the chancel, with its original roof, some fine windows, and a piscina in the sanctuary. But best of all are two bench ends. These are unlike anything else I've seen in Suffolk, and their primitive quality suggests a local origin. The one to the west apparently shows a bear, or possibly a lion. My first impulse was that it was some kind of heraldic device, but on reflection I thought differently. Note the shaved off object it holds in its mouth. And is the pattern emerging from beneath the head really fur? Back in 1999, my six year old took one look at it and decided that the creature isn't eating the bird, but the bird is flying out of its mouth. Could it be a dove? And could the three objects issuing from beneath the head actually be tongues of fire? In which case, could this be some strange composition representing Pentecost, and the descent of the Holy Spirit?
In the spandrel above the bear, or whatever it is, there is a lily, the symbol of the Annunciation. But it is also a symbol of the crucifixion. It calls to mind the rare lily crucifixes, of which just two are known to survive in Suffolk, at Long Melford and Great Glemham. Could this be an unrecorded third? The other bench end is probably easier to read. The crown is obvious enough. The star and crescent are familiar from representations of the crucifixion. The pike is a familiar instrument of the Passion. And, if you look in the spandrel above, you'll see a crown of thorns, so this may well be a composition representing the Passion.
A third bench end, to the east, shows just a simple spiked tool, that looks as if it might have been used in thatching. So, what's it all about? They are all a bit of a mystery, really. Coming back in 2019 I found no obvious or easy answers to offer.
And what of the font? This is mysterious too. It appears to be Norman, but a second glance finds it too elegant, too finely detailed. The pillars are almost Classical in design, and the whole piece has a touch of the 18th century about it. Was it brought here from somewhere else in the 1880s? Or is it a Victorian recutting of a Norman predecessor? Whatever, the revealed brickwork of the late medieval tower arch looks most fitting behind it. The doors are, presumably, part of the 1930s interior restoration - indeed, they have a touch of Cautley about them.
To see Cautley's work in its full glory, step up into the chancel, for the reredos and flanking niches. It looks like something out of a French cathedral. Cautley was usually a safe pair of hands in these churches he loved so well, but I wonder what he had been thinking to impose this triumphalism on this pretty little country church. Alfred Wilkinson's contemporary glass above it suits it well, but even so it is rather hard to imagine the same thing happening today. Postdating it by a couple of decades is a set of arms for Elizabeth II above the south doorway. Unusual, East Anglia has no more than half a dozen sets, and these ones are rather good.
Standing in the nave and looking east, the splendour of the reredos imposing itself on our view, it is hard to imagine the real glory that once was here. But John Nunn contacted me, to tell me about a will he has a copy of. In 1525, his ancestor Robert Clifford declared: I bequeath I will have the rood there upon the candlebeam set up higher and Mary & John and two new angels and the breast under the rood korvyn and when that is done I will have all this painted and guilt whatsoever the cost. I will have bought two standards of brass stand in the choir and I will my executors bestow therein 40/-. I will my executors shall buy four candlesticks of brass for the candlebeam, I give six kine unto the church of Aldham to keep my obit with as long as the world stand.
What does all this mean? Firstly, you have to remember that England was a devoutly Catholic country in 1525, and the fittings of the church were for the actions of the Catholic liturgy. In the late 15th and early 16th centuries, all Suffolk churches had a rood in place. This was a representation of the crucifixion, set above the chancel arch. On the left hand side of the cross always stood the Virgin Mary, and on the other side stood St John. Often, the wall behind was painted. The rood either hung on the wall, or was supported by a beam. However, there was always a beam that ran below it for candles to be lit on. This was called the candlebeam, or rood beam. The candles were placed on it by individuals or gilds as part of the process of prayer - particularly prayer for the souls of the dead. A rood loft ran beside it for access, and the space beneath was infilled with a rood screen. To make the rood even more glorious, the roof above was panelled, and the panels were painted blue, with gold stars, and perhaps Marian monograms. This was called the canopy of honour, or more simply, the coving (rendered delightfully in Suffolk dialect as Korvyn above.)
Robert Clifford was paying for a simple rood to be made more glorious. He was going to have it placed higher, with a new canopy of honour. He was paying for brass candlesticks to replace wooden candlestocks.
Why? Simply, the medieval economy of grace depended upon the living praying for the dead, and the dead praying for the living. In donating glorious things to his church, Clifford was ensuring that he would be remembered. The roodscreen would have a dedicatory inscription with his name on. He was saying - I won't forget you, don't you forget me. The Catholic liturgy formalised prayers for the dead in the form of obit masses.These were said on the anniversary of someone's death in perpetuity. The proceeds of the sale of the six cows (kine) would be invested, probably in land to be rented, to pay a priest to say these masses - as long as the world shall stand; that is, for ever.
Unfortunately, 'for ever' didn't last very long. Prayers for the dead were declared illegal by the protestant reformers in the late 1530s. By 1547, every single rood in the land had been toppled and burned. The rood lofts were hacked down, along with many of the candle beams (although about ten beams survive in Suffolk) and most of the rood screens were also destroyed (about 50 survive in Suffolk).
Nothing of Robert Clifford's gifts survive at Aldham. All the gilt would have been stripped, the brass candlesticks melted down, and the proceeds sequestered by the King's commissioners. The collected glory of all the churches of England was squandered by Henry VIII on high living, and on the expensive and pointless siege of Boulogne. A sad thought.
When I first came here in 1999, I remember the graveyard was full of wild thyme and especially sorrel, which we gathered in handfuls and ate later in the day with fresh trout and new potatoes. Twenty years have passed since then, and it was too early for the sorrel this year. Instead I just stood, and looked out across the gentle valley, the sheep cropping their way slowly westward. It was easy to recognise the opening of The Detectorists in the vale below. And I looked beyond to Wolves Wood, and the site of Roland Taylor's martyrdom. Hard to imagine such history happening to such a modest little parish.
Theme Borrowed from the mystery novel:
Tread softly into the Darkness.
Subtit“Folle est la brebis qui au loup se confesse!”le:
*************************************
He had just walked out of the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge, when he felt a hand placed upon his shoulder, and a whiff of perfume. From behind his back came a soft feminine voice with a slight Yank drawl.
Excuse me sir, can I ask you do me the kindness of a favor? He turned, looking down into the most enchanting pair of smiling blue eyes. He beamed into her worried face, watching with pleasure as she gave him a timid smile back. If I am able mi-lady he honestly answered, deciding in a split second that this damsel was indeed was in a bit of distress, as his sharp grey eyes wolfishly drank her image in.
Her long blond hair was held up in back held in back, secured by a pair of twin diamond clips that erupted out expensive glitters in a fierce storm of intense colours as she moved her head. Her ears were home to a set of dangling diamond earrings that sparkled expensively, beckoningly, as they attracted interest to her face. She was quite nice-looking, in a mousey sort of way, her appearance helped by the flattering longish hunters green gown she wore: a long soft velvet skirt with a tight glossy satin bodice. Her gloveless hands and wrists were bare of any jewel to take away notice from her face. She had a black satin cape draped over one arm, along with a pair of green velvet gloves held tightly in one hand, along with a rhinestone clasped clutch matching her gown. As a movie producer, the man had learned that first impressions mean everything, and that for one as busy as himself, he needed to garner as much info as he could from them. He could tell this one wanted to ask him something, and seemed nervous about the proposal.
This is rather awkward she said, her eyes becoming large like a frightened kitten, but my date sort of left with someone else, and I realized that I have to walk to my car alone. I tried to ask one of the staff, but he just laughed in my face. Her lips drooped at this last part. Then I saw you leaving, and was hoping…. Her voice trailed off meekly.
He was surprised, he had just thought she had recognized him and was going to ask for an autograph, so much for his ego he reasoned. And his heart was touched by the wretchedness of this poor creature too scared to venture out into the parking lot alone, albeit, it did have very poor lighting he reasoned as he spoke in answer to her plea. He studied her for a few seconds, the look of hope in her face reaching out to him. No, he thought in a fatherly manner, as his eyes watched her dangling diamond earrings, A timid creature like this should not be out walking alone. Any thief in the area would zero in on her and her expensive finery like a honey drone to the flower. This is what he thought, what he said was:
Well, I wasn’t leaving, rather actually just heading upstairs to meet up with my wife, but with a smile, added that he would be most honored to escort the young lady out. Taking her arm and he lead her towards the main lobby. American he asked? Montana she admitted sweetly, the nasally lisping twang of her western accent endearingly gripped the producer, who had a well-known fondness for American westerns.
At the door he helped her on with her wrap, she faced him, her eyes brimming with gratitude. She reached up and stroked the side of his face; you’re a dear for doing this! You really are! She hugged him tightly, her warm figure feeling quite nice against his, as he felt her beating heart. As she started to slowly put on her long soft gloves, He made the mistake of asking how she ended up here in England? Ten minutes later she was still going strong in her story, standing on the spot and showing no sign of moving. He finally had to gently take her by the arm guide her out the door to her destination, as the talkative enchantress kept on with her story, never missing a beat.
He led her happily across the roundabout and along the path to the lot. Her car, a red roadster, was parked at the very furthest end. They reached it, and he opened the door for her, she threw her satin cape in the back, and Just before getting in she reached out, and with a gleam in her eyes, gave him another all-encompassing embrace. Ohh thank you, kind sir she cried happily, and breaking away, entered the car and started the engine roaring to life. He closed the door and watched as she drove away, giving him a wave as she turned the corner going out onto the road that bordered the park that surrounded the civic center-hotel complex.
He turned and walked back towards the lobby. Whistling to himself as he thought about his good deed completed for the rather charming damsel in distress. Out of habit he started to check his W &D Rolex Timepiece. Damn he said, missing it as he felt his silk vest pockets, damn It ! , I must have lost it in the lounge. He headed back there immediately, losing all thought of the charming young lady from Montana he had just left.
20 minutes earlier
In the bar of the Ballroom located 2 floors below the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge where a certain well-known movie producer was just finishing his cigar and brandy before venturing out and running into a certain petite Blonde form Montana.
A man outfitted as a waiter, coming out of a side corridor, enters the massive Ballroom. For a second, as he leaves the darkened corridor, he is blinded by the bright lights and dazzling displays laid out ever so appealingly before him.
A lady clad in a flowing, glittering gown, her neck, ears , wrist, and fingers laden with brite rubies, swayed past him, eyeing him indignantly as she did so. “Folle est la brebis qui au loup se confesse”, he thought to himself as he watched her swish away.
Then he continued looking around, letting it all soak in for a few tantalizing seconds, before spying the rather regal looking lady, holding herself every bit as the film star she was. Wearing a long satin strapless number that looked as though it had been poured over her figure, it fitted her that tightly. She was drinking by a long oak bar that took up one whole end of the mammoth, brightly lit room.
He walked up to her; thankfully she was alone, although it really would not have made any difference, only less likely for her to become hysterical without an audience to watch. He laid a hand upon her bare shoulder; she looked contemptuously at him, with the red bloodshot eyes of one who had been to freely imbibing of the house liquor. Pardon my interruption miss ( she liked being called that, he could see) but I’m afraid your husband has met with a small mishap. She looked into his eyes with her deep grey ones, he sensed she was possibly not all that alarmed by his statement. If you will come with me, I will take you to the ambulance that has been called for him. With a small flourish she sat her glass down. She picked up a shimmering jeweled purse that matched her gown up from the finely polished oak bar. He watched as her multiple rings flashing brilliantly as they rippled in the light. One ring in particular captured his notice, a large egg shaped diamond that emitted a peculiarly yellow light as it flashed from her ring finger. In a swirl of satin, the lady turned and followed him willingly enough to the back corridor. Only upon reaching it did she start to question him as to what on earth had happened, hiding her concern incredibly well he thought, wondering if indeed she was hiding anything.
Stopping to collect her wrap, a long Russian mink, he led her downstairs and to a side exit. This is a short cut he explained, as he held the door opened for him. She passed him, her hells clicking, gown whisper along the stone pathway outside. Just through these woods and around the corner he directed her as she headed off, with him keeping pace closely behind.
20 minutes later
The red roadster jarred to a stop along the, deserted, dark wooded road: causing the dangling earrings of the female driver to sparkle dimly in the moons light. She killed the round head lights and waited patiently, all sign of the worry and helplessness she had displayed earlier replaced by a coolly calm demeanor.
She looked around, her green gown shimmering in the bright moons light. Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie , she whispered to herself, her voice losing its western drawl completely.
Reaching up she undid the expensive clips, and pulled off the wind swept yellow wig. Undoing her long , naturally flaming blood red coloured hair, she let it down, spilling down ever so like hot molten lava over the backside of her green satin gown, and along her well defined breasts, tightly outlined by the hunter’s green satin bodice in front. She then popped out the blue tinted contacts, her naturally green eyes shining with wicked pleasures in the moon lit car. She tossed both the wig and the contacts into the woods. She sat back in her seat with a contented little sigh, and prepared to wait it out.
She reached down and opened a man’s alligator billfold and casually started leafing through it. Then she heard it, her head raised up as her ears perked…. an owl’s hoot came from off in the distance inside the black woods. She unceremoniously threw the wallet down and restarted the engine. From those woods emerged the shadowy form of a male, wearing the white shirt, white tux and black pants of a staff servant for the nearby posh complex. He opened the passenger door, threw a heavy shiny bundle into the rumble seat and jumping over the door, climbed into the seat next to her. He leaned over and happily, deeply kissed the lady driver, and settled back contentedly as she gave gas to the motor, sending the engine racing before driving leisurely off.
He turned to her, wolfishly eyeballing the pretty lady driving the roadster. How did you make out my love, he asked his sweet wife. The red headed siren in green satin began speaking in her native dialect, decidedly not an American one. Her deep Irish brogue rolled the words along her tongue as she related how her part of the scheme had carried out.
Well Husband of mine ; after stalling him as long as He let me, I relieved him of both his fancy watch, and a wallet with over three hundred pounds she remarked triumphantly. Adding happily as she looked into his grinning face, it looks like you did pretty well yourself lover! She glanced at the bundle in the seat behind her, lying on top of a blanket, which concealed a pair of suitcases.
The mink and gown was a bonus he admitted. But I relieved the lady of her purse and jewels as planned stated wryly. All of her jewels she asked, licking her lips as if savoring some recent memory of the lady in question; which she in reality was, have had the opportunity to scope her out in the ballroom before attending the movie star’s husband.
All of them, right down to the last diamond pinky ring. Any troubles she asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. None he smirked, snaking a hand around her silky waist. He broke into an impersonation of the American actor Bogart: Darling, the dame never knew what hit her! He reached in the back and started to hide the bundle away out of obvious site.
But why her gown, she enquired, why chance taking the time?. It was your size he stated. Not hardly she snorted at him, but thank you for the compliment my love. So, did you have a reason other than wanting to get kicks from seeing a half-naked movie star, she teased poking him in the side.
Actually, my love, there was a method to my madness, he retorted. I knew that with her vanity, she will wait to find a way to somehow clothe herself before going into public to scream bloody murder about losing her jewels. And, we have the beacon for our efforts he said, grinning wickedly.
Excited by his words, she started to speed up a little. He squeezed his arm around her slippery slick waist, no need to hurry love, he told her in a comfortingly reassuring manner. We have plenty of time to make the morning ferry to the city of Douglas.
Once there, would they have time to freshen up before meeting with the mysterious dark skinned man with the heavy accent who was the acting intermediary willing to pay them the balance of the 25,000 pounds upon receipt of the yellowish looking , vulgarly large, diamond ring that a certain actress had been displaying for a time that evening.
Postscript:
In the early years of the Nazi regime, the Wellesley’s, a well-known Jewish family , possessed a Large yellow tinted diamond known as the Harwicke Beacon. It was the center stone of a magnificent necklace. The jewel was said to bring fortune to whomever had it in their possession. Although it had not been living up to its reputation for the family, once wealthy, had fallen upon hard times. Then to compound their misfortunes, the had to leave the family manor and flee to Switzerland under pressure from the Nazi political machine. They were caught, and the necklace was taken just as the border to freedom was in sight. They had been betrayed by a mysterious dark skinned informant from another country.
the Harwicke Beacon was believed to have been one of the occult relics sought by the Nazis to test and see if the mysterious powers could be harnessed for the good of the war effort.
Its whereabouts currently unknown, the Harwicke Beacon’s reappearance in today’s world may prove a vital clue to the treasure trove of similar occult related items( both religious and non) that were hidden by the Himmler during the collapse of Nazi Germany…..
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“Folle est la brebis qui au loup se confesse!”
(Silly is the sheep who to the wolf confesses)
Répétrer dans les ténèbres.
Tread softly into the Darkness.
Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .
Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.
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These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website..
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British postcard in the Colourgraph Series, London, no. C 401. Photo: Universal.
American actor Robert Stack (1919-2003) became a star as Deanne Durbin's young lover in Henry Koster's First love (1939). After the war, he had massive success with Douglas Sirk's drama Written on the Wind (1956) for which he was nominated for the Oscar. Internationally, he became famous as Elliot Ness in the TV series The Untouchables (1959-1963).
Robert Stack was born Charles Langford Modini Stack in Los Angeles, in 1919. His first name, selected by his mother, was changed to Robert by his father, a professional soldier Robert was the grandson of Marina Perrini, an opera singer at the Scala theatre in Milan. When little Robert was five, his father was transferred to the US embassy in France. Robert went to school in Paris and learnt French rather than his mother tongue. At 11, he returned to America, and at 13, he became a top athlete. His brother and he won the International Outboard Motor Championships, in Venice, Italy, and at age 16, he became a member of the All-American Skeet Team. He played polo, saxophone and clarinet at Southern California University. A broken wrist ended his career as a sports athlete. He took drama classes and made his stage debut at 20. He joined Universal Studios in 1939. In his first film, he starred as Deanne Durbin's young lover in First love (Henry Koster, 1939). He gave the teenage film star her first on-screen kiss. Around this "event," Universal producer Joe Pasternak provided a lot of publicity. Stack established himself as an actor and the following year he appeared as a young Nazi in The Mortal Storm (Frank Borzage, 1940) alongside Margaret Sullavan and James Stewart. Stack was reunited with Durbin in Pasternak's musical Nice Girl? (William A. Seiter, 1941). In 1942 he appeared as a Polish Air Force pilot in Ernst Lubitsch's comedy To Be or Not to Be (1942) starring Carole Lombard and Jack Benny. The plot concerns a troupe of actors in Nazi-occupied Warsaw who use their acting abilities to fool the occupying troops. The film has become recognised as a comedy classic. Stack played another pilot in Eagle Squadron (Arthur Lubin, 1942), a huge hit. Then Stack's career was interrupted by military service. He did duty as a gunnery instructor in the United States Navy during World War II.
After World War II, Robert Stack continued his career. He returned to the screen with roles in films such as Fighter Squadron (Raoul Walsh, 1948) with Edmond O'Brien and A Date with Judy (Richard Thorpe, 1948) with Elizabeth Taylor. In 1952 Stack starred in Bwana Devil (Arch Oboler, 1952), the first major film production in 3D. He played the second leading role alongside John Wayne in William A. Wellman's aviation drama It's Always Day (1954). Sam Fuller cast him in the lead of House of Bamboo (1955), shot in Japan. Stack enjoyed one of his greatest successes with Douglas Sirk's drama Written in the Wind (1956). He received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of the alcoholic playboy Kyle Hadley. From the late 1950s Stack turned increasingly to television. Internationally, Robert became famous with his role in the television series The Untouchables in which he starred as the clean-cut Chicago police officer Eliot Ness during the Prohibition era. Around 120 episodes were made between 1959 and 1963. Other leading roles followed for Stack in the television series The Name of the Game (1968-1971), Most Wanted (1976) and Strike Force (1981). The multilingual Stack also took the lead role in the German-language film Die Hölle von Macao/The Hell of Macau (James Hill, 1966) alongside Elke Sommer, and he also appeared in French- or Italian-language productions. With advancing age, Stack also frequently took on deadpan comedy roles that lampooned his dramatic on-screen persona in films such as 1941 (Steven Spielberg, 1979), Airplane! (Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker, 1980) or Caddyshack II (Allan Arkush, 1988). Between 1987 and 2002 he was the host of the television series Unsolved Mysteries, which was dedicated to mysterious murder cases. He worked as an actor until his death. In 1956 he married actress Rosemarie Bowe (1932-2019), to whom he was married until the end of his life. The couple had two children. Robert Stack died of pneumonia in 2003 in Beverly Hills at the age of 84 and was buried in Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery.
Sources: Wikipedia (Dutch, German and English) and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
I am essentially an introvert, though having been in business for many years where I met with people on their turf and related to them face-to-face changed that... I am now what I refer to as a broken introvert. I’m still not one much for crowds or parties, though I can hold my own if necessary... but I do love interacting with people that don't exact too much energy from me.! It causes problems though. “You saved 89 cents,” the cashier tells me at the store. Then I hear myself say, “I just spent 50 dollars... I didn’t save a darn thing!” When my darlin’ and I are obviously the only ones waiting to be seated at the restaurant, we’re often hit with “Two for dinner?” To me, this just begs for a response... “Four, if you’re cross-eyed.” They usually take about two steps before it hits them... and then they burst out laughing. When the hostess asks my name, I give her a stern look, followed with this: “My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the armies of the north, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant of the true Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife… and I will have my revenge… in this life or the next.” If you pull that off within earshot of others waiting around, it's like you've won the Oscar. What I really love, however, are situations like this: I walked into a sock outlet store, and yes, I mean just socks. After greeting me, the clerk told me that she would be happy to answer any question. Any question? I didn’t miss a beat... “What color are pandas? If a rooster lays an egg on your roof, which pitches east and west, with wind blowing from north to south, which way will the egg fall? Who said E=mc2?” You know, the typical questions anyone should have. Of course, I’m just playing, and often these folks become friends and go out of their way for me. Questions can be fun.
My getaways to recharge away from the crowds often look like this. Scenes like this don’t come often enough for me. When they do, however, they also plead for a response... mine is usually the question of how best to frame the beauty of it in the viewfinder... and be quick about it. These scenes are always ephemeral at best. To do that, I must first be able to recognize beauty for what it is. Like many of you, I am more interested in the essence of things... I want to evoke the mystery, power, and majesty of this world... for me, it’s nothing less than a reflection of the God who created it. He made us creators too, He just created from nothing... we must be content to create from the fabric of that creation... and what a fabric we have to choose from! There seems to be a great mystery of how such an intangible as the atmosphere can, at times, be seen as quite concrete. This is Price Lake along the Blue Ridge Parkway, which is often quite pretty, but the sky steals the show here. Physicists have determined that of the forces and material that entered the Universe at the "Big Bang", it included 10 to the 89th power (Flickr font doesn’t allow for scientific notation superscript) photons, many of which seem to create that shaft of light... they were emitted by the Sun, and covered the distance of 93,000,000 miles in a mere 8 minutes and 20 seconds, just in time for this. See, I understand the scientific aspect, but there’s still the question of how we determine the beauty of it.
Many moons ago, I stood on the deck of Roan Mountain overlooking the Roan Rhododendron Gardens, disappointed that the blooms there were too far past peak to make it worth taking a single shot. The ridges up to Grassy, only a few miles distant and nearly the same elevation, had been stunning. I had burned through several rolls of film in just one area along the trail at Grassy, but no matter where I positioned the tripod on that deck, no great image popped out at me. Using professional film forces one to become a better photographer, because it’s too expensive for mere snapshots. You need to get it right the first time to be effective. What I was peering at through the viewfinder wasn’t even “snapshot” worthy in my opinion. As I was loading up my gear to leave, an elderly man started across the ramp pushing his wife along in a wheelchair. They were a friendly pair, both obviously well along in their eighties. They were astounded with the beauty of the place. Beauty? If they had seen what I had just returned from on Grassy Ridge, they would know something of beauty. Regardless, they went on and on about their feelings of how beautiful the gardens were and told me of other places they had been throughout their lives to compare. It wasn’t long before I began to see the scenery through their eyes... the grandeur of only a few miles away along that rough trail, that they would never see in this life, mattered not at all in that moment.
It’s not a long walk back to the parking lot from there for a healthy person, but it’s an uphill grade most of the way. I worried that he might have trouble getting her back to their vehicle, so I lingered with them. I was going to offer my assistance, but something about his manner stopped me… it seemed clear that this was for him to do only. It wasn’t his duty… it was his sacrifice. Along the way, she asked if I knew the names of the wildflowers we stumbled upon, and they would stop and discuss it at length. I think she did this as much for her concern for his stress of tending to her as anything else. I pointed out bluets, columbine, aster, and wild geranium, trifling information in contrast to what they imparted: insight to a lifelong love. It was a devotion they had for each other that emanated from within them. There was hardly a word said to make it known, but it was evident. I last saw them as he loaded her wheelchair into their car and secured her in her seat. I never once heard her fuss about it all. She was reliant on him, but he didn’t seem to mind… likely, because he had spent a lifetime of reliance on her. They had not only suffered the ravages of old age, they had suffered for each other through their struggles… but that’s what love compels us to do, even when life is hard. There is an intangible wonder in that that leads to the very definition of beauty. I wondered what it would be like to love someone for a lifetime like that. I decided I lacked the lifetime to know.
What a testimony to a great love… and a great desire. We all recognize a sacred love when we see it, and we long for it… but what makes such a love so evident isn’t merely what lays on the surface. What makes it so unmistakable are its boundaries… there are lines that commitment will not cross, because when they are crossed, it ceases to be love. That remarkable couple were in the twilight of what time God had allotted them to this earth. Yet in that time, their lives had culminated to an understanding: there is an exclusivity and reverence that when physically expressed gives a language to love. This is love that doesn’t become stale or forgotten; it gains new ground each and every day. There’s a mystery to it. Problems seek answers, but mysteries demand more. As is often the case with mysteries, the questioner becomes the object of the question. Flying to the moon is a problem merely to overcome. Falling in love is a mystery… how can we recognize the beauty of it unless that beauty isn’t already intrinsic with us? As Ecclesiastes 3:11 states, “He has also set eternity in the hearts of men”, a piece of God Himself. Until we understand that kind of love, we will never understand why it can’t be programmed. Nor, for that matter, will we ever grasp the true nature of evil. From worship flows this kind of love. That’s why God did not make us in such a way as to only choose good. It is not goodness we are called to, but worship. Jesus didn’t just say, “Love the Lord your God.” He described it as a posture that integrated mind, heart, and soul. When that kind of love is expressed to God, every other love finds its cue. And it begins when we realize that this journey along the road to redemption isn’t one we take by ourselves… a broken and contrite heart is all that’s required of us to know that.
As expressed in this photo, love can be seen as an intangible, but it is not... in its greatest expression, it reaches out and touches every heart. Mystery solved... but, there are three mysteries here as yet unsolved... pandas are black and white, but neither black nor white are colors, so pandas have no color. If you’re concerned for that egg, you’re no farmer... roosters don’t lay eggs. And as far as who said E=mc2... well, I just did!
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beamish_Museum
Beamish Museum is the first regional open-air museum, in England, located at Beamish, near the town of Stanley, in County Durham, England. Beamish pioneered the concept of a living museum. By displaying duplicates or replaceable items, it was also an early example of the now commonplace practice of museums allowing visitors to touch objects.
The museum's guiding principle is to preserve an example of everyday life in urban and rural North East England at the climax of industrialisation in the early 20th century. Much of the restoration and interpretation is specific to the late Victorian and Edwardian eras, together with portions of countryside under the influence of industrial revolution from 1825. On its 350 acres (140 ha) estate it uses a mixture of translocated, original and replica buildings, a large collection of artefacts, working vehicles and equipment, as well as livestock and costumed interpreters.
The museum has received a number of awards since it opened to visitors in 1972 and has influenced other living museums. It is an educational resource, and also helps to preserve some traditional and rare north-country livestock breeds.
History
Genesis
In 1958, days after starting as director of the Bowes Museum, inspired by Scandinavian folk museums, and realising the North East's traditional industries and communities were disappearing, Frank Atkinson presented a report to Durham County Council urging that a collection of items of everyday history on a large scale should begin as soon as possible, so that eventually an open air museum could be established. As well as objects, Atkinson was also aiming to preserve the region's customs and dialect. He stated the new museum should "attempt to make the history of the region live" and illustrate the way of life of ordinary people. He hoped the museum would be run by, be about and exist for the local populace, desiring them to see the museum as theirs, featuring items collected from them.
Fearing it was now almost too late, Atkinson adopted a policy of "unselective collecting" — "you offer it to us and we will collect it." Donations ranged in size from small items to locomotives and shops, and Atkinson initially took advantage of a surplus of space available in the 19th-century French chateau-style building housing the Bowes Museum to store items donated for the open air museum. With this space soon filled, a former British Army tank depot at Brancepeth was taken over, although in just a short time its entire complement of 22 huts and hangars had been filled, too.
In 1966, a working party was established to set up a museum "for the purpose of studying, collecting, preserving and exhibiting buildings, machinery, objects and information illustrating the development of industry and the way of life of the north of England", and it selected Beamish Hall, having been vacated by the National Coal Board, as a suitable location.
Establishment and expansion
In August 1970, with Atkinson appointed as its first full-time director together with three staff members, the museum was first established by moving some of the collections into the hall. In 1971, an introductory exhibition, "Museum in the Making" opened at the hall.
The museum was opened to visitors on its current site for the first time in 1972, with the first translocated buildings (the railway station and colliery winding engine) being erected the following year. The first trams began operating on a short demonstration line in 1973. The Town station was formally opened in 1976, the same year the reconstruction of the colliery winding engine house was completed, and the miners' cottages were relocated. Opening of the drift mine as an exhibit followed in 1979.
In 1975 the museum was visited by the Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother, and by Anne, Princess Royal, in 2002. In 2006, as the Grand Master of the United Grand Lodge of England, The Duke of Kent visited, to open the town masonic lodge.
With the Co-op having opened in 1984, the town area was officially opened in 1985. The pub had opened in the same year, with Ravensworth Terrace having been reconstructed from 1980 to 1985. The newspaper branch office had also been built in the mid-1980s. Elsewhere, the farm on the west side of the site (which became Home Farm) opened in 1983. The present arrangement of visitors entering from the south was introduced in 1986.
At the beginning of the 1990s, further developments in the Pit Village were opened, the chapel in 1990, and the board school in 1992. The whole tram circle was in operation by 1993.[8] Further additions to the Town came in 1994 with the opening of the sweet shop and motor garage, followed by the bank in 1999. The first Georgian component of the museum arrived when Pockerley Old Hall opened in 1995, followed by the Pockerley Waggonway in 2001.
In the early 2000s two large modern buildings were added, to augment the museum's operations and storage capacity - the Regional Resource Centre on the west side opened in 2001, followed by the Regional Museums Store next to the railway station in 2002. Due to its proximity, the latter has been cosmetically presented as Beamish Waggon and Iron Works. Additions to display areas came in the form of the Masonic lodge (2006) and the Lamp Cabin in the Colliery (2009). In 2010, the entrance building and tea rooms were refurbished.
Into the 2010s, further buildings were added - the fish and chip shop (opened 2011)[28] band hall (opened 2013) and pit pony stables (built 2013/14) in the Pit Village, plus a bakery (opened 2013) and chemist and photographers (opened 2016) being added to the town. St Helen's Church, in the Georgian landscape, opened in November 2015.
Remaking Beamish
A major development, named 'Remaking Beamish', was approved by Durham County Council in April 2016, with £10.7m having been raised from the Heritage Lottery Fund and £3.3m from other sources.
As of September 2022, new exhibits as part of this project have included a quilter's cottage, a welfare hall, 1950s terrace, recreation park, bus depot, and 1950s farm (all discussed in the relevant sections of this article). The coming years will see replicas of aged miners' homes from South Shields, a cinema from Ryhope, and social housing will feature a block of four relocated Airey houses, prefabricated concrete homes originally designed by Sir Edwin Airey, which previously stood in Kibblesworth. Then-recently vacated and due for demolition, they were instead offered to the museum by The Gateshead Housing Company and accepted in 2012.
Museum site
The approximately 350-acre (1.4 km2) current site, once belonging to the Eden and Shafto families, is a basin-shaped steep-sided valley with woodland areas, a river, some level ground and a south-facing aspect.
Visitors enter the site through an entrance arch formed by a steam hammer, across a former opencast mining site and through a converted stable block (from Greencroft, near Lanchester, County Durham).
Visitors can navigate the site via assorted marked footpaths, including adjacent (or near to) the entire tramway oval. According to the museum, it takes 20 minutes to walk at a relaxed pace from the entrance to the town. The tramway oval serves as both an exhibit and as a free means of transport around the site for visitors, with stops at the entrance (south), Home Farm (west), Pockerley (east) and the Town (north). Visitors can also use the museum's buses as a free form of transport between various parts of the museum. Although visitors can also ride on the Town railway and Pockerley Waggonway, these do not form part of the site's transport system (as they start and finish from the same platforms).
Governance
Beamish was the first English museum to be financed and administered by a consortium of county councils (Cleveland, Durham, Northumberland and Tyne and Wear) The museum is now operated as a registered charity, but continues to receive support from local authorities - Durham County Council, Sunderland City Council, Gateshead Council, South Tyneside Council and North Tyneside Council. The supporting Friends of Beamish organisation was established in 1968. Frank Atkinson retired as director in 1987. The museum has been 96% self-funding for some years (mainly from admission charges).
Sections of the museum
1913
The town area, officially opened in 1985, depicts chiefly Victorian buildings in an evolved urban setting of 1913.
Tramway
The Beamish Tramway is 1.5 miles (2.4 km) long, with four passing loops. The line makes a circuit of the museum site forming an important element of the visitor transportation system.
The first trams began operating on a short demonstration line in 1973, with the whole circle in operation by 1993.[8] It represents the era of electric powered trams, which were being introduced to meet the needs of growing towns and cities across the North East from the late 1890s, replacing earlier horse drawn systems.
Bakery
Presented as Joseph Herron, Baker & Confectioner, the bakery was opened in 2013 and features working ovens which produce food for sale to visitors. A two-storey curved building, only the ground floor is used as the exhibit. A bakery has been included to represent the new businesses which sprang up to cater for the growing middle classes - the ovens being of the modern electric type which were growing in use. The building was sourced from Anfield Plain (which had a bakery trading as Joseph Herron), and was moved to Beamish in the late 1970s and early 1980s. The frontage features a stained glass from a baker's shop in South Shields. It also uses fittings from Stockton-on-Tees.
Motor garage
Presented as Beamish Motor & Cycle Works, the motor garage opened in 1994. Reflecting the custom nature of the early motor trade, where only one in 232 people owned a car in 1913, the shop features a showroom to the front (not accessible to visitors), with a garage area to the rear, accessed via the adjacent archway. The works is a replica of a typical garage of the era. Much of the museum's car, motorcycle and bicycle collection, both working and static, is stored in the garage. The frontage has two storeys, but the upper floor is only a small mezzanine and is not used as part of the display.
Department Store
Presented as the Annfield Plain Industrial Co-operative Society Ltd, (but more commonly referred to as the Anfield Plain Co-op Store) this department store opened in 1984, and was relocated to Beamish from Annfield Plain in County Durham. The Annfield Plain co-operative society was originally established in 1870, with the museum store stocking various products from the Co-operative Wholesale Society (CWS), established 1863. A two-storey building, the ground floor comprises the three departments - grocery, drapery and hardware; the upper floor is taken up by the tea rooms (accessed from Redman Park via a ramp to the rear). Most of the items are for display only, but a small amount of goods are sold to visitors. The store features an operational cash carrier system, of the Lamson Cash Ball design - common in many large stores of the era, but especially essential to Co-ops, where customer's dividends had to be logged.
Ravensworth Terrace
Ravensworth Terrace is a row of terraced houses, presented as the premises and living areas of various professionals. Representing the expanding housing stock of the era, it was relocated from its original site on Bensham Bank, having been built for professionals and tradesmen between 1830 and 1845. Original former residents included painter John Wilson Carmichael and Gateshead mayor Alexander Gillies. Originally featuring 25 homes, the terrace was to be demolished when the museum saved it in the 1970s, reconstructing six of them on the Town site between 1980 and 1985. They are two storey buildings, with most featuring display rooms on both floors - originally the houses would have also housed a servant in the attic. The front gardens are presented in a mix of the formal style, and the natural style that was becoming increasingly popular.
No. 2 is presented as the home of Miss Florence Smith, a music teacher, with old fashioned mid-Victorian furnishings as if inherited from her parents. No. 3 & 4 is presented as the practice and home respectively (with a knocked through door) of dentist J. Jones - the exterior nameplate having come from the surgery of Mr. J. Jones in Hartlepool. Representing the state of dental health at the time, it features both a check-up room and surgery for extraction, and a technicians room for creating dentures - a common practice at the time being the giving to daughters a set on their 21st birthday, to save any future husband the cost at a later date. His home is presented as more modern than No.2, furnished in the Edwardian style the modern day utilities of an enamelled bathroom with flushing toilet, a controllable heat kitchen range and gas cooker. No. 5 is presented as a solicitor's office, based on that of Robert Spence Watson, a Quaker from Newcastle. Reflecting the trade of the era, downstairs is laid out as the partner's or principal office, and the general or clerk's office in the rear. Included is a set of books sourced from ER Hanby Holmes, who practised in Barnard Castle.
Pub
Presented as The Sun Inn, the pub opened in the town in 1985. It had originally stood in Bondgate in Bishop Auckland, and was donated to the museum by its final owners, the Scottish and Newcastle Breweries. Originally a "one-up one down" cottage, the earliest ownership has been traced to James Thompson, on 21 January 1806. Known as The Tiger Inn until the 1850s, from 1857 to 1899 under the ownership of the Leng family, it flourished under the patronage of miners from Newton Cap and other collieries. Latterly run by Elsie Edes, it came under brewery ownership in the 20th Century when bought by S&N antecedent, James Deuchar Ltd. The pub is fully operational, and features both a front and back bar, the two stories above not being part of the exhibit. The interior decoration features the stuffed racing greyhound Jake's Bonny Mary, which won nine trophies before being put on display in The Gerry in White le Head near Tantobie.
Town stables
Reflecting the reliance on horses for a variety of transport needs in the era, the town features a centrally located stables, situated behind the sweet shop, with its courtyard being accessed from the archway next to the pub. It is presented as a typical jobmaster's yard, with stables and a tack room in the building on its north side. A small, brick built open air, carriage shed is sited on the back of the printworks building. On the east side of the courtyard is a much larger metal shed (utilising iron roof trusses from Fleetwood), arranged mainly as carriage storage, but with a blacksmith's shop in the corner. The building on the west side of the yard is not part of any display. The interior fittings for the harness room came from Callaly Caste. Many of the horses and horse-drawn vehicles used by the museum are housed in the stables and sheds.
Printer, stationer and newspaper branch office
Presented as the Beamish Branch Office of the Northern Daily Mail and the Sunderland Daily Echo, the two storey replica building was built in the mid-1980s and represents the trade practices of the era. Downstairs, on the right, is the branch office, where newspapers would be sold directly and distributed to local newsagents and street vendors, and where orders for advertising copy would be taken. Supplementing it is a stationer's shop on the left hand side, with both display items and a small number of gift items on public sale. Upstairs is a jobbing printers workshop, which would not produce the newspapers, but would instead print leaflets, posters and office stationery. Split into a composing area and a print shop, the shop itself has a number of presses - a Columbian built in 1837 by Clymer and Dixon, an Albion dating back to 1863, an Arab Platen of c. 1900, and a Wharfedale flat bed press, built by Dawson & Son in around 1870. Much of the machinery was sourced from the print works of Jack Ascough's of Barnard Castle. Many of the posters seen around the museum are printed in the works, with the operation of the machinery being part of the display.
Sweet shop
Presented as Jubilee Confectioners, the two storey sweet shop opened in 1994 and is meant to represent the typical family run shops of the era, with living quarters above the shop (the second storey not being part of the display). To the front of the ground floor is a shop, where traditional sweets and chocolate (which was still relatively expensive at the time) are sold to visitors, while in the rear of the ground floor is a manufacturing area where visitors can view the techniques of the time (accessed via the arched walkway on the side of the building). The sweet rollers were sourced from a variety of shops and factories.
Bank
Presented as a branch of Barclays Bank (Barclay & Company Ltd) using period currency, the bank opened in 1999. It represents the trend of the era when regional banks were being acquired and merged into national banks such as Barclays, formed in 1896. Built to a three-storey design typical of the era, and featuring bricks in the upper storeys sourced from Park House, Gateshead, the Swedish imperial red shade used on the ground floor frontage is intended to represent stability and security. On the ground floor are windows for bank tellers, plus the bank manager's office. Included in a basement level are two vaults. The upper two storeys are not part of the display. It features components sourced from Southport and Gateshead
Masonic Hall
The Masonic Hall opened in 2006, and features the frontage from a former masonic hall sited in Park Terrace, Sunderland. Reflecting the popularity of the masons in North East England, as well as the main hall, which takes up the full height of the structure, in a small two story arrangement to the front of the hall is also a Robing Room and the Tyler's Room on the ground floor, and a Museum Room upstairs, featuring display cabinets of masonic regalia donated from various lodges. Upstairs is also a class room, with large stained glass window.
Chemist and photographer
Presented as W Smith's Chemist and JR & D Edis Photographers, a two-storey building housing both a chemist and photographers shops under one roof opened on 7 May 2016 and represents the growing popularity of photography in the era, with shops often growing out of or alongside chemists, who had the necessary supplies for developing photographs. The chemist features a dispensary, and equipment from various shops including John Walker, inventor of the friction match. The photographers features a studio, where visitors can dress in period costume and have a photograph taken. The corner building is based on a real building on Elvet Bridge in Durham City, opposite the Durham Marriot Hotel (the Royal County), although the second storey is not part of the display. The chemist also sells aerated water (an early form of carbonated soft drinks) to visitors, sold in marble-stopper sealed Codd bottles (although made to a modern design to prevent the safety issue that saw the original bottles banned). Aerated waters grew in popularity in the era, due to the need for a safe alternative to water, and the temperance movement - being sold in chemists due to the perception they were healthy in the same way mineral waters were.
Costing around £600,000 and begun on 18 August 2014, the building's brickwork and timber was built by the museum's own staff and apprentices, using Georgian bricks salvaged from demolition works to widen the A1. Unlike previous buildings built on the site, the museum had to replicate rather than relocate this one due to the fact that fewer buildings are being demolished compared to the 1970s, and in any case it was deemed unlikely one could be found to fit the curved shape of the plot. The studio is named after a real business run by John Reed Edis and his daughter Daisy. Mr Edis, originally at 27 Sherburn Road, Durham, in 1895, then 52 Saddler Street from 1897. The museum collection features several photographs, signs and equipment from the Edis studio. The name for the chemist is a reference to the business run by William Smith, who relocated to Silver Street, near the original building, in 1902. According to records, the original Edis company had been supplied by chemicals from the original (and still extant) Smith business.
Redman Park
Redman Park is a small lawned space with flower borders, opposite Ravensworth Terrace. Its centrepiece is a Victorian bandstand sourced from Saltwell Park, where it stood on an island in the middle of a lake. It represents the recognised need of the time for areas where people could relax away from the growing industrial landscape.
Other
Included in the Town are drinking fountains and other period examples of street furniture. In between the bank and the sweet shop is a combined tram and bus waiting room and public convenience.
Unbuilt
When construction of the Town began, the projected town plan incorporated a market square and buildings including a gas works, fire station, ice cream parlour (originally the Central Cafe at Consett), a cast iron bus station from Durham City, school, public baths and a fish and chip shop.
Railway station
East of the Town is the Railway Station, depicting a typical small passenger and goods facility operated by the main railway company in the region at the time, the North Eastern Railway (NER). A short running line extends west in a cutting around the north side of the Town itself, with trains visible from the windows of the stables. It runs for a distance of 1⁄4 mile - the line used to connect to the colliery sidings until 1993 when it was lifted between the town and the colliery so that the tram line could be extended. During 2009 the running line was relaid so that passenger rides could recommence from the station during 2010.
Rowley station
Representing passenger services is Rowley Station, a station building on a single platform, opened in 1976, having been relocated to the museum from the village of Rowley near Consett, just a few miles from Beamish.
The original Rowley railway station was opened in 1845 (as Cold Rowley, renamed Rowley in 1868) by the NER antecedent, the Stockton and Darlington Railway, consisting of just a platform. Under NER ownership, as a result of increasing use, in 1873 the station building was added. As demand declined, passenger service was withdrawn in 1939, followed by the goods service in 1966. Trains continued to use the line for another three years before it closed, the track being lifted in 1970. Although in a state of disrepair, the museum acquired the building, dismantling it in 1972, being officially unveiled in its new location by railway campaigner and poet, Sir John Betjeman.
The station building is presented as an Edwardian station, lit by oil lamp, having never been connected to gas or electricity supplies in its lifetime. It features both an open waiting area and a visitor accessible waiting room (western half), and a booking and ticket office (eastern half), with the latter only visible from a small viewing entrance. Adorning the waiting room is a large tiled NER route map.
Signal box
The signal box dates from 1896, and was relocated from Carr House East near Consett. It features assorted signalling equipment, basic furnishings for the signaller, and a lever frame, controlling the stations numerous points, interlocks and semaphore signals. The frame is not an operational part of the railway, the points being hand operated using track side levers. Visitors can only view the interior from a small area inside the door.
Goods shed
The goods shed is originally from Alnwick. The goods area represents how general cargo would have been moved on the railway, and for onward transport. The goods shed features a covered platform where road vehicles (wagons and carriages) can be loaded with the items unloaded from railway vans. The shed sits on a triangular platform serving two sidings, with a platform mounted hand-crane, which would have been used for transhipment activity (transfer of goods from one wagon to another, only being stored for a short time on the platform, if at all).
Coal yard
The coal yard represents how coal would have been distributed from incoming trains to local merchants - it features a coal drop which unloads railway wagons into road going wagons below. At the road entrance to the yard is a weighbridge (with office) and coal merchant's office - both being appropriately furnished with display items, but only viewable from outside.
The coal drop was sourced from West Boldon, and would have been a common sight on smaller stations. The weighbridge came from Glanton, while the coal office is from Hexham.
Bridges and level crossing
The station is equipped with two footbridges, a wrought iron example to the east having come from Howden-le-Wear, and a cast iron example to the west sourced from Dunston. Next to the western bridge, a roadway from the coal yard is presented as crossing the tracks via a gated level crossing (although in reality the road goes nowhere on the north side).
Waggon and Iron Works
Dominating the station is the large building externally presented as Beamish Waggon and Iron Works, estd 1857. In reality this is the Regional Museums Store (see below), although attached to the north side of the store are two covered sidings (not accessible to visitors), used to service and store the locomotives and stock used on the railway.
Other
A corrugated iron hut adjacent to the 'iron works' is presented as belonging to the local council, and houses associated road vehicles, wagons and other items.
Fairground
Adjacent to the station is an events field and fairground with a set of Frederick Savage built steam powered Gallopers dating from 1893.
Colliery
Presented as Beamish Colliery (owned by James Joicey & Co., and managed by William Severs), the colliery represents the coal mining industry which dominated the North East for generations - the museum site is in the former Durham coalfield, where 165,246 men and boys worked in 304 mines in 1913. By the time period represented by Beamish's 1900s era, the industry was booming - production in the Great Northern Coalfield had peaked in 1913, and miners were relatively well paid (double that of agriculture, the next largest employer), but the work was dangerous. Children could be employed from age 12 (the school leaving age), but could not go underground until 14.
Deep mine
Reconstructed pitworks buildings showing winding gear
Dominating the colliery site are the above ground structures of a deep (i.e. vertical shaft) mine - the brick built Winding Engine House, and the red painted wooden Heapstead. These were relocated to the museum (which never had its own vertical shaft), the winding house coming from Beamish Chophill Colliery, and the Heapstead from Ravensworth Park Mine in Gateshead. The winding engine and its enclosing house are both listed.
The winding engine was the source of power for hauling miners, equipment and coal up and down the shaft in a cage, the top of the shaft being in the adjacent heapstead, which encloses the frame holding the wheel around which the hoist cable travels. Inside the Heapstead, tubs of coal from the shaft were weighed on a weighbridge, then tipped onto jigging screens, which sifted the solid lumps from small particles and dust - these were then sent along the picking belt, where pickers, often women, elderly or disabled people or young boys (i.e. workers incapable of mining), would separate out unwanted stone, wood and rubbish. Finally, the coal was tipped onto waiting railway wagons below, while the unwanted waste sent to the adjacent heap by an external conveyor.
Chophill Colliery was closed by the National Coal Board in 1962, but the winding engine and tower were left in place. When the site was later leased, Beamish founder Frank Atkinson intervened to have both spot listed to prevent their demolition. After a protracted and difficult process to gain the necessary permissions to move a listed structure, the tower and engine were eventually relocated to the museum, work being completed in 1976. The winding engine itself is the only surviving example of the type which was once common, and was still in use at Chophill upon its closure. It was built in 1855 by J&G Joicey of Newcastle, to an 1800 design by Phineas Crowther.
Inside the winding engine house, supplementing the winding engine is a smaller jack engine, housed in the rear. These were used to lift heavy equipment, and in deep mines, act as a relief winding engine.
Outdoors, next to the Heapstead, is a sinking engine, mounted on red bricks. Brought to the museum from Silksworth Colliery in 1971, it was built by Burlington's of Sunderland in 1868 and is the sole surviving example of its kind. Sinking engines were used for the construction of shafts, after which the winding engine would become the source of hoist power. It is believed the Silksworth engine was retained because it was powerful enough to serve as a backup winding engine, and could be used to lift heavy equipment (i.e. the same role as the jack engine inside the winding house).
Drift mine
The Mahogany Drift Mine is original to Beamish, having opened in 1855 and after closing, was brought back into use in 1921 to transport coal from Beamish Park Drift to Beamish Cophill Colliery. It opened as a museum display in 1979. Included in the display is the winding engine and a short section of trackway used to transport tubs of coal to the surface, and a mine office. Visitor access into the mine shaft is by guided tour.
Lamp cabin
The Lamp Cabin opened in 2009, and is a recreation of a typical design used in collieries to house safety lamps, a necessary piece of equipment for miners although were not required in the Mahogany Drift Mine, due to it being gas-free. The building is split into two main rooms; in one half, the lamp cabin interior is recreated, with a collection of lamps on shelves, and the system of safety tokens used to track which miners were underground. Included in the display is a 1927 Hailwood and Ackroyd lamp-cleaning machine sourced from Morrison Busty Colliery in Annfield Plain. In the second room is an educational display, i.e., not a period interior.
Colliery railways
The colliery features both a standard gauge railway, representing how coal was transported to its onward destination, and narrow-gauge typically used by Edwardian collieries for internal purposes. The standard gauge railway is laid out to serve the deep mine - wagons being loaded by dropping coal from the heapstead - and runs out of the yard to sidings laid out along the northern-edge of the Pit Village.
The standard gauge railway has two engine sheds in the colliery yard, the smaller brick, wood and metal structure being an operational building; the larger brick-built structure is presented as Beamish Engine Works, a reconstruction of an engine shed formerly at Beamish 2nd Pit. Used for locomotive and stock storage, it is a long, single track shed featuring a servicing pit for part of its length. Visitors can walk along the full length in a segregated corridor. A third engine shed in brick (lower half) and corrugated iron has been constructed at the southern end of the yard, on the other side of the heapstead to the other two sheds, and is used for both narrow and standard gauge vehicles (on one road), although it is not connected to either system - instead being fed by low-loaders and used for long-term storage only.
The narrow gauge railway is serviced by a corrugate iron engine shed, and is being expanded to eventually encompass several sidings.
There are a number of industrial steam locomotives (including rare examples by Stephen Lewin from Seaham and Black, Hawthorn & Co) and many chaldron wagons, the region's traditional type of colliery railway rolling stock, which became a symbol of Beamish Museum. The locomotive Coffee Pot No 1 is often in steam during the summer.
Other
On the south eastern corner of the colliery site is the Power House, brought to the museum from Houghton Colliery. These were used to store explosives.
Pit Village
Alongside the colliery is the pit village, representing life in the mining communities that grew alongside coal production sites in the North East, many having come into existence solely because of the industry, such as Seaham Harbour, West Hartlepool, Esh Winning and Bedlington.
Miner's Cottages
The row of six miner's cottages in Francis Street represent the tied-housing provided by colliery owners to mine workers. Relocated to the museum in 1976, they were originally built in the 1860s in Hetton-le-Hole by Hetton Coal Company. They feature the common layout of a single-storey with a kitchen to the rear, the main room of the house, and parlour to the front, rarely used (although it was common for both rooms to be used for sleeping, with disguised folding "dess" beds common), and with children sleeping in attic spaces upstairs. In front are long gardens, used for food production, with associated sheds. An outdoor toilet and coal bunker were in the rear yards, and beyond the cobbled back lane to their rear are assorted sheds used for cultivation, repairs and hobbies. Chalkboard slates attached to the rear wall were used by the occupier to tell the mine's "knocker up" when they wished to be woken for their next shift.
No.2 is presented as a Methodist family's home, featuring good quality "Pitman's mahogany" furniture; No.3 is presented as occupied by a second generation well off Irish Catholic immigrant family featuring many items of value (so they could be readily sold off in times of need) and an early 1890s range; No.3 is presented as more impoverished than the others with just a simple convector style Newcastle oven, being inhabited by a miner's widow allowed to remain as her son is also a miner, and supplementing her income doing laundry and making/mending for other families. All the cottages feature examples of the folk art objects typical of mining communities. Also included in the row is an office for the miner's paymaster.[11] In the rear alleyway of the cottages is a communal bread oven, which were commonplace until miner's cottages gradually obtained their own kitchen ranges. They were used to bake traditional breads such as the Stottie, as well as sweet items, such as tea cakes. With no extant examples, the museum's oven had to be created from photographs and oral history.
School
The school opened in 1992, and represents the typical board school in the educational system of the era (the stone built single storey structure being inscribed with the foundation date of 1891, Beamish School Board), by which time attendance at a state approved school was compulsory, but the leaving age was 12, and lessons featured learning by rote and corporal punishment. The building originally stood in East Stanley, having been set up by the local school board, and would have numbered around 150 pupils. Having been donated by Durham County Council, the museum now has a special relationship with the primary school that replaced it. With separate entrances and cloakrooms for boys and girls at either end, the main building is split into three class rooms (all accessible to visitors), connected by a corridor along the rear. To the rear is a red brick bike shed, and in the playground visitors can play traditional games of the era.
Chapel
Pit Hill Chapel opened in 1990, and represents the Wesleyan Methodist tradition which was growing in North East England, with the chapels used for both religious worship and as community venues, which continue in its role in the museum display. Opened in the 1850s, it originally stood not far from its present site, having been built in what would eventually become Beamish village, near the museum entrance. A stained glass window of The Light of The World by William Holman Hunt came from a chapel in Bedlington. A two handled Love Feast Mug dates from 1868, and came from a chapel in Shildon Colliery. On the eastern wall, above the elevated altar area, is an angled plain white surface used for magic lantern shows, generated using a replica of the double-lensed acetylene gas powered lanterns of the period, mounted in the aisle of the main seating area. Off the western end of the hall is the vestry, featuring a small library and communion sets from Trimdon Colliery and Catchgate.
Fish bar
Presented as Davey's Fried Fish & Chip Potato Restaurant, the fish and chip shop opened in 2011, and represents the typical style of shop found in the era as they were becoming rapidly popular in the region - the brick built Victorian style fryery would most often have previously been used for another trade, and the attached corrugated iron hut serves as a saloon with tables and benches, where customers would eat and socialise. Featuring coal fired ranges using beef-dripping, the shop is named in honour of the last coal fired shop in Tyneside, in Winlaton Mill, and which closed in 2007. Latterly run by brothers Brian and Ramsay Davy, it had been established by their grandfather in 1937. The serving counter and one of the shop's three fryers, a 1934 Nuttal, came from the original Davy shop. The other two fryers are a 1920s Mabbott used near Chester until the 1960s, and a GW Atkinson New Castle Range, donated from a shop in Prudhoe in 1973. The latter is one of only two known late Victorian examples to survive. The decorative wall tiles in the fryery came to the museum in 1979 from Cowes Fish and Game Shop in Berwick upon Tweed. The shop also features both an early electric and hand-powered potato rumblers (cleaners), and a gas powered chip chopper built around 1900. Built behind the chapel, the fryery is arranged so the counter faces the rear, stretching the full length of the building. Outside is a brick built row of outdoor toilets. Supplementing the fish bar is the restored Berriman's mobile chip van, used in Spennymoor until the early 1970s.
Band hall
The Hetton Silver Band Hall opened in 2013, and features displays reflecting the role colliery bands played in mining life. Built in 1912, it was relocated from its original location in South Market Street, Hetton-le-Hole, where it was used by the Hetton Silver Band, founded in 1887. They built the hall using prize money from a music competition, and the band decided to donate the hall to the museum after they merged with Broughtons Brass Band of South Hetton (to form the Durham Miners' Association Brass Band). It is believed to be the only purpose built band hall in the region. The structure consists of the main hall, plus a small kitchen to the rear; as part of the museum it is still used for performances.
Pit pony stables
The Pit Pony Stables were built in 2013/14, and house the museum's pit ponies. They replace a wooden stable a few metres away in the field opposite the school (the wooden structure remaining). It represents the sort of stables that were used in drift mines (ponies in deep mines living their whole lives underground), pit ponies having been in use in the north east as late as 1994, in Ellington Colliery. The structure is a recreation of an original building that stood at Rickless Drift Mine, between High Spen and Greenside; it was built using a yellow brick that was common across the Durham coalfield.
Other
Doubling as one of the museum's refreshment buildings, Sinker's Bait Cabin represents the temporary structures that would have served as living quarters, canteens and drying areas for sinkers, the itinerant workforce that would dig new vertical mine shafts.
Representing other traditional past-times, the village fields include a quoits pitch, with another refreshment hut alongside it, resembling a wooden clubhouse.
In one of the fields in the village stands the Cupola, a small round flat topped brick built tower; such structures were commonly placed on top of disused or ventilation shafts, also used as an emergency exit from the upper seams.
The Georgian North (1825)
A late Georgian landscape based around the original Pockerley farm represents the period of change in the region as transport links were improved and as agriculture changed as machinery and field management developed, and breeding stock was improved. It became part of the museum in 1990, having latterly been occupied by a tenant farmer, and was opened as an exhibit in 1995. The hill top position suggests the site was the location of an Iron Age fort - the first recorded mention of a dwelling is in the 1183 Buke of Boldon (the region's equivalent of the Domesday Book). The name Pockerley has Saxon origins - "Pock" or "Pokor" meaning "pimple of bag-like" hill, and "Ley" meaning woodland clearing.
The surrounding farmlands have been returned to a post-enclosure landscape with ridge and furrow topography, divided into smaller fields by traditional riven oak fencing. The land is worked and grazed by traditional methods and breeds.
Pockerley Old Hall
The estate of Pockerley Old Hall is presented as that of a well off tenant farmer, in a position to take advantage of the agricultural advances of the era. The hall itself consists of the Old House, which is adjoined (but not connected to) the New House, both south facing two storey sandstone built buildings, the Old House also having a small north–south aligned extension. Roof timbers in the sandstone built Old House have been dated to the 1440s, but the lower storey (the undercroft) may be from even earlier. The New House dates to the late 1700s, and replaced a medieval manor house to the east of the Old House as the main farm house - once replaced itself, the Old House is believed to have been let to the farm manager. Visitors can access all rooms in the New and Old House, except the north–south extension which is now a toilet block. Displays include traditional cooking, such as the drying of oatcakes over a wooden rack (flake) over the fireplace in the Old House.
Inside the New House the downstairs consists of a main kitchen and a secondary kitchen (scullery) with pantry. It also includes a living room, although as the main room of the house, most meals would have been eaten in the main kitchen, equipped with an early range, boiler and hot air oven. Upstairs is a main bedroom and a second bedroom for children; to the rear (i.e. the colder, north side), are bedrooms for a servant and the servant lad respectively. Above the kitchen (for transferred warmth) is a grain and fleece store, with attached bacon loft, a narrow space behind the wall where bacon or hams, usually salted first, would be hung to be smoked by the kitchen fire (entering through a small door in the chimney).
Presented as having sparse and more old fashioned furnishings, the Old House is presented as being occupied in the upper story only, consisting of a main room used as the kitchen, bedroom and for washing, with the only other rooms being an adjoining second bedroom and an overhanging toilet. The main bed is an oak box bed dating to 1712, obtained from Star House in Baldersdale in 1962. Originally a defensive house in its own right, the lower level of the Old House is an undercroft, or vaulted basement chamber, with 1.5 metre thick walls - in times of attack the original tenant family would have retreated here with their valuables, although in its later use as the farm managers house, it is now presented as a storage and work room, housing a large wooden cheese press.[68] More children would have slept in the attic of the Old House (not accessible as a display).
To the front of the hall is a terraced garden featuring an ornamental garden with herbs and flowers, a vegetable garden, and an orchard, all laid out and planted according to the designs of William Falla of Gateshead, who had the largest nursery in Britain from 1804 to 1830.
The buildings to the east of the hall, across a north–south track, are the original farmstead buildings dating from around 1800. These include stables and a cart shed arranged around a fold yard. The horses and carts on display are typical of North Eastern farms of the era, Fells or Dales ponies and Cleveland Bay horses, and two wheeled long carts for hilly terrain (as opposed to four wheel carts).
Pockerley Waggonway
The Pockerley Waggonway opened in 2001, and represents the year 1825, as the year the Stockton and Darlington Railway opened. Waggonways had appeared around 1600, and by the 1800s were common in mining areas - prior to 1800 they had been either horse or gravity powered, before the invention of steam engines (initially used as static winding engines), and later mobile steam locomotives.
Housing the locomotives and rolling stock is the Great Shed, which opened in 2001 and is based on Timothy Hackworth's erecting shop, Shildon railway works, and incorporating some material from Robert Stephenson and Company's Newcastle works. Visitors can walk around the locomotives in the shed, and when in steam, can take rides to the end of the track and back in the line's assorted rolling stock - situated next to the Great Shed is a single platform for passenger use. In the corner of the main shed is a corner office, presented as a locomotive designer's office (only visible to visitors through windows). Off the pedestrian entrance in the southern side is a room presented as the engine crew's break room. Atop the Great Shed is a weather vane depicting a waggonway train approaching a cow, a reference to a famous quote by George Stephenson when asked by parliament in 1825 what would happen in such an eventuality - "very awkward indeed - for the coo!".
At the far end of the waggonway is the (fictional) coal mine Pockerley Gin Pit, which the waggonway notionally exists to serve. The pit head features a horse powered wooden whim gin, which was the method used before steam engines for hauling men and material up and down mineshafts - coal was carried in corves (wicker baskets), while miners held onto the rope with their foot in an attached loop.
Wooden waggonway
Following creation of the Pockerley Waggonway, the museum went back a chapter in railway history to create a horse-worked wooden waggonway.
St Helen's Church
St Helen's Church represents a typical type of country church found in North Yorkshire, and was relocated from its original site in Eston, North Yorkshire. It is the oldest and most complex building moved to the museum. It opened in November 2015, but will not be consecrated as this would place restrictions on what could be done with the building under church law.
The church had existed on its original site since around 1100. As the congregation grew, it was replaced by two nearby churches, and latterly became a cemetery chapel. After closing in 1985, it fell into disrepair and by 1996 was burnt out and vandalised leading to the decision by the local authority in 1998 to demolish it. Working to a deadline of a threatened demolition within six months, the building was deconstructed and moved to Beamish, reconstruction being authorised in 2011, with the exterior build completed by 2012.
While the structure was found to contain some stones from the 1100 era, the building itself however dates from three distinct building phases - the chancel on the east end dates from around 1450, while the nave, which was built at the same time, was modernised in 1822 in the Churchwarden style, adding a vestry. The bell tower dates from the late 1600s - one of the two bells is a rare dated Tudor example. Gargoyles, originally hidden in the walls and believed to have been pranks by the original builders, have been made visible in the reconstruction.
Restored to its 1822 condition, the interior has been furnished with Georgian box pews sourced from a church in Somerset. Visitors can access all parts except the bell tower. The nave includes a small gallery level, at the tower end, while the chancel includes a church office.
Joe the Quilter's Cottage
The most recent addition to the area opened to the public in 2018 is a recreation of a heather-thatched cottage which features stones from the Georgian quilter Joseph Hedley's original home in Northumberland. It was uncovered during an archaeological dig by Beamish. His original cottage was demolished in 1872 and has been carefully recreated with the help of a drawing on a postcard. The exhibit tells the story of quilting and the growth of cottage industries in the early 1800s. Within there is often a volunteer or member of staff not only telling the story of how Joe was murdered in 1826, a crime that remains unsolved to this day, but also giving visitors the opportunity to learn more and even have a go at quilting.
Other
A pack pony track passes through the scene - pack horses having been the mode of transport for all manner of heavy goods where no waggonway exists, being also able to reach places where carriages and wagons could not access. Beside the waggonway is a gibbet.
Farm (1940s)
Presented as Home Farm, this represents the role of North East farms as part of the British Home Front during World War II, depicting life indoors, and outside on the land. Much of the farmstead is original, and opened as a museum display in 1983. The farm is laid out across a north–south public road; to the west is the farmhouse and most of the farm buildings, while on the east side are a pair of cottages, the British Kitchen, an outdoor toilet ("netty"), a bull field, duck pond and large shed.
The farm complex was rebuilt in the mid-19th century as a model farm incorporating a horse mill and a steam-powered threshing mill. It was not presented as a 1940s farm until early 2014.
The farmhouse is presented as having been modernised, following the installation of electric power and an Aga cooker in the scullery, although the main kitchen still has the typical coal-fired black range. Lino flooring allowed quicker cleaning times, while a radio set allowed the family to keep up to date with wartime news. An office next to the kitchen would have served both as the administration centre for the wartime farm, and as a local Home Guard office. Outside the farmhouse is an improvised Home Guard pillbox fashioned from half an egg-ended steam boiler, relocated from its original position near Durham.
The farm is equipped with three tractors which would have all seen service during the war: a Case, a Fordson N and a 1924 Fordson F. The farm also features horse-drawn traps, reflecting the effect wartime rationing of petrol would have had on car use. The farming equipment in the cart and machinery sheds reflects the transition of the time from horse-drawn to tractor-pulled implements, with some older equipment put back into use due to the war, as well as a large Foster thresher, vital for cereal crops, and built specifically for the war effort, sold at the Newcastle Show. Although the wartime focus was on crops, the farm also features breeds of sheep, cattle, pigs and poultry that would have been typical for the time. The farm also has a portable steam engine, not in use, but presented as having been left out for collection as part of a wartime scrap metal drive.
The cottages would have housed farm labourers, but are presented as having new uses for the war: Orchard Cottage housing a family of evacuees, and Garden Cottage serving as a billet for members of the Women's Land Army (Land Girls). Orchard Cottage is named for an orchard next to it, which also contains an Anderson shelter, reconstructed from partial pieces of ones recovered from around the region. Orchard Cottage, which has both front and back kitchens, is presented as having an up to date blue enameled kitchen range, with hot water supplied from a coke stove, as well as a modern accessible bathroom. Orchard Cottage is also used to stage recreations of wartime activities for schools, elderly groups and those living with dementia. Garden Cottage is sparsely furnished with a mix of items, reflecting the few possessions Land Girls were able to take with them, although unusually the cottage is depicted with a bathroom, and electricity (due to proximity to a colliery).
The British Kitchen is both a display and one of the museum's catering facilities; it represents an installation of one of the wartime British Restaurants, complete with propaganda posters and a suitably patriotic menu.
Town (1950s)
As part of the Remaking Beamish project, with significant funding from the National Lottery Heritage Fund, the museum is creating a 1950s town. Opened in July 2019, the Welfare Hall is an exact replica of the Leasingthorne Colliery Welfare Hall and Community Centre which was built in 1957 near Bishop Auckland. Visitors can 'take part in activities including dancing, crafts, Meccano, beetle drive, keep fit and amateur dramatics' while also taking a look at the National Health Service exhibition on display, recreating the environment of an NHS clinic. A recreation and play park, named Coronation Park was opened in May 2022 to coincide with the celebrations around the Platinum Jubilee of Elizabeth II.
The museum's first 1950s terrace opened in February 2022. This included a fish and chip shop from Middleton St George, a cafe, a replica of Norman Cornish's home, and a hairdressers. Future developments opposite the existing 1950s terrace will see a recreation of The Grand Cinema, from Ryhope, in Sunderland, and toy and electricians shops. Also underdevelopment are a 1950s bowling green and pavilion, police houses and aged miner's cottages. Also under construction are semi-detached houses; for this exhibit, a competition was held to recreate a particular home at Beamish, which was won by a family from Sunderland.
As well as the town, a 1950s Northern bus depot has been opened on the western side of the museum – the purpose of this is to provide additional capacity for bus, trolleybus and tram storage once the planned trolleybus extension and the new area are completed, providing extra capacity and meeting the need for modified routing.
Spain's Field Farm
In March 2022, the museum opened Spain's Field Farm. It had stood for centuries at Eastgate in Weardale, and was moved to Beamish stone-by-stone. It is exhibited as it would have been in the 1950s.
1820s Expansion
In the area surrounding the current Pockerley Old Hall and Steam Wagon Way more development is on the way. The first of these was planned to be a Georgian Coaching Inn that would be the museum's first venture into overnight accommodation. However following the COVID-19 pandemic this was abandoned, in favour of self-catering accommodation in existing cottages.
There are also plans for 1820s industries including a blacksmith's forge and a pottery.
Museum stores
There are two stores on the museum site, used to house donated objects. In contrast to the traditional rotation practice used in museums where items are exchanged regularly between store and display, it is Beamish policy that most of their exhibits are to be in use and on display - those items that must be stored are to be used in the museum's future developments.
Open Store
Housed in the Regional Resource Centre, the Open Store is accessible to visitors. Objects are housed on racks along one wall, while the bulk of items are in a rolling archive, with one set of shelves opened, with perspex across their fronts to permit viewing without touching.
Regional Museums Store
The real purposes of the building presented as Beamish Waggon and Iron Works next to Rowley Station is as the Regional Museums Store, completed in 2002, which Beamish shares with Tyne and Wear Museums. This houses, amongst other things, a large marine diesel engine by William Doxford & Sons of Pallion, Sunderland (1977); and several boats including the Tyne wherry (a traditional local type of lighter) Elswick No. 2 (1930). The store is only open at selected times, and for special tours which can be arranged through the museum; however, a number of viewing windows have been provided for use at other times.
Transport collection
Main article: Beamish Museum transport collection
The museum contains much of transport interest, and the size of its site makes good internal transportation for visitors and staff purposes a necessity.
The collection contains a variety of historical vehicles for road, rail and tramways. In addition there are some modern working replicas to enhance the various scenes in the museum.
Agriculture
The museum's two farms help to preserve traditional northcountry and in some cases rare livestock breeds such as Durham Shorthorn Cattle; Clydesdale and Cleveland Bay working horses; Dales ponies; Teeswater sheep; Saddleback pigs; and poultry.
Regional heritage
Other large exhibits collected by the museum include a tracked steam shovel, and a coal drop from Seaham Harbour.
In 2001 a new-build Regional Resource Centre (accessible to visitors by appointment) opened on the site to provide accommodation for the museum's core collections of smaller items. These include over 300,000 historic photographs, printed books and ephemera, and oral history recordings. The object collections cover the museum's specialities. These include quilts; "clippy mats" (rag rugs); Trade union banners; floor cloth; advertising (including archives from United Biscuits and Rowntree's); locally made pottery; folk art; and occupational costume. Much of the collection is viewable online and the arts of quilting, rug making and cookery in the local traditions are demonstrated at the museum.
Filming location
The site has been used as the backdrop for many film and television productions, particularly Catherine Cookson dramas, produced by Tyne Tees Television, and the final episode and the feature film version of Downton Abbey. Some of the children's television series Supergran was shot here.
Visitor numbers
On its opening day the museum set a record by attracting a two-hour queue. Visitor numbers rose rapidly to around 450,000 p.a. during the first decade of opening to the public, with the millionth visitor arriving in 1978.
Awards
Museum of the Year1986
European Museum of the Year Award1987
Living Museum of the Year2002
Large Visitor Attraction of the YearNorth East England Tourism awards2014 & 2015
Large Visitor Attraction of the Year (bronze)VisitEngland awards2016
It was designated by the Museums, Libraries and Archives Council in 1997 as a museum with outstanding collections.
Critical responses
In responding to criticism that it trades on nostalgia the museum is unapologetic. A former director has written: "As individuals and communities we have a deep need and desire to understand ourselves in time."
According to the BBC writing in its 40th anniversary year, Beamish was a mould-breaking museum that became a great success due to its collection policy, and what sets it apart from other museums is the use of costumed people to impart knowledge to visitors, rather than labels or interpretive panels (although some such panels do exist on the site), which means it "engages the visitor with history in a unique way".
Legacy
Beamish was influential on the Black Country Living Museum, Blists Hill Victorian Town and, in the view of museologist Kenneth Hudson, more widely in the museum community and is a significant educational resource locally. It can also demonstrate its benefit to the contemporary local economy.
The unselective collecting policy has created a lasting bond between museum and community.
This 47 cents postage stamp was issued by America on 31 May 2016 (= Scott Catalogue # 5074). It shows Planet Saturn and is part of a set depicting all the planets of the Solar System.
There are four types of planets in the Solar System: terrestrial planets, gas giant planets, ice giant planets, and dwarf planets. The terrestrial planets are Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars. The gas giant planets are Jupiter and Saturn. The ice giant planets are Uranus and Neptune. Dwarf planets include named and unnamed objects - for example, Ceres, Pluto, Quaoar, Sedna, Eris, Varuna, Makemake, and many others. Only two dwarf planets have been visited and imaged (Ceres and Pluto).
Planet Saturn, the "Crown Jewel of the Solar System", has been visited four times from 1979 to 2017. Three visits were flybys by the Pioneer 11, Voyager 1, and Voyager 2 spacecrafts. The only orbiter to visit Saturn was the Cassini spacecraft.
Saturn is the 6th planet from the Sun (or the seventh, if one counts Ceres, which one should) and is about 9 to 10.1 astronomical units distance from the Sun. One astronomical unit ("AU") is the average distance between the center of the Sun and the center of the Earth. The eccentricity of Saturn's orbit is about 0.06 - its orbit is slightly non-circular. Saturn's rotation and orbit around the Sun are both prograde, which refers to counter-clockwise movement when viewed above the North Pole of the Sun.
Saturn is the # 2 largest planet in the Solar System - it is nine times larger than Earth. Saturn is one of the gas giant planets. Not surprisingly, it is similar to its larger neighbor, Jupiter. Neither world has a solid surface and neither world has traditional geologic features, such as mountains, rivers, volcanism, landslides, quakes, etc.
The equatorial radius of Saturn (= from the center to the core to the surface, arbitrarily defined as 1 bar of atmospheric pressure) is about 60,270 kilometers. The polar radius is about 54,360 kilometers. These numbers show that Saturn has a permanently flattened shape - it is noticeably wider at the equator. This is the result of its rapid spinning and its mostly fluid composition.
Saturn's density is about 0.69 grams per cubic centimeter, making it the lowest density planet in the Solar System - it is less dense than liquid water, which is 1 gram per cubic centimeter. The low density is a consequence of it being mostly composed of lightweight elements, hydrogen and helium.
One day on Saturn is about 10.5 hours - it rotates rapidly. One year on Saturn is about 29.5 Earth years - it takes about 10,759 days to go once around the Sun.
Unlike Jupiter, Saturn's spin axis is strongly tilted, at about 26.7 degrees from the vertical. Depending on its orbital position, this means that sometimes the upper surface of Saturn's rings are visible from Earth, and at other times, the underside of the rings are visible. The significant axial tilt results in strong seasonality. Each season on Saturn (spring, summer, fall, winter) is over seven years long.
As of this writing, Saturn has at least 274 known moons. Only seven of these satellites are large: Titan, Iapetus, Rhea, Tethys, Dione, Enceladus, and Mimas. Most moons are unnamed.
Saturn possesses a magnetic field that is generated by electrical currents in a moving metallic liquid hydrogen layer in the deep interior. The internal layers of Saturn probably include, from the top-down, a thick layer of gaseous molecular hydrogen (H2), a layer of liquid molecular hydrogen (H2), a deep layer of liquid metallic hydrogen (H), and a core of heavier elements. The core is probably differentiated into layers and likely composed of "ices", silicate minerals, and metals. Newer models of Saturn's interior include a "fuzzy" core similar to Jupiter.
Saturn has the best developed and most prominent set of rings in the entire Solar System. Major sections of the rings are designated by capital letters: A Ring, B Ring, C Ring, etc. Saturn's rings are only about 100 meters thick - they appear quite thin when viewed exactly edgewise from Earth. The rings are composed of reflective particles ranging in size from about 1 centimeter (= pebble-sized) to about 10 meters in size (= boulder-sized). The particles are about 99% water ice (H2O).
The origin of Saturn's rings is a major unsolved mystery in planetary geology. Despite the uncertain origin, several hypotheses have been proposed. A commonly cited explanation is that the rings possibly formed after the breakup of a moon. All the material in the rings would make up a ~500 to 600 kilometer-sized satellite.
Narrow gaps in the rings are caused by tiny moons. For example, the Keeler Gap in the A Ring is caused by a small satellite called Daphnis.
Surprisingly, Saturn's rings are not always planar. As were Jupiter's rings after a cometary impact event, Saturn's rings have been observed with distinct ripples. In 2009, when the Sun illuminated the rings edge-on, corrugations were seen. Evidence and calculations indicate that Saturn's rings were tilted in 1983 by a cometary impact. Ripples in the rings have formed as they return to equatorial equilibrium. The 1983 impact event was not observed from Earth, because Saturn was behind the Sun at the time.
Saturn's composition is like Jupiter, with about 96% hydrogen (H) and about 3% helium (He). Saturn is color-banded, but subtly so. Overall, Saturn has pale yellowish to yellowish-gray colors. Unlike Jupiter, Saturn storms are relatively small and short-lived, but occasional giant storms are observed (Example: a "great white spot" from 2010 to 2011).
In equatorial regions, winds in the Saturn atmosphere are about 500 meters per second, which is over 1100 miles per hour. Polar winds are much slower.
Unexpectedly, Saturn's North Pole has a persistant hexagonal structure over twice the size of Planet Earth. The South Pole lacks a hexagon. The North Pole hexagon is sometimes bluish and sometimes brownish in color. A vortex is present at the center of the hexagon. Saturn's South Pole also has a vortex.
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Synthesized from many sources.
Published analysis on August 25, 2013, the 100th anniversary of Leo Frank's guilty verdict.
The century-old “unsolved” Mary Phagan murder mystery — the sadistic rape and ghastly strangling of a Christian teenage girl, Mary Phagan and the subsequent lynching of her convicted sex-killer, Jewish industrialist and pencil manufacturing superintendent Leo Frank — has now been successfully solved by jurisprudence scholars using the extensive 1913 official investigation and trial records (see: the Leo Frank Ga Supreme Court records).
In this once-in-a-lifetime event, the book publishing, mainstream media, and ivory tower establishment of the partisan academy — who have for generations since 1913, promoted the racist hoax and anti-Gentile conspiracy theory that anti-Semites framed Leo Frank for the crime simply because he was Jewish and that the "blood of a Negro" was not enough to pay or atone for the crime — have been definitively proven to be wrong by the stenographed statements of Leo Frank himself (see: Leo Frank's trial statement in the brief of evidence).
The Jewish Daily Forward
It was recently revealed by two Jewish-American journalists in separate published articles that, Abraham Cahan, founder of 'The Jewish Daily Forward' (Forverts in 1914) interviewed Leo Frank who suggested it was not anti-Semitism, but instead "keystone cops" who were the primary source behind his criminal case. Leo Frank also believed that Hugh Dorsey needed to bolster his legal career as prosecutor because he had a couple of recent "embarrassing" defeats in the courtroom. However an audit of Dorsey's legal career as Solicitor General in Atlanta proves that his prime directive and personal motive as prosecutor was seeking justice for victims of crimes, not about just blandly "winning or losing" for the sake of keeping a binary score.
According to Paul Berger of The Jewish Daily Forward (August 30, 2013):
Cahan traveled to Atlanta in March 1914 to visit Frank in his cell. In the fifth volume of Cahan’s memoirs, published in Yiddish in 1931, Cahan relates that Frank told him the Atlanta police were desperate for a conviction. Mary Phagan’s murder presented a huge challenge for prosecutor Hugh Dorsey, who had just come off the back of two embarrassing courtroom defeats.
“Anti-Semitism is absolutely not the reason for this libel that has been framed against me,” [Leo] Frank told [Abraham] Cahan. “It isn’t the source nor the result of this sad story.”
Organized Jewry
Yet, even a century later, Frank's defenders at both public and private schools, synagogues, churches, civic events, history conferences, and in conjunction with utilizing mainstream news-mediums for wider publicity amplification, vociferously exaggerate every sort of sectarian division as to why Frank was supposedly convicted, while also distorting and suppressing the substantial evidence against him in the brief of evidence. Leo Frank they claim is a martyr of anti-Semitism.
The great breakthrough of our time is that since the legal records of the Leo Frank case have been scanned by Government researchers in Atlanta and put online (the 1,800 page Leo Frank Georgia Supreme Court records is published on Flickr.com), it is now possible for people who live far away from the Georgia legal records and archives office to learn why Leo Frank was really convicted and why his defenders, who say he is innocent, have been perpetuating a century of pathological lies - a web of lies involving many "distinguished" people, where men and women with academic credentials quote and re-quote each other, while providing almost copycat analysis of each other, but using variant words from the thesaurus' lexicon population. In other words Leo Frank's defenders all basically say almost exactly the same thing however using different words, sentence structures and syntax to repeat each others claims. This is called the web of lies and this is how politically correct academia works in the United States.
This quote sums up perfectly pro-Frank sentiment:
"When a well-packaged web of lies has been sold gradually to the masses over generations, the truth will seem utterly preposterous and its speaker a raving lunatic." - D. James
Leo Frank Incriminated Himself Beyond Escape
At the murder trial, a stupefying admission was made by the defendant, when he testified from the witness stand, amounting to what his detractors consider a pitiful cry of mercy that has the sheen and flavour of a confession. If this is indeed true, then the logical question is:
How many times in the annals of US legal history has similar happened?
Something quietly climactic happened during the month-long People v. Leo M. Frank murder trial, held within Georgia’s Fulton County Superior Courthouse in the Summer of 1913 -- Mr. Leo Max Frank inadvertently revealed the solution to the murder mystery of Mary Phagan...
Here is how:
When Leo Frank mounted the witness stand on Monday afternoon, August 18, 1913, at 2:15 pm, he orally delivered an unsworn, four-hour, pre-written statement to the some 200+ people present in the audience of the courtroom.
The Epic Trial of 20th Century Southern Legal History
The packed attendees sat in the tight outer arena at one of the most astounding murder trials in the history of Georgia's legal annals. Nestled deep within the hard butt-breaking pews of the courtroom were the luckiest of public spectators, defense and prosecution witnesses, journalists, officials, and courtroom staff.
Photo: Hugh M. Dorsey the Prosecutor (see Flickr)
Like gladiators inside an arena, in the center of it all, with their backs to the audience, seated in ladder-back chairs, were the most important principals. They were the State of Georgia’s prosecution team, made up of three members, led by Solicitor General Hugh M. Dorsey and Frank Arthur Hooper. Arrayed against them were eight Leo Frank defense counselors, led by Luther Zeigler Rosser and Reuben Rose Arnold.
The presiding judge, the Honorable Leonard Strickland Roan, sitting in a high-backed leather chair, was separated by the witness stand from the jury of 12 White men who were sworn to justly decide the fate of Leo Frank.
Crouched and sandwiched between the judge’s rostrum and the witness chair, sitting on the lip of the bench’s foot rail, was a stenographer capturing the examinations. Stenographers clicked away with pencil in hand throughout the trial and were changed regularly in relays.
Surrounding the four major defense and prosecution counselors were an entourage of uniformed police, plainclothes detectives, undercover armed security men, government staff, and magistrates.
Photo: Leo Frank posing for Collier’s Weekly (see Flickr).
The photo would later become the front cover for the 1915 New York Times best selling book 'The Truth About the Frank Case' by Charles Powell Connolly. In the picture, seated in a witness chair, the fingertips of Leo Frank’s left-hand are firmly clasped around the base of a cigar, vertically projecting upward from his groin region. The significance of Leo Frank’s left fist would be revealed when evidence from the Mary Phagan autopsy -- conducted in early May of 1913, by Dr. H. F. Harris -- was reported during the Leo Frank trial (Mary Phagan had been punched in her right eye causing her to fall backward and slam her head against the handle of a lathe in the metal room).
The first day of the 4-week-long Leo Frank trial began on Monday morning, July 28, 1913, and led to many days of successively more horrifying revelations. But the most interesting day of the trial occurred three weeks later when Leo Frank sat down in the witness stand on Monday afternoon, August 18, 1913.
The Moment Everyone Was Waiting For....
What Leo Frank had to say to the court became the spine-tingling climax of the most notorious criminal trial in US history, and it was the moment everyone in all of Georgia, especially Atlanta, had waited for.
Judge Roan explained to the jury the unique circumstances and rules concerning the unsworn statement Leo M. Frank was to make. Then, at 2:14 pm, Leo Frank was called to speak. When he mounted the stand, a hush fell as 250 spellbound people jammed in the courtroom. They were more than just speechless: They were literally breathless, transfixed, sitting on the edges of their seats, waiting with great anticipation for every sentence, and every word, that came forth from the mouth of Leo Frank.
But listening to his long speech became challenging at times. Little did they know Leo Frank had developed a reputation as a “gas jet” from his college days (see his 1906 Cornell University Senior Class Yearbook entry, p 79), and he lived up to it now with dense, mind-numbing verbiage.
Image: Leo Frank’s reputation as a champion “hot air artist” — and service as a debating coach — shown in his college yearbook entry.
Three Out of Nearly 3.5 Hours: Distractions and Endless Pencil Calculations
To bring his major points home during his almost four-hour speech (3 hours and 40 minutes to be exact), Leo Frank presented original pages of his accounting books to the jury. For three hours he went over, in detail, the accounting computations he had made on the afternoon of April 26, 1913. This was meant to show the court that he had been far too busy to have murdered Mary Phagan on that day nearly 15 weeks before.
One dispute emphasized by the defense was over how long it took Frank to do the accounting books: Was it an hour and a half as some said, or three hours? Can either answer ever be definitive, though? No matter how quickly one accountant works, is it beyond belief that another could be twice as fast?
The Ultimate Question Waiting to be Answered
Image: Little Miss Monteen Stover, 14 years old and 5’2” tall.
The most important unanswered question in the minds of everyone at the trial was this:
Where had Leo Frank gone between 12:05 p.m. and 12:10 p.m. on Georgia Confederate Memorial Day, Saturday, April 26, 1913?
This was the crucial question because Monteen Stover had testified she found Leo Frank’s office empty during this five-minute time segment – and Leo Frank had told police he never left his office during that time, when he claimed Mary Phagan was with him. And the evidence (state of digestion of the food in her stomach from the autopsy, hair on the lathe and blood on the floor) had already suggested that Mary Phagan was murdered sometime between high-noon and 12:15 p.m. in the metal-room on the same floor, located opposite of where Leo Frank works in his window-front office.
Two investigators had testified that Leo Frank gave them the alibi that he had never left his office from noon until after 12:45 p.m. If Leo Frank’s alibi held up, then he couldn’t have killed Mary Phagan during that time.
Everyone wanted to know how Leo Frank would respond to the contradictory testimony clashing with his alibi (Monteen Stover). And, after rambling about near-irrelevancies for hours, he did:
Now Gentlemen [of the jury], to the best of my recollection from the time the whistle blew for twelve o’clock [noon] until after a quarter to one [12:45 p.m.] when I went up stairs [to the fourth floor] and spoke to Arthur White and Harry Denham, to the best of my recollection, I did not stir out of the inner office [located at the front of the second floor]; but it is possible that in order to answer a call of nature or to urinate I may have gone to the toilet [located at the back of the second floor in the metal room].
Those are things that a man does unconsciously and cannot tell how many times nor when he does it.
Now, sitting in my office at my desk, it is impossible for me to see out into the outer hall when the [four foot tall] safe door is open, as it was that morning [on Saturday, April 26, 1913], and not only is it impossible for me to see out, but it is impossible for people to see in and see me there.
Source: Leo Frank Trial Brief of Evidence, 1913.
Frank stated — in complete contradiction to his numerous earlier statements that he’d never left his office — that he might have “unconsciously” gone to the bathroom during that time — placing him in the only bathroom on that floor of the building, the Metal Room bathroom, which is where Jim Conley had finally admitted he first found the lifeless body of little Mary Phagan, and immediately adjacent in the Metal Room proper, where Mary Phagan’s blood (found on the floor) and hair (found on the machine handle) was found, and where the prosecution had spent weeks at the trial proving Phagan's murder had actually taken place, right there, at approximately that time.
Frank gave himself 2 ways out:
Frank also stated that at the exact same time he was simultaneously in the metal room bathroom, he might have simultaneously been unseeable behind the four foot tall safe door in his office. Who could believe he was at two possible places at the exact same time? It had to be one or the other, but Monteen Stover said his office was empty, and mentioned no open safe door, so it tended to place Leo Frank in the metal room during the critical time.
The Eminent Coroner Paul V. Donehoo and his Jury of Six Men:
This was doubly amazing because weeks earlier Leo Frank had emphatically told the seven-man panel lead by Coroner Paul Donehoo, and represented via the six-man Jury at the Coroners Inquest, that he (Leo Frank) did not remember using the bathroom that day when at the factory.
The partially blind, but prodigious savant Coroner Paul Donehoo — with his highly-refined “B.S. detector” was incredulous as might be expected. Who doesn’t use the bathroom all day long? (especially a person who is a heavy coffee drink) It was as if Leo Frank was mentally and physically, albeit crudely and unbelievably, trying to distance himself from the bathroom where the body was later claimed to be found (Conley finally testified he first found the dead body of Mary Phagan in the men's toilet area of the metal room after Leo Frank allegedly confessed the assault to "Jim") .
Furthermore, on Sunday May 4th, 1913, Leo Frank had told Pinkerton detective Harry Scott — witnessed by police detective Mr. Black — that he (Leo Frank) was in his office every minute from noon to half past noon, and in State’s Exhibit B (Frank’s stenographed statement to the police on Monday Morning, April 28, 1913, see full text of it from August 2nd, 1913, Atlanta Constitution), Leo Frank never mentions a bathroom visit all day and said Mary Phagan was in his office between 12:05 p.m. and 12:10 p.m. maybe 12:07 p.m.
And now he had reversed himself!
Why would Leo Max Frank make such a startling admission, after spending months trying to distance himself from that part of the building at that precise time? Why would Leo Frank place himself in the men's toilet, when he watched Conley testify on the witness stand (August 4, 5, 6, 1913) that was the area where Jim found the dead body of Mary Phagan? That is a difficult question to answer, but there are some intriguing clews (Atlanta Constitution, 1913).
1) The testimony of Monteen Stover (who liked Frank and who was actually a supportive character witness for him) that Frank was missing from his office for those crucial five minutes was convincing. Few could believe that Stover — looking to pick up her paycheck, and waiting five minutes in Frank's business office for an opportunity to do so — would have been satisfied with a cursory glance at the room and therefore somehow missed Frank behind the 4ft tall open safe door as he had alleged (See State's Exhibit A, Defendant's Exhibit 61.)
2) The evidence suggests that Frank did not always make rational decisions when under stress: Under questioning from investigators, he repeatedly changed the time at which Mary Phagan supposedly came to see him in his office.
The four separate times Leo Frank said Mary Phagan arrived in his office:
First - On Sunday, April 27, 1913, less than 24 hours after the murder occurred, Leo Frank told police that Mary Phagan arrived in his office on Saturday, April 26, 1913 at about 12:03 p.m.
Second - On Monday 48 hours after the murder occurred, Leo Frank said Mary Phagan arrived "Between 12:05 p.m. and 12:10 p.m., maybe 12:07 p.m. (State's Exhibit B digest, and Atlanta Constitution, August 2nd, 1913 for full questions and answers)
Third - On May 5th and 8th at the Coroner's Inquest, Leo Frank said Mary arrived about 12:10 p.m. to 12:15 p.m..
Fourth - On August 18, 1913 at his trial, Leo Frank said Mary Phagan arrived between 12:12 to 12:17 p.m. (Because his stenographer changed her testimony at trial and said she left at "12:02 p.m.")
Wow, four separate times that kept inching minute by minute away from his initial statement of 12:03 p.m.
3) Leo Frank reportedly confessed his guilt to his wife the day of the murder (Albert McKnight's Affidavit in Leo Frank Georgia Supreme Court Records, and Magnolia "Minola" McKnight Affidavit, see State's Exhibit J in Leo Frank trial brief of evidence, 1913); he, if guilty, reacted out of all proportion and reason to being spurned by his teenage employee; and he maintained the utterly unbelievable position throughout the case that he did not know Mary Phagan by name, despite indisputably knowing her initials (he wrote them on the company books by hand) and interacting with her hundreds of times. Moreover, everyday that Frank went to the bathroom in the metal room, he passed by Mary's workstation by a matter of feet. Moreover, does the fact that Lucille Selig Frank (Leo Frank's wife) requested not to be buried next to her husband speak volumes about the veracity of State's Exhibit J and Albert McKnight's affidavit?
Even if only one of these lapses is true as described, it is enough to show a pronounced lack of judgement. A man with such impaired judgement may actually have been unable to see that by explaining away his previous untenable (and now exposed as false) position of “never leaving the office” with an “unconscious” bathroom visit, he was placing himself at the scene of the murder at the precise time of the murder. Thus are men who tell tales undone, even as they fall back upon a partial truth.
Georgia: Right to Refuse Oaths and Examination.
Why did Leo not permit cross-examination after his own long-courtroom Statement - under Georgia Law, since 1868 (Title VI), it WAS allowed (unsworn), IF the defendant agreed (source: Professor Allen Koenigsberg, Brooklyn College, 2013)
Under the Georgia Code, Section 1036, the accused has the right to make an unsworn statement and, furthermore, to refuse to be examined or cross-examined at his trial. Leo Frank made the decision to make an unsworn statement and not allow examination or cross examination.
The law also did not permit Solicitor General Hugh M. Dorsey or his legal team to orally interpret or comment on the fact that Leo Frank was not making a statement sworn under oath at his own murder trial. The prosecution respected this rule.
The jury knew that Leo Frank had months to carefully prepare his statement. But what was perhaps most damaging to Leo Frank’s credibility was the fact that every witness at the trial, regardless of whether they were testifying for the defense or prosecution, had been sworn-in, and therefore spoke under oath, and had been open to cross-examination by the other side — except for Leo Frank. Thus it didn’t matter if the law prevented the prosecution from commenting on the fact Leo Frank had refused cross examination, opting instead to make an unsworn statement, because the jury could see that anyway. Making an unsworn statement and refusing to be examined does not prove that one is guilty, but it certainly raises eyebrows of doubt about truthfulness.
The South an “Honor Bound” Society
Could a sworn jury upholding its sacred duty question Leo Frank’s honor and integrity as a result of what Southerners likely perceived as his cowardly decision under Georgia Code, Section 1036? If so, greater weight would naturally be given to those witnesses who were sworn under oath and who contradicted Leo Frank’s unsworn alibis, allegations, and claims. It put the entire case under a new lens of the sworn versus the unsworn defendant.
The average Southerner in 1913 was naturally asking the question: What White man would make an unsworn statement and not allow himself to be cross-examined at his own murder trial if he were truly innocent? Especially in light of the fact that the South was culturally White separatist — and two of the major material witnesses who spoke against Leo Frank were African-American, one claiming to be an accomplice after the fact turned accuser.
In the White racial segregationist Atlanta of 1913, African-Americans were perceived as second class citizens and less reliable than Whites in terms of their capacity for telling the truth.
Photo: Lucille Selig Frank, the wife of Leo Frank left. (see Flickr)
Today, we might ask: Why wouldn't Leo Frank allow himself to be cross examined when he was trained in the art and science of debating during his high school senior year and all through his years in college, where he earned the rank of Cornell Congress Debate Team coach? (Pratt Institute Monthly, June, 1902; Cornellian, 1903 through 1906; Cornell Senior Class Book, 1906; Cornell University Alumni Dossier File on Leo Frank, retrieved 2012)
Odd Discrepancies
illustration: Newt Lee at the Coroner’s Inquest Months Before
Most Leo Frank partisan authors omit significant parts of the trial testimony of Newt Lee and Jim Conley from their retelling of the Leo Frank Case. Both of these African-American men, former National Pencil Company employees, made clearly damaging statements against Frank.
The Negro Nightwatchman Newton "Newt" Lee:
The evidence Newt Lee brought forward was circumstantial, but intriguing — and never quite adequately explained by Leo Frank then, or by his defenders now.
Lee stated that on Friday Evening, April 25, 1913, Frank made a request to him, that he report to work an hour early at 4:00 p.m. on Confederate Memorial Day, the next day. The stated reason was that Leo Frank had made a baseball game appointment with his brother-in-law, Mr. Ursenbach, a Gentile Christian who was married to one of (Frank’s wife) Lucille’s older sisters. Leo Frank would eventually give two different reasons at two separate times as to why he canceled that appointment:
1) he had too much work to do, and
2) he was afraid of catching a cold, but the fact he never said both at the same time was a circumstance of minor suspicion.
Newt Lee’s normal expected time at the National Pencil Company factory on Saturdays was 5:00 pm sharp. Lee stated that when he arrived an hour early that fateful Saturday at 3:56 p.m., Leo Frank had forgotten the change because he was in an excited state. Frank, he said, was unlike his normal calm, cool and collected “boss” self. Normally, if anything was out of order, Frank would command him, saying “Newt, step in here a minute” or the like. Instead, Frank burst out of his office, bustling frenetically towards Lee, who had arrived at the second floor lobby at 3:56 pm. Upon greeting each other, Frank requested assertively that Lee go out on the town and “have a good time” for two hours and come back at 6:00 pm.
Newt Lee was tired:
Because Leo Frank on Friday asked Newt Lee to come to work one hour early, Lee had lost that last nourishing hour of sleep one needs before waking up fully rejuvenated, so Lee requested of Frank that he allow him to take a nap in the Packing Room (adjacent to Leo Frank’s front office). But Frank re-asserted that Lee needed to go out and "have a good time" for 2 hours. Finally, Newt Lee acquiesced and left for two hours.
At trial, Frank would state that he sent Newt Lee out for two hours because he had work to do. When Lee came back, the double doors halfway up the staircase were locked – very unusual, as they had never had been locked before on Saturday afternoons. When Newt Lee unlocked the doors and went into Leo Frank’s office he witnessed his boss bungling and nearly fumbling the time sheet when trying to put a new one in the punch clock for the night watchman – Lee – to register.
It left people wondering why an Executive Whiteman who had 5 years experience putting time cards into the punch clock was bugging out on it at that exact moment.
It came out before the trial that Newt Lee had earlier been told by Leo Frank that it was a National Pencil Company policy that once the night watchman arrived at the factory – as Lee had the day of the murder at 4:00 pm – he was not permitted to leave the building under any circumstances until he handed over the reigns of security to the day watchman. Company security necessitated being cautious – poverty, and therefore theft, was rife in the South; there were fire risk hazards; and the critical factory machinery was worth a small fortune. Security was a matter of survival.
The two hour timetable rescheduling – the canceled ball game – the inexplicable sudden security rule waiver – the bumbling with a new time sheet – the locked double doors – and Frank’s suspiciously excited behavior: All were highlighted as suspicious by the prosecution, especially in light of the fact that the “murder notes” – found next to Mary Phagan’s head – physically described Newt Lee, even calling him “the night witch.” And, the prosecutor asked, why did Leo Frank later telephone Newt Lee, not once but two or more times, that evening at the factory?
A Jewish “Racist” Subplot Against Two Negroes?
The substance of what happened between Newt Lee (and janitor James “Jim” Conley – see below) and Leo Frank from April 26, 1913 onward is most often downplayed, censored, or distorted by partisans of Leo Frank.
From the testimony of these two Black witnesses, we learn of an almost diabolic intrigue calculated to entrap the innocent night watchman Newt Lee. It would have been easy to convict a Black man in the White separatist South of that time, where the ultimate crime was a Black man having interracial sex with a White woman — to say nothing of committing battery, rape, strangulation, and mutilation upon her in a scenario right out of the book: Psychopathia Sexualis (available on www.archive.org).
Photo: Luther Zeigler Rosser, Lead Counselor for the Leo Frank defense and the Deliciously Racist Gambit.
The plot was exquisitely formulated for its intended audience, the twelve White men who would decide Leo Frank’s fate. It created two layers of Black men between Frank and the murder of Mary Phagan. It wouldn’t take the police long to realize Newt Lee didn’t commit the murder, and, since the death notes were written in Ebonics, it would leave the police hunting for another Black murderer. As long as Jim Conley kept his mouth shut, he wouldn’t hang. So the whole plot rested on Jim Conley – and it took the police three weeks to crack him using the third degree method (Good Cop verses Bad Cop).
The ugly racial element of this defense ploy is rarely mentioned today. The fact that it was Leo Frank, a Jew (and generally considered White in the racial separatist Old South), who first tried to pin the rape and murder of Mary Phagan on the elderly, balding, and married Black man Newt Lee (who had no criminal record to boot) is not something that Frank partisans want to highlight.
Leo Frank's sex-killer denialists also downplays the racial considerations that made Frank, when his first racially-tinged defense move failed and was abandoned, change course for the last time and formulate a new subplot to pin the crime on Jim Conley, the “accomplice after the fact.”
If events had played out as intended in the White Racial Separatist Atlanta of 1913, there would have likely been one or two dead Black men in the wake of the defense team’s intrigue.
Jim Conley knew too much. He admitted he had helped the real murderer, Leo Frank, remove the body of Mary Phagan after the fact. To prevent Conley, through extreme fear, from revealing any more about the real solution to the crime, and to discredit him no matter what he did, a new theory was needed. Jim Conley certainly was scared beyond comprehension, knowing what White society did to Black men who beat, raped, and strangled White girls.
The Accuser Becomes the Accused
Meet the Negro Custodian: 27 Year Old, James "Jim" Conley.
The new murder theory posited by the Leo Frank defense was that Jim Conley assaulted Mary Phagan as she walked down the stairs from Leo Frank’s office (see Adolph Ochs Photo Archive at New York Public Library). Once Phagan descended to the first floor lobby, they said, she was robbed, then thrown down 14 feet to the basement through the two-foot by two-foot scuttle hole at the side of the elevator. Conley then supposedly went through the scuttle hole himself, climbing down the ladder, dragged the unconscious Mary Phagan to the garbage dumping ground in front of the cellar incinerator (known as the “furnace”), where he then raped, robed and strangled her.
But this grotesque racially-tinged framing was to fail in the end because of simple medical forensics: The scratchmarks all over Mary Phagan's body didn't bleed, it meant she was already dead before being brought to the basement and dragged from the cellar elevator shaft entry to the furnace dumping ground at the back of the factory. First responders noted that there were visible drag marks from the elevator shaft to where Phagan was dumped.
Now we Flash back to Newt Lee.
Investigators arranged for a conversation to take place between Leo Frank and Newt Lee, who were intentionally put alone together in a police interrogation room at the Atlanta Police Station. The experiment was to see how Frank would interact with Lee and determine if any new information could be obtained.
Once they thought they were alone, Leo Frank scolded Newt Lee for trying to talk about the murder of Mary Phagan, and said that if Lee kept up that kind of talk, Frank and he would go straight to hell.
Star Witnesses
The Jewish community has crystallized around the notion that Jim Conley was the star witness at the trial, and not 14-year-old Monteen Stover who defended Leo Frank’s character — and then inadvertently broke his alibi.
Leo Frank partisans downplay the significance of Monteen Stover’s trial testimony and Leo Frank’s attempted rebuttal of her testimony on August 18, 1913. Governor John M. Slaton also ignored the Stover-Frank incident in his 29-page commutation order of June 21, 1915.
Many Frank partisans have chosen to obscure the significance of Monteen Stover by putting all the focus on Jim Conley, and then claiming that without Jim Conley there would have been no conviction of Leo Frank.
Could they be right? Or could Leo Frank have been convicted on the testimony of Monteen Stover, without the testimony of Jim Conley?
However, It is a question left for speculation only, because no one ever anticipated the significance of Jim Conley telling the jury that he had found Mary Phagan dead in the Metal Room bathroom.
It was not until Leo Frank gave his response to Monteen Stover’s testimony – his explanation of why his second floor business office was empty on April 26, 1913 between 12:05 pm and 12:10 pm – that everything came together tight and narrow.
Leo Frank threaded the needle's eye of the Atlanta police-detective's murder thesis and state-prosecution's case theory, thus the defendant inescapably entrapped himself beyond escape.
Tom Watson resolved the “no conviction without Conley” controversy in the September 1915 number of his Watson’s Magazine, but perhaps it is time for a 21st century explanation to make it clear why even the Georgia Supreme Court ruled that the evidence and testimony of the trial sustained Frank’s conviction.
August 18, 1913: You Are the Jury
The four-hour-long unsworn statement of Leo Frank was the crescendo of the trial. (Later, just before closing arguments, Frank himself was allowed the last word. He spoke once more on his own behalf, unsworn this time also, for five minutes, denying the testimony of others that he had known Mary Phagan by name and that he had gone into the dressing room for presumably immoral purposes with one of the company’s other employees.)
Image: The jury that convicted Leo Frank
Three Alleged "Confessions" Found in the Brief of Evidence, 1913.
It is important to understand that Leo Frank’s startling admission of his presence in the death room at the critical moment did not stand alone in the jury’s eyes. Conclusive as it was, it was not Frank’s only confession.
The official record shows Leo Frank allegedly confessed to murdering Mary Phagan three times, though he would deny all three.
• Alleged "Confession" Number One — April 26, 1913: Leo Frank’s murder confession number one was made to Jim Conley when Leo Frank told him he had tried to “be with her” (have sexual intercourse with Mary Phagan) and she refused him. According to Conley, Frank then stated he had struck the thirteen-year-old girl and hit her too hard, she had hit her head against something. Some of Mary Phagan’s bloody hair was discovered on Monday, April 28, 1913, by Robert P. Barret on the handle of a lathe in the second floor Metal Room (Leo Frank Trial Brief of Evidence, 1913).
• Alleged "Confession" Number Two — April 26, 1913: According to the McKnight family (See: Albert's and Magnolia's Affidavit.), Allegedly Leo Frank confessed about murdering Mary Phagan to his wife Lucille Selig Frank on the evening of April 26, 1913, at around 10:00 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. Leo Frank said to his wife that he didn’t know why he would murder — and asked his wife for his pistol so he could shoot himself. Lucille told her family and her cook Magnolia "Minola" McKnight, about what happened that evening. Minola McKnight told her husband Albert McKnight who told his boss, because he had contacts in the Atlanta Police. Decades later, Lucille Selig Frank refused to be buried in the Frank-Stern family plot, next to her husband, leaving explicit instructions to the contrary. (see: Oney, UGA, Georgia Magazine, 'Features' March, 2004).
• Leo Frank Alleged Murder "Confession" Number Three — August 18, 1913: This is the “unconscious bathroom visit” statement delivered by Frank to the court in his unsworn statement, placing him unequivocally at the murder scene at the critical time (Leo Frank Trial Brief of Evidence, 1913).
Number Four?! Frank would also reaffirm this admission in a newspaper interview published by the Atlanta Constitution on March 9th, 1914 (Read it).
Photo: The Presiding Judge Leonard Strickland Roan (1849 - 1915)
With Mercy — or Without?
Judge Leonard Strickland Roan gave the jury two options if they found the defendant guilty: ‘With Mercy’ or ‘Without Mercy.’ If there was any doubt of Leo M. Frank’s guilt, the judge and jury could have sentenced Frank to life in prison instead of sentencing him to death by hanging. When the jury unanimously sentenced Leo Frank to death by hanging after deciding on a verdict of guilt, Judge Roan had the legal option to downgrade the jury’s death sentence, and only give Leo Frank life in prison – that is, if Roan disagreed with the judgment. But Judge Roan agreed with their collective verdict and recommendation. Roan denied Leo Frank's petition for a new trial, rejecting 107 grounds.
Then and Now:
Many in the Jewish community, and other Leo Frank partisans, have suggested that Judge Roan doubted the verdict because of one of his apparently appeasing comments made orally to his former law partner, Luther Rosser. But if Roan actually doubted the verdict, he could have exercised his power many times to prevent Frank’s execution, and even given him a new trial if that would have served the cause of justice. But he did none of these things.
You are Hereby Sentenced to Hang on April 17, 1914; Happy Birthday Dear Leo, Happy Birthday to you:
Certainty of Leo Frank’s guilt was so strong that, after reviewing his trial testimony for months, the Fulton County Superior Court Judge Benjamin H. Hill, later re-sentenced him to die on his 30th birthday: April 17, 1914. Only absolute mathematical certainty of guilt warrants such a cruel sentencing date by a judge.
* * *
Appendix: Essential Reading
To gain a full understanding of the Leo Frank case, and the tissue-thin “anti-Semitic conspiracy” theories advanced by the media today, it is necessary to read the official record without censorship or selective editing by partisans. Here are the resources which will enable you to do just that.
• Leo M. Frank Brief of Evidence, Murder Trial Testimony and Affidavits, 1913
• Leo M. Frank unsworn trial statement (BOE, Leo Frank Trial Statement, August 18, 1913)
• Leo Frank trial, State’s Exhibit B, April 28, 1913 (BOE)
Original State’s Exhibit B:
Part 1 – published on Flickr.com
Part 2 – published on Flickr.com
Complete Analysis of State’s Exhibit B (required reading): The full review of State’s Exhibit B at the Leo Frank Research Library
• Leo Frank Case files from the Georgia Supreme Court, Adobe PDF format: published on Flickr.com
• Atlanta Constitution issue of March 9, 1914 (Leo Frank Answers List of Questions Bearing on Points Made Against Him, March 9, 1914)
• Compare the analysis of the bathroom statement by reading: Argument of Hugh M. Dorsey, followed by Argument of Mr. Frank Hooper — also compare with Tom Watson’s version
• Minola McKnight statement (Magnolia Mcknight, State’s Exhibit J, June 3, 1913) and cremation request in the 1954 Notarized Last Will and Testament of Lucille Selig Frank (Georgia Records Archives, 1954)
• 2D and 3D National Pencil Company floor diagrams (Defendant's Exhibit 61, and State's Exhibit A, 1913)
Image: The National Pencil Company in 3 Dimensions, State's Exhibit A.
3-Dimensional Floor Plan of the National Pencil Company from the Leo Frank Georgia Supreme Court File: published on Flickr.com
The Defendant Leo Frank’s Factory Diagrams Made on His Behalf: published on Flickr.com
2-Dimensional Floor Plan of the National Pencil Company in 1913: published on Flickr.com
Image: Defendants Exhibit 61, Ground Floor and Second Floor 2D Birds Eye View Maps of the National Pencil Company. Plat of the First and Second Floor of the National Pencil Company.
1. Images: State’s Exhibit A (Small Image) or State’s Exhibit A (Large Image).
2. Different Version: Side view of the factory diagram showing the front half of the factory www.Flickr.com
3. Bert Green Diagram of the National Pencil Company, Atlanta, Georgia, 1913, Available on Flickr.com
• James “Jim” Conley’s testimony (James Conley, Brief of Evidence, August, 4, 5, 6, 1913),
• Staged late defense version of Mary Phagan murder events by Jewish Media Mogul Adolph Ochs of the Jewish Newspaper the New York Times, Available on Flickr.com
• The Jeffersonian Newspaper 1914-1917 and Watson’s Magazine (August and September, 1915) series on the case, images posted on Flickr.com
• Defense and prosecution both ratify the original Brief of Evidence: Leo M. Frank, Plaintiff in Error, vs. State of Georgia, Defendant in Error. In Error from Fulton Superior Court at the July Term 1913. Brief of Evidence. Available on Flickr.com
• John Davison Lawson’s American State Trials, Volume X, 1918, Read the closing arguments here of Luther Zeigler Rosser, Reuben Rose Arnold, Hugh Manson Dorsey and Frank Arthur Hooper) Available on Flickr.com
• Required Reading: Mary Phagan Kean’s analysis of the Leo Frank Case: The Murder of Little Mary Phagan available on www.Amazon.com
The primary sources of the Leo Frank Case are available at www.Flickr.com and www.Archive.org
Please visit the Leo Frank Research Library: www.LeoFrank.info
...on Wingstem.
The Monarch is probably the most well-known and beloved of North American butterflies. Its wings when open feature an easily recognizable orange and black pattern, with a wingspan of 3.3 - 4.9 inches (8.5 - 12.5 cm) . The females have darker and thicker veins on their wings while the males have a spot in the center of each hindwing from which pheromones are released, and which also helps to easily distinguish them from females.
In North America, the Monarch ranges from southern Canada to northern South America. It rarely strays to western Europe (sometimes as far as Greece) from being transported by U. S. ships or by flying there if weather and wind conditions are right. It has also been found in Bermuda, Hawaii, the Solomons, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Australia, New Guinea, Ceylon, India, the Azores, and the Canary Islands.
Monarchs are especially noted for their lengthy annual migration. In North America they make massive southward migrations starting in August until the first frost. A northward migration takes place in the spring. The Monarch is the only butterfly that migrates BOTH north and south as birds do on a regular basis. But no single individual makes the entire round trip. Female monarchs deposit eggs for the next generation to complete the journey during these migrations. How the offspring know where to go remains one of nature's unsolved mysteries.
In eastern North American the Monarch population begins the southward migration late summer - early autumn and can cover thousands of mile from the United States and southern Canada to Mexico. The western North American population, west of the Rocky Mountains, most often migrates to sites in California, but have been found overwintering in Mexico.
Besides Mexico and California, overwintering populations of Monarchs are also found along the Gulf Coast, year-round in Florida, and in Arizona where the habitat provides the specific conditions necessary for their survival. The overwintering habitat typically provides access to streams, plenty of sunlight (for body temperatures that allows flight), appropriate vegetation on which to roost, and is relatively free of predators. Overwintering, roosting butterflies have been seen on sumacs, locusts, basswood elm, oak, osage orange, mulberry, pecan, willow, cottonwood, and mesquite.
ISO400, aperture f/10, exposure .003 seconds (1/320) focal length 420mm
Bryggen i Bergen , also known as Tyskebryggen and Hansabryggen , comprises the old wooden buildings and fire-proof stone cellars in the historic city center of Bergen . The wharf was built around 1070, and from 1360 to 1754 was the seat of the German office in the city and the central hub for the Hanseatic trade in Norway. The Hansa company was also the Nordics' first trading company. The pier consists of approx. 13 acres with 61 listed buildings, and is on UNESCO's list of world heritage sites . Bryggen is the third most visited tourist attraction in Norway .
Streoket Bryggen
The area borders Bergenhus fortress in the north and along Øvregaten to Vetrlidsallmenningen in the south, down this and back along Bryggen's quay front on the east side of Vågen . The area north of the historic commercial farms is called Dreggen . Here is Bradbenken , which is the base for the school ship Statsraad Lehmkuhl , and the Dreggsallmenningen with St. Mary's Church from the 12th century, Bryggens Museum and Gustav Vigeland's statue by Snorre Sturlason . In the area there are also old clusters of wooden houses and more modern blocks of flats with hotels and commercial buildings, as well as the athletics hall Vikinghallen . South of the Dreggsallmenningen are the old Hanseatic wooden trading houses and the Schøtstuene, and south of the Nikolaikirkealmenningen brick apartment buildings in the same style. Farthest to the south is the Hanseatic Museum and the Meat Bazaar . The local archery corps is called Dræggens Buekorps . From Bryggen, Beffen runs a shuttle across Vågen to Munkebryggen on the Strandsiden .
The district is comprised of the basic districts Dreggen, Bryggen and Vetrlidsalmenningen, which had a total of 1,164 inhabitants on 1 January 2014 and an area of 0.16 km², but this includes smaller areas belonging to the districts Stølen and Fjellet east of Øvregaten and Lille Øvregaten , and smaller areas belonging to the Vågsbunnen area south of the Vetrlidsalmenningen.
Name
The name Bryggen or Bryggene can be traced back to the age of sagas . Late in the Middle Ages , in connection with the wharf's emergence as a Hanseatic trading post, the name form Tyskebryggen appears, in the same way that St. Mary's Church was referred to as the "German Church" because services were held in German there until 1868 . In the 17th and 18th centuries, the popular name form Garpebryggen was also common. In Norse, "garp" meant a core vessel, but applied to the German merchants, the term may have been intended ironically. Later, the form Tyskebryggen became dominant. On 25 May 1945, Bergen city council decided that the name should henceforth be Bryggen. The use of the name has been a source of controversy, and several have argued that Tyskebryggen is the most historically correct, and that the city council wishes to reverse the name decision. Lasse Bjørkhaug, former director of Stiftelsen Bryggen, has stated that he has noticed that "more and more people are now using the name Tyskebryggen again". In 2011, Venstre proposed in the city council that the official municipal name should be changed to Tyskebryggen. Hans-Carl Tveit from Venstre justified it by saying that "this is about taking history back. In 2016, Bergen will host the Hansadagen, and it would have been great to get the old name back before then." However, the proposal only received support from the Liberal Party and the independent representative Siv Gørbitz.
The commercial farms at Bryggen functioned as warehouses for goods for export and import. Grain from Central Europe was imported and dried fish from Northern Norway was exported. During the spring and autumn convention, the stalls were full of dried fish to be exported. Dried fish was an important commodity for the Catholic countries, which made use of the dried fish during Lent .
The front buildings at Bryggen were fitted out as seahouses. As a rule, these searooms were divided into packing sheds and farm sheds on the ground floor and outer living room, living room, inner living room and packing room on the second floor. The rooms on the third floor usually consisted of the master's room, the journeyman's room, the boy's room, sitting rooms and storerooms.
When the dried fish from the north reached Bryggen in Bergen, it was first unloaded and then collected in the warehouses for storage. The fish were not made ready for export until the spring or autumn gathering was over, as these were very busy periods. It was the farm boys who were responsible for preparing the fish for sale in the form of cutting the necks and spurs (tails) at each workstation. The dried fish wrecking, the quality determination and sorting of the dried fish, was left to the merchant's second-in-command, the journeyman or wrecker , with responsibility for assessing the value of the fish according to size and quality.
The trading community at Bryggen was strictly stratified, both in the Hanseatic period and later. Young men entered the community as room boys ( Stabenjungen ) with tasks related to daily life in the living rooms, after 3-4 years they advanced to schute boys ( Schutenjungen ) who had tasks, among other things, related to unloading and loading the Nordland jets . After a few more years, they were able to advance to journeyman , after passing an exam in trade theory, knowledge of goods and arithmetic. The office also had its own jurisdiction , as well as a separate school system where boys were apprenticed. There were strict living conditions, where it was forbidden for the members to associate with the inhabitants of Bergen. Hanseaters were also supposed to live in celibacy so that they did not have children who could lay claim to values such as their paternal inheritance. The ban was not complied with, and in Lübeck's archives there are wills in which repatriated Hanseatics name the frill they had in Bergen, and any children in the relationship.
Originally, the Germans were only allowed to "sit" (i.e. shop) in Bergen in the time between the cross mass in the spring (3 May) and the cross mass in the autumn (14 September); but gradually they became "winter sitters". Around 1259, several of them wintered in Bergen as tenants with Norwegian farm owners at Bryggen, and one German soon became a landlord himself. The winter sitting enabled advantageous acquisitions in the winter and early shipping in the spring. Nevertheless, the Germans refused to pay tithes in Bergen, so King Håkon decreed that foreigners who rented houses in the city for 12 months had to be considered permanent residents and were obliged to pay tithes and other things on an equal basis with Norwegians. In 1250, a peace and trade agreement was concluded between King Håkon and Lübeck as a guarantee for mutual free trade between Norwegians and Lübeckers, mutual help against raiders and conditions in Norway that had previously existed. However, the Germans were not satisfied with the legal certainty they experienced. The Norwegian Wreck Court exposed the Hanseatic League to regular looting when their ships were wrecked along the Norwegian coast. In addition, merchants from Hamburg thought they were exposed to a false accusation of murder in Bergen. This Magnus Lagabøte acquitted them for later.
The City Act of 1276 assumed that there were also foreigners among the residents of Norwegian housing estates, and specifies that they must share public burdens such as wheat patrol and wire tax , as well as "skipdrått" (i.e. towing ships ashore in the city). In the summer of 1278, German envoys negotiated several exemptions with Magnus Lagabøte in Tønsberg . A royal letter secured them exemption from ship's draught, which the city law otherwise imposed on all merchants who stayed three nights or more in Bergen, as well as the right to buy hides and butter in smaller lots on wharves and in vessels during the summer months. (Otherwise it was required by law that trade took place in houses or in squares.) Changes were also made to Norwegian stranding law, so that the Hanseatic League could keep all the goods they salvaged by their own efforts after a shipwreck. No one was allowed to remove wreckage that they had not declared.
Eric of Pomerania's dispute with the counts in Holstein became noticeable in Norway when the Hanseatic League decided to close the office at Bryggen. In the spring of 1427 they left Bergen, and did not return until six years later. In the meantime, Bergen had been subjected to two terrible attacks by the Vitalie brothers , who were also known for plundering Hanseatic property.
In 1440, complaints were received that German merchants who set up Dutch stalls on the Strand , chased the Dutch away and threw their goods into the mud. More than a hundred armed Hanseatic League were also said to have entered Bergen's council chamber on the Tuesday after St. Peter's Day (February 23), and chased the councilors with axes and machetes . The conflicts peaked with Olav Nilsson as chief of staff at Bergenhus . He maintained an intransigent line against the Hanseatic League and was deposed in 1453; but as late as 1455 he was back after pressuring Eric of Pomerania to reinstate himself. In the meantime he had operated as a privateer and plundered Hanseatic ships. Well, Nilsson could point out that the Hanseatic League only reluctantly submitted to Norwegian law; but they could not tolerate a former pirate as captain. In 1455, the town witnessed armed Hanseatic troops chasing Nilsson, the bishop and their entourage towards Nordnes where they sought refuge in Munkeliv monastery . While Nilsson climbed the tower, the Hanseatic set fire to the monastery. They paid for the reconstruction, but they refused to pay the fine to Nilsson's survivors. Of course, there was a legally binding judgment on such a fine, but King Christian I did not pursue the case as he had taken out large loans from the Hanseatic League for his warfare.
Bergen's power center
Bryggen used to be the center of the city's worldly power. Maria Gildeskåle is first mentioned in Magnus Lagabøte's town law of 1276, and was then the meeting place for the town council. The building was located next to Mariakirkegården and served as the city's first "town hall", the place where the city administration and the city meeting were supposed to gather according to the city law. The building is today a ruin, located between Bryggens Museum and St Mary's Church. Originally, the building was located as a rear or northern part of the Gullskoen wharf .
The new council chamber was built around 1300-15. It was located in the middle of Bryggen, by the Nikolaikirkealmenningen, where the square was also located. The council chamber was in use until the 1560s. Christoffer Valkendorf was sheriff of Bergenhus from 1556 to 1560 . After Valkendorf arrived in Bergen, several unsolved murders were committed in some of the city's many brothels . Valkendorf had a number of the brothels demolished, and to a large extent abolished the privileges and monopoly of the Hanseatic League in Bergen. The German craftsmen were forced to comply with Norwegian law and were given the choice between swearing allegiance to the king or leaving. In 1559, 59 German craftsmen had to leave. In the 1560s, Bergen's center of power was gradually moved from Tyskebryggen to its current location, at Christoffer Valkendorf's former private residence at Rådstuplass, what is today called the old town hall .
The brewery today
The historic wooden buildings from 1702 received cladding in the 19th century. The preserved buildings at Bryggen today consist of the following rows of farms, counted from the south: South and north Holmedalsgård , Bellgården , Jacobsfjorden (Hjortegården), Svensgården (double farm), Enhjørningen , south and north Bredsgård and Bugården (Bergen) .
Svensgården's head with three faces
Above the entrance to Svensgården hangs a carved head with three faces in wood, a copy of an original in marble . Conservator Jan Hendrich Lexow has argued in the yearbook for Stavanger museum in 1957 that the original was a gift to King Håkon Håkonsson from the German-Roman Emperor Frederick II. Lexow believed that the head was made by a sculptor in southern Italy as a symbol of the triune God . Frederick II held court in Palermo . He and King Håkon exchanged gifts, and Lexow believed that the head may have been just such a gift from the period 1230-40. Furthermore, he assumed that the head was given a central place in Store Kristkirke, which was located north of Håkonshallen and was the coronation church. When Store Kristkirke was demolished on orders from Eske Bille in 1531, Lexow believed that the Hanseatic League took care of the head and used it as a mark for Svensgården, which at the time was being rebuilt after a fire. Such marking of the farms was important at a time when many could neither read nor write. The head at Svensgården has few parallels in European art, and the design of the nose, mouth and beard points, in Lexow's opinion, to antiquity , when the Christian image of God was still influenced by portraits of Zeus .
Preservation and destruction
Throughout history, Bergen has experienced many fires, since the building mass mostly consisted of wood. The building structure has nevertheless been preserved, despite many fires and subsequent reconstructions. Awareness of Bryggen's cultural-historical value was awakened already when the traditional business at Bryggen came to an end. In 1900, the wooden buildings on both sides of Vågen were largely intact.
Research and documentation
Johan Wilhelm Olsen (also known as Johan Wiberg Olsen; 1829-98), who had run Nordic trade in Finnegården, established the Hanseatic Museum as early as 1872, and reckons July 26 as the opening day when King Oscar II visited the town and the museum. His son Christian Koren Wiberg continued the work and sold the museum to Bergen municipality in 1916. In 1899 he published Det tische Kontor i Bergen , a description of the old Hanseatic buildings with a number of illustrations.
In 1908, Koren Wiberg received support from the municipality and the Ancient Heritage Association to carry out excavations in the plot below the newly constructed Rosenkrantzgaten. Findings from the excavation were reproduced, among other things, in Contribution to Bergen's Cultural History . The excavations uncovered the so-called wine cellar , which in the Middle Ages was also the town hall. Koren Wiberg had found documents (from 1651) in Lübeck showing the location of the wine cellar, which he was able to confirm during the excavation. This town plan with a town hall/wine cellar located between the market square and the church was typical of North German (Hanseatic) trading towns.
During the excavations in the southern part of the Bryggen, Christian Koren Wiberg found deep foundations of rough logs laid together. The lafting formed "vessels" over 2 meters high, and about 1 meter wide and 2 meters long. The vessels were assembled and lowered into the water between piles, and then filled with gravel and stone. The logs were made of pine and in good condition when Koren Wiberg made his excavations. The foundations could be dated to the fires in 1413 and 1476 or earlier. According to Koren Wiberg, the first sea houses at Vågen were low and made of coarse, lath timber. They had pointed gables and corridors around the entire building. According to Koren Wiberg, Bryggen's facade was already painted from the 16th century. From 1550 it became common to build stone cellars in Bergen, probably to store goods in a fire-proof place, according to Koren Wiberg. Hans Nagel's bakery, mentioned in 1441, Koren Wiberg located at the modern Øvregaten 17 , where a bakery was also run in Koren Wiberg's time.
Murbryggen
Until 1901, the entire area between Dreggsallmenningen in the north and Kjøttbazaren in the south was a continuous series of wooden trading houses that had been rebuilt after the town fire in 1702 . The commercial farms south of the Nikolaikirkeallmenningen were then demolished and replaced with brick apartment buildings in the same style, designed by Jens Zetlitz Monrad Kielland , with the exception of the southernmost Finnegården , a museum that also includes the old Schøtstuene which was rebuilt in 1937–38 with partially original and partially reconstructed parts, in the area south of St. Mary's Church .
Conservation
After the first act on building conservation was passed in 1920, the conservation list from Bergen was adopted in 1927. The conservation covered all the buildings on Bryggen, so that the overall cultural environment was safeguarded.
The explosion at Vågen
The explosion accident on 20 April 1944 accelerated the plans to demolish the Bryggen, and Terboven received the support of all professionals in Bergen municipality in his desire to raze the area to the ground. Seen through Terboven's eyes, the labyrinthine system of farms was ideal for hiding resistance fighters, such as the Theta group and their radio transmitter . Strong forces in the local population nevertheless succeeded in obtaining support, not least from Professor Hermann Phleps of the Technical College in Danzig ( Gdańsk ), who made a thorough inspection of the destroyed buildings, and concluded that the "German quarter" could be saved with simple means. The real rescue was the emergency product "Domus plates", which got soaked in the rain and easily broke. But they were still useful, as they temporarily covered 8,000 square meters of roof space. The demolished roofs were not the only problem. The explosion had also lifted Bryggen into the air, and let it fall back down onto the ground, so that a jack had to be used to get the houses more or less at an angle again. But the safeguarding had been carried out, not least to the delight of architect Halvor Vreim from the Riksantikvaren , who had already written off the Bryggen.
The fire of 1955
A major fire on 4 July 1955 destroyed the northern half of the remaining old wooden trading yards. The fire was the start of Asbjørn Herteig's excavations of the area. In the spring of 1962, the excavations entered their seventh season, made possible by the use of civilian workers in the summer. One year, spring came so late that the civil workers had to chip away 13 inches of ice to get started.
The facades of the burned-down part were rebuilt as copies in 1980 , and form part of the SAS hotel located in the area. The Bryggens Museum is also located on the fire site with remains from the oldest times uncovered by the archaeological excavations, which added enormous source material to the research.
Inscription on the UNESCO World Heritage List
Bryggen in Bergen was listed on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1979 according to cultural criterion III , which refers to a place that "bears a unique, or at least rare, testimony of a cultural tradition or of a living or extinct civilization". In this connection, UNESCO points out that Bryggen bears witness to social organization and illustrates how the Hanseatic merchants in the 14th century utilized the space in their part of the city, and that it is a type of northern fondaco (combined trading depot, housing and ghetto for foreign merchants) which cannot be found anywhere else in the world, where the buildings have remained part of the urban landscape and preserve the memory of one of the oldest trading posts in Northern Europe.
Ownership and management
Most of the buildings on Bryggen are privately owned. "Stiftelsen Bryggen" currently owns 36 of the 61 buildings that are part of the world heritage. "Stiftelsen Bryggen" and "Friends of Bryggen" were formed in 1962. The purpose of the foundation is to preserve Bryggen in consultation with antiquarian authorities. The foundation is engaged in both rental of premises and security, maintenance and restoration work. Stiftelsen Bryggen has its own staff of carpenters with special expertise in traditional crafts . "Bryggen private farm owners' association" is an association of several private owners who together own 24 buildings. Bergen municipality owns Finnegården , the building that houses the Hanseatic Museum. All the buildings in private ownership can be renovated with up to 90% funding through a grant scheme administered by Vestland county municipality (formerly Hordaland). The listed buildings at Bryggen are managed as cultural monuments by the cultural heritage section of Vestland county municipality. The archaeological cultural monuments in the medieval grounds are managed by the Swedish National Archives . All archaeological work is 100% publicly funded and the necessary excavations are carried out by NIKU .
Other buildings in the area
Bryggen's museum is built where there were wharf yards until the big fire on 4 July 1955.
The Hanseatic Museum is located on the Bryggen, by the Fisketorget, and tells the story of Bergen and the Hanseatic League.
The meat market is the city's bazaar for foodstuffs, built in 1874 – 76 in the neo-Romanesque style .
Mariakirken in Bergen dates from the 12th century, and between 1408 and 1766 was the church of the Hanseatic League. Services were held in German here until 1868.
The Schøtstuene were the assembly houses for the residents of the commercial farms, used for meals and as party halls, court and meeting rooms, rebuilt in 1937 – 38 .
Streets in the district
Bradbench (Bergen)
Castle Street (Bergen)
Bryggen (Street in Bergen)
Sandbrogaten (Bergen)
The hook (Bergen)
Dreggsallmenningen (Bergen)
Upper Dreggsallmenningen (Bergen)
Øvregaten (Bergen)
Rosenkrantzgaten (Bergen)
Nikolaikircheallmenningen (Bergen)
Lodin Lepps street
Finnegårdsgaten (Bergen)
Vetrlids general
Bergen is a city and municipality in Vestland and a former county (until 1972) on Norway's west coast, surrounded by " De syv fjell ", and referred to as " Westland's capital". According to tradition, Bergen was founded by Olav Kyrre in 1070 with the name Bjørgvin , which means "the green meadow between the mountains".
Bergen is a trading and maritime city, and was Norway's capital in the country's heyday, later referred to as the Norgesveldet . Bergen became the seat of the Gulatinget from the year 1300. From approx. In 1360, the Hanseatic League had one of its head offices in Bergen, a trading activity that continued at Bryggen until 1899. Bergen was the seat of Bergenhus county and later Bergen stiftamt . The city of Bergen became its own county (county) in 1831 and was incorporated into Hordaland county in 1972. Bergen was the largest city in the Nordic countries until the 17th century and Norway's largest city until the 1830s, and has since been Norway's second largest city .
Bergen municipality had 291,940 inhabitants on 31 December 2023. Bergen township had 259,958 inhabitants per 6 October 2020. This was an increase of 2,871 inhabitants since 2019. [4] In 2023, the metropolitan region of Bergen and surrounding areas had 414,863 inhabitants.
Bergen is a city of residence for a number of important actors and institutions in culture, finance, health, research and education. The city is the seat of Vestland County Municipality , Gulating County Council and Bjørgvin Bishopric . Of the national government agencies , the Directorate of Fisheries , the Institute of Marine Research , the Norwegian Competition Authority , the Ship Registers and the Norwegian Navy's main base are located in Bergen.
Bergen is the center for marine, maritime and petroleum-related research environments and business clusters that are among the most complete and advanced in the world. Bergen has a strong and versatile business community, especially in banking and insurance, construction, trade and services, high technology, mass media, the food industry, tourism and transport. Bergen has one of the Nordic countries' busiest airports and one of Europe's largest and busiest ports [5] , and is the starting point for Hurtigruten and the Bergen Railway .
Bryggen in Bergen is listed on UNESCO's World Heritage List and reminds of the city's historical connection to the Hanseatic League . Bergen's city coat of arms with a silver three-towered castle standing on seven gold mountains is based on the city's old seal , which is considered Norway's oldest. Bergen's city song is called "Views from Ulrikken" .
Venus was nothing compared to the girl. Her clothes trailed alluringly across the floor; her satin evening gown with the magnificent broach, her long shiny gloves, gorgeous Sable Fur all were laid out in seductive, overlying curls as she had slinked through the room, leaving behind her the telling path of unmistakably rich prey. The beginning of which held a feast for the tracking predator who knew how to read the signs.
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The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research for the following Doctoral dissertation:
Light to the shadows of their mind:
Criminal tactics and strategies
Criminology Department .
Chatwick University
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If there was ever one thing I savored the most about my chosen profession I would have to say it was the lavish receptions, balls and other posh settings where the frills of the filthy rich could be both admired and enjoyed. There was just something about the voluptuous ladies who haunted these venues, dressed up to the silky nines and sporting flashy ornaments, which I found so very mesmerizing.
Take the young lady in whose spell I was currently basking. She was wearing a slinky long satin number that appeared to have been poured along her enticing figure. A diamond brooch sparkled from just below her perky breasts. Her opulent gemstone jewels, surrounded by sparkling diamonds, shone like cat eyes when caught by the lights. I studied her the way one would appraise a painting by an old master, closely examining everything I could that pertained to her. If this work of art went by a name, I would title it: Eileen, a study in opulence.
I could also see that I wasn’t the only one who was paying Eileen attention. The man she was seeing appeared, as usual to be caught up in the ladies enchantment this evening. I had seen the couple together several times, but tonight he seemed to be especially attentive to her. There was definitely electricity in the air between them. Which was good, for tonight would be the night to pounce, paying the witchy young lady and her jewels a long anticipated nocturnal visit in the wee hours of the morning.
I had heard about Eileen through a paid source close by in Sutton. She had been an orphan at a young age and brought up properly by a war-widowed grandmother. The Grandmother had been wealthy, and when she passed on she had left 22 year old Eileen with a small fortune. Along with the Grandmothers wealth, Eileen inherited from the old lady three major facets, a spoiled naivety, a gullible ego, and a massive jewelry collection. Which all together presented a very enticing combination for someone like me.
Eileen wore her grandmother’s jewels with reckless abandonment, so I was told, and that is what made her stand out to those who sell information to people like me. Like a hungry predator, I shadowed Eileen for an entire month as she bounced from night club to private club, from extravagant balls, to ultra-fancy ritzy dances. I got to see her and her collection of jewels in close proximity, and it was love at every sighting. I even stole a dance away from her escort, when he was away making one of his frequent business calls. She was wearing a puffy gown of rich taffeta, with silvery diamonds that flashed as they cascaded down from her ears throat. It was a slow dance and I was able to tune out her constant babbling and concentrate on appraising her jewels. After the dance I kissed her gloved hand with its heavily ringed fingers, and bid au revoir, before quickly getting lost in the crowd before her lover returned.
The whole time I closely watched over Eileen and her latest Beau, a charming man named Claude who spoke with a heavy French accent. I quickly learned everything I could about the pair’s background, their relationship, their friends, their habits. Several times I had left them alone while when they were safely partying out on the town, and did a trail run by the ladies residence. This was a secluded small stone mini-mansion, located deep in the woods on the far outskirts of town that had been her Grandmothers weekend retreat. I had plenty of time to study, so that by the time the evening arrived when I would make my move, I had it all plotted out, taking into consideration every angle. I was ready, and actually had been so for over a week prior to this evening.
I followed the happy couple home that evening, and waited while they got down to business. I was calm, my nerves knew no anxiety. I spirited away back to my car and changed into my proper “ business” attire ( black clothes, gloves and mask). I had witnessed Eileen and Claude putting on the same show for several late evenings, and I knew just when to strike. And, then, strike I did.
Like a shadow I moved, becoming part of the background. Reaching the house I stole in through a basement window which I had loosened the week before. I cautiously moved inside, using my torch only sparingly. I made my way up through the basement to the first level, pausing only for a few precious seconds to observe the pricy landscapes that hung from the walls, but I did not touch, for that was not my game.
I crept up the stairs to the sitting room of the master bedroom, Eileen’s grandmother’s old room. It stood as a shrine to the old lady, right down to her old white cat lying on the primly made bed. The cat watched me untrustingly before hissing and running off into some dark corner. I went over and pulled back a self-portrait of the old lady, behind which was a small wall safe. It’s amazing how easy these things are to spot. The tumblers satisfactorily whirled and clicked home, allowing me to open silently and peek into its small chamber. A number of jewel cases of various shapes and makes were exposed to my torch. Quickly I emptied them, watching as jewel after jewel slithered brightly into my satchel. I replaced each case, and after the last was disposed of its contents, I closed it back up and made my way to the fair Eileen’s boudoir.
Venus was nothing compared to the viixen Eileen. Her clothes laid an alluring path across the sitting room floor; her satin evening gown with the magnificent broach, her long shiny gloves, gorgeous Sable Fur, all were laying in seductive, overlapping curves like a carefully marked out trail leading one to a treasure of promised ecstasy. For Eileen and her paramour, that ecstasy was to be found where the trail ended, in her boudoir. For me, the ecstasy lay where the trail had begun, the spot where she had removed her jewels before giving into the passion of the moment. The expensive pile gleamed invitingly, flickering like so many colorful cat eyes by my torches light. They were perched on her dresser, carelessly discarded for things so valuable, they snaked around the marble bird of prey that, alas, would soon prove a futile guardian.
I looked at the door to her bedroom, it was open a sliver and I could hear the raw animal sounds of their lovemaking. Obviously they were occupied for a while. Unhurriedly I carefully lifted each piece up, savoring their shimmering fire before stowing them safely away to join their mates. I then went to the gown on the floor and lifting it ran it through my fingers, it whispered and felt silky, even through my thin gloves. Reaching the brooch I carefully undid the clasp, pulling the jewel away. Dropping the gown, I then turned and silently retraced my steps. Gaining the cellar I watched out the window for any signs of activity. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t half expecting company.
As I waited I wondered who would be more upset over the loss of the grandmother’s jewelry, Eileen, or her “lover” Claude. For you see, “Claude” was a kindred spirit to my profession. He was known to me as Carl , a slick operator born in Brooklyn. He had also had correctly read the signs that Eileen possessed that made her a temptingly easy mark. For you see, Carl was the inside man for a gang of jet setting thieves. Cultured and handsome, it was his part to lure the chosen rich lady into his web and wine and dine her into complete compliancy in preparation of his actions. Once he had obtained her trust, he would select the perfect evening and “Claude” and his heavily jeweled paramour would be set upon by the thieves shortly after returning home on the designated evening. The Lady would be bound and gagged then be forced to watch as her home was stripped of its valuable treasures. The gang would leave with their haul, melting into obscurity with their treasure. Carl would disappear to his home overseas in New York until the next operation was formed. How Carl had found out about Eileen, I had no doubts. The type of blokes who peddled information on vulnerably wealthy prey have no problems with selling the same tidbits to multiple clients. It does have a tendency to make life a bit more interesting on occasion.
I had kept tabs on Eileen’s crooked paramour and soon learned that Carl’s actual girlfriend, who had been posing as his sister Maxine, had booked passage for two to the United States on a steamer leaving the very next weekend. I realized that my window of opportunity had been forced open. If he was preparing to flee the country on Saturday, as was his way immediately after a job, than I surmised that Eileen would be met with misadventure on Friday night before. This also happened to be the evening of a major charity Ball she had bought tickets for her and “Claude” to attend. So tonight, Saturday one week before the steamer was to leave, I made my own move hoping to beat Carl and his gang of scoundrels to the punch, at least where the grandmothers jewelry collection was concerned. I didn’t know if they would still attempt their plan once they realized the jewels had been lifted from under their noses, although, for Eileen’s sake, I hoped they would abandon them. Both ways, my tracks were covered, and before the sunrise I would be miles away.
I gave myself 15 precious minutes, before leaving via the window and making my escape. Nothing had stirred, in or around the house. So I had interpreted the signs correctly, the raid was not on for tonight. I quickly moved out and made for the tree line, melting into the night, soon losing myself (and Eileen’s Jewels) to the darkness.
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DISCLAIMER
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
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All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
***************************
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Trappings of the filthy rich
Homicide Memorial for 27 year old James Arroyo aka "Elmo" who was gunned down a few feet away from this location, at the Coastal gas station, located at 19th street and Walnut Avenue in Niagara Falls, New York. Many of his friends, family and several members of the Bloods gang community laid down red rags and food in his memory. His murder case is currently unsolved and no suspects have been named.
Link:
www.wgrz.com/mb/news/local/overnight-homicide-in-niagara-...
Disclaimer: Niagara Falls residents deny gang activity in Niagara Falls New York. Most residents will tell you there are no such things as gangs in Niagara Falls NY.
#compton #bompton #watts #inglewood #bloods #crips #blood #crip #losangeles #LA #southcentral #southLA #philadelphia #westcoast #losangelesconfidential #gang #ganggang #chiraq #brooklyn #bronx #harlem #queens #chicago #bloodgang #cripgang #meekmill #newyork #nyc #newyorkcity #houston
+++ DISCLAIMER +++
Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based on historical facts. BEWARE!
Some background:
Due to increasing tensions in Europe which led to World War 2, AVRO Aircraft started developing combat aircraft, and as a subsidiary of Hawker, they had access to the Hurricane plans. At the time that the Hurricane was developed, RAF Fighter Command consisted of just 13 squadrons, each equipped with either the Hawker Fury, Hawker Demon, or the Bristol Bulldog – all of them biplanes with fixed-pitch wooden propellers and non-retractable undercarriages. After the Hurricane's first flight, Avro started working on a more refined and lighter aircraft, resulting in a similar if not higher top speed and improved maneuverability.
The result was Avro’s project 675, also known as the "Swallow". The aircraft was a very modern and lightweight all-metal construction, its profile resembled the Hawker Hurricane but its overall dimensions were smaller, the Swallow appeared more squatted and streamlined, almost like a race version. The wings were much thinner, too, and their shape reminded of the Supermarine Spitfire’s famous oval wings. Unlike the Spitfire, though, the Swallow’s main landing gear had a wide track and retracted inwards. The tail wheel was semi-retractable on the prototype, but it was replaced by a simpler, fixed tail wheel on production models.
The Swallow made its first flight on 30th December 1937 and the Royal Air Force was so impressed by its performance against the Hurricane that they ordered production to start immediately, after a few minor tweaks to certain parts of the aircraft had been made.
On 25 July 1939, the RAF accepted their first delivery of Avro Swallow Mk. Is. The first machines were allocated to No.1 Squadron, at the time based in France, where they were used in parallel to the Hurricanes for evaluation. These early machines were powered by a 1.030 hp (770 kW) Rolls-Royce Merlin Mk II liquid-cooled V-12, driving a wooden two-bladed, fixed-pitch propeller. The light aircraft achieved an impressive top speed of 347 mph (301 kn, 558 km/h) in level flight – the bigger and heavier Hurricane achieved only 314 mph (506 km/h) with a similar engine. Like the Hurricane, the Swallow was armed with eight unsynchronized 0.303 in (7.7 mm) Browning machine guns in the outer wings, outside of the propeller disc.
In spring 1940, Avro upgraded the serial production Swallow Mk.I's to Mk.IA standard: the original wooden propeller was replaced by a de Havilland or Rotol constant speed metal propeller with three blades, which considerably improved performance. Many aircraft were retrofitted with this update in the field workshops in the summer of 1940.
In parallel, production switched to the Swallow Mk. II: This new version, which reached the frontline units in July 1940, received an uprated engine, the improved Rolls-Royce Merlin III, which could deliver up to 1,310 hp (977 kW) with 100 octane fuel and +12 psi boost. With the standard 87 Octane fuel, engine performance did not improve much beyond the Merlin II's figures, though. A redesigned, more streamlined radiator bath was mounted, too, and altogether these measures boosted the Swallow’s top speed to 371 mph (597 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m). This was a considerable improvement; as a benchmark, the contemporary Hurricane II achieved only 340 mph (547 km/h).
However, several fundamental weak points of the Swallow remained unsolved: its limited range could not be boosted beyond 300 miles (500 km) and the light machine gun armament remained unchanged, because the Swallow’s thin wings hardly offered more space for heavier weapons or useful external stores like drop tanks. Despite these shortcomings, the pilots loved their agile fighter, who described the Swallow as an updated Hawker Fury biplane fighter and less as a direct competitor to the Hurricane.
Being a very agile aircraft, the Swallow Mk. II became the basis for a photo reconnaissance version, too, the PR Mk. II. This was not a true production variant of the Swallow, though, but rather the result of field modifications in the MTO where fast recce aircraft were direly needed. The RAF Service Depot at Heliopolis in Egypt had already converted several Hurricanes Is for photo reconnaissance duties in January 1941, and a similar equipment update was developed for the nimble Swallow, too, despite its limited range.
The first five Swallow Mk. IIs were modified in March 1941 and the machines were outfitted with a pair of F24 cameras with 8-inch focal length lenses in the lower rear fuselage, outwardly recognizable through a shallow ventral fairing behind the cooler. Some PR Mk. IIs (but not all of them) were also outfitted with dust filters, esp. those machines that were slated to operate in Palestine and Northern Africa. For night operations some PR Mk. IIs also received flame dampers (which markedly reduced the engine’s performance and were quickly removed again) or simpler glare shields above the exhaust stacks.
The machines quickly proved their worth in both day and night reconnaissance missions in the Eastern Mediterranean theatre of operations, and more field conversions followed. Alternative camera arrangements were developed, too, including one vertical and two oblique F24s with 14-inch focal length lenses. More Swallow Mk. IIs were converted in this manner in Malta during April (six) and in Egypt in October 1941 (four). A final batch, thought to be of 12 aircraft, was converted in late 1941.
Even though the Swallow PR Mk. IIs were initially left armed with the wing-mounted light machine guns, many aircraft lost their guns partly or even fully to lighten them further. Most had their wing tips clipped for better maneuverability at low altitudes, a feature of the Swallow Mk. III fighter that had been introduced in August 1941. Some machines furthermore received light makeshift underwing shackles for photoflash bombs, enabling night photography. These were not standardized, though, a typical field workshop donor were the light bomb shackles from the Westland Lysander army co-operation and liaison aircraft, which the Swallow PR Mk. IIs partly replaced. These allowed a total of four 20 lb (9.1 kg) bombs or flash bombs for night photography to be carried and released individually through retrofitted manual cable pulls. The mechanisms were simply mounted into the former machine gun bays and the pilot could release the flash bombs sequentially through the former gun trigger.
For duties closer to the front lines a small number of Swallow PR Mk. IIs were further converted to Tactical Reconnaissance (Tac R) aircraft. An additional radio was fitted for liaison with ground forces who were better placed to direct the aircraft, and the number of cameras was reduced to compensate for the gain of weight.
However, by 1942, the Swallow had already reached its limited development potential and became quickly outdated in almost any aspect. Since the Supermarine Spitfire had in the meantime been successfully introduced and promised a much bigger development potential, production of the Avro Swallow already ceased in late 1942 after 435 aircraft had been built. Around the same time, the Swallows were quickly phased out from front-line service, too. Several machines were retained as trainers, messenger aircraft or instructional airframes. 20 late production Mk. IIs were sold to the Irish Air Corps, and a further 50 aircraft were sent to Canada as advanced fighter trainers, where they served until the end of the hostilities in 1945.
General characteristics:
Crew: 1
Length: 28 ft 1 in (8.57 m)
Wingspan: 33 ft 7 in (10.25 m)
Height: 8 ft 6 in (2.60 m)
Wing area: 153 ft² (16.40 m²)
Empty weight: 3,722 lb (1,720 kg)
Gross weight: 5,100 lb (2,315 kg)
Powerplant:
1× Rolls-Royce Merlin III liquid-cooled V-12, rated at 1,310 hp (977 kW) at 9,000 ft (2,700 m)
Performance:
Maximum speed: 381 mph (614 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m)
Range: 360 miles (580 km)
Service ceiling: 36,000 ft (10,970 m)
Rate of climb: 2,780 ft/min (14.1 m/s)
Wing loading: 29.8 lb/ft² (121.9 kg/m²)
Power/mass: 0.15 hp/lb (0.25 kW/kg)
Armament:
No internal guns
2x underwing hardpoints for a pair of 19-pound (8.6 kg) photoflash bombs each
The kit and its assembly:
This is the third incarnation of a whif that I have built some time ago for a Battle of Britain Group Build at whatifmodellers.com. This fictional machine – or better: its model – is based on a profile drawing conceived by fellow forum member nighthunter: an Avia B.135, outfitted with a Merlin engine, a ventral radiator in the style of a Hawker Hurricane, and with RAF markings. It was IIRC a nameless design, so that I created my own for it: the Avro 675 Swallow, inspired by the bird's slender wing and body that somehow resonates in the clean B.35 lines (at least for me).
I’ve already built two of these fictional aircraft as early WWII RAF fighters, but there was still potential in the basic concept – primarily as a canvas for the unusual livery (see below). The basis became, once again, the vintage KP Models B.35 fighter with a fixed landing gear. It’s a sleek and pretty aircraft, but the kit’s quality is rather so-so (the molds date back to 1974). Details are quite good, though, especially on the exterior, you get a mix of engraved and raised surface details. But the kit’s fit is mediocre at best, there is lots of flash and the interior is quite bleak. But, with some effort, things can be mended.
Many donation parts for the Swallow, beyond the Merlin engine, propeller and (underwing) radiator, and pitot, were taken in this case from a Revell 1:72 Spitfire Mk. V. Inside of the cockpit I used more Spitfire donor material, namely the floor, dashboard, seat and rear bulkhead/headrest with a radio set. The blurry, single-piece canopy was cut into three pieces for optional open display on the ground, but this was not a smart move since the material turned out to be very thin and, even worse, brittle – cracks were the unfortunate result.
New landing gear wells had to be carved out of the massive lower wing halves. Since the original drawn Swallow profile did not indicate the intended landing gear design, I went for an inward-retracting solution, using parts from the Spitfire and just mounted them these “the other way around”. Due to the oil cooler in one of the wing roots, though, the stance ended up a little wide, but it’s acceptable and I stuck to this solution as I already used it on former Swallow builds, too. But now I know why the real-world B.135 prototype had its landing gear retract outwards – it makes more sense from an engineering point of view.
The Merlin fitted very well onto the B.35 fuselage, diameter and shape are a very good match, even though there’s a small gap to bridge – but that’s nothing that could not be mended with a bit of 2C putty and PSR. A styrene tube inside of the donor engine holds a styrene pipe for a long metal axis with the propeller, so that it can spin freely. The large chin fairing for a dust filter is a transplant from an AZ Models Spitfire, it helps hide the ventral engine/fuselage intersection and adds another small twist to this fictional aircraft. From the same source came the exhaust stacks, Revell’s OOB parts are less detailed and featured sinkholes, even though the latter would later hardly be recognizable.
With the dust filter the Swallow now looks really ugly in a side view, it has something P-40E-ish about it, and the additional bulge behind the radiator for the cameras (certainly not the best place, but the PR Hurricanes had a similar arrangement) does not make the profile any better!
Further small mods include anti-glare panels above and behind the exhaust stacks (simple 0.5 mm styrene sheet), and the small underwing flash bombs were scratched from styrene profile material.
Painting and markings:
The livery was the true motivation to build this model, as a canvas to try it out: Long ago I came across a very interesting Hawker Hurricane camouflage in a dedicated book about this type, a simple all-over scheme in black blue, also known as “Bosun Blue”, together with very limited and toned-down markings. As far as I could find out this livery was used in the Middle East and later in India, too, for nighttime photo reconnaissance missions.
However, defining this color turned out to be very difficult, as I could not find any color picture of such an aircraft. I guess that it was not a defined color, but rather an individual field mix with whatever was at hand – probably roundel blue and black? Therefore, I mixed the obscure Bosun Blue myself, even though this took some sorting out and experiments. I initially considered pure Humbrol 104 (Oxford Blue) but found it to have a rather reddish hue. FS 35042 (USN Sea Blue) was rejected, too, because it was too greenish, even with some black added. I eventually settled on a mix of Humbrol 15 (Midnight Blue) and 33 (Flat Black), which appeared as a good compromise and also as a very dark variant of a cyan-heavy blue tone.
The cockpit interior and the inside of the landing gear wells were painted with RAF cockpit green (Humbrol 78), while the landing gear struts became aluminum (Humbrol 56) – pretty standard.
The decals/markings were puzzled together from various sources. Using a real-world RAF 208 Squadron MTO night photography Hurricane as benchmark I gave the aircraft a light blue individual code letter (decals taken from the Revell Spitfire Mk. V's OOB sheet, which has the letters’ Sky tone totally misprinted!). The spinner was painted in the same tone, mixed individually to match the letter.
Markings were apparently generally very limited on these machines, e. g. they did not carry any unit letter code) and the Type B roundels only on fuselage and upper wings. The latter were improvised, with wacky Type B-esque roundels from a Falkland era Sea Harrier placed on top of RAF roundels with yellow edges. The sources I consulted were uncertain whether these rings were yellow, white, or maybe even some other light color, but I went for yellow as it was the RAF's markings standard. Looks odd, but also pretty cool, esp. with the Type B roundels’ slightly off proportions.
The subdued two-color fin flash on the dark aircraft was/is unusual, too, and following real world practice on some PR Hurricanes I added a thin white edge for better contrast. The small black serial on a white background, as if it was left over from an overpainted former fuselage band, came from a Latvian Sopwith Camel (PrintScale sheet); in RAF service N8187 would have been used during the pre-WWII period and therefore a plausible match for the Swallow, even though it belongs to a batch of RN aircraft (It would probably have been a Fairey Fulmar)..
No black ink washing was applied to the model due to its dark overall color, just the cockpit and the landing gear were treated this way. Some light weathering and panel shading was done all over, and soot stains as well as light grey “heat-bleached” areas due to lean combustion around the exhausts were painted onto the fuselage. Finally, everything was sealed under a coat of matt acrylic varnish (Italeri) and wire antennae (stretched sprue material) were added.
A simple project, realized in a couple of days – thanks to the experience gathered during former builds of this fictional aircraft. However, the Avro Swallow looked already promising in nighthunter's original profile, almost like a missing link between the sturdy Hurricane and the more glorious Spitfire. The result looks very convincing, and the all-blue livery suits the aircraft well! . At first glance, the Swallow looks like an early Spitfire, but then you notice the different wings, the low canopy and the shorter but deeper tail. You might also think that it was a travestied Yak-3 or LaGG aircraft, but again the details don’t match, it’s a quite subtle creation.
I am amazed how good this thing looks overall, with its elegant, slender wings and the sleek fuselage lines – even though the dust filter and the camera fairing strongly ruin the side profile. Maybe another one will join my RAF Swallow collection someday, this time in Irish Air Corps colors.
+++ DISCLAIMER +++
Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based on historical facts. BEWARE!
Some background:
Due to increasing tensions in Europe which led to World War 2, AVRO Aircraft started developing combat aircraft, and as a subsidiary of Hawker, they had access to the Hurricane plans. At the time that the Hurricane was developed, RAF Fighter Command consisted of just 13 squadrons, each equipped with either the Hawker Fury, Hawker Demon, or the Bristol Bulldog – all of them biplanes with fixed-pitch wooden propellers and non-retractable undercarriages. After the Hurricane's first flight, Avro started working on a more refined and lighter aircraft, resulting in a similar if not higher top speed and improved maneuverability.
The result was Avro’s project 675, also known as the "Swallow". The aircraft was a very modern and lightweight all-metal construction, its profile resembled the Hawker Hurricane but its overall dimensions were smaller, the Swallow appeared more squatted and streamlined, almost like a race version. The wings were much thinner, too, and their shape reminded of the Supermarine Spitfire’s famous oval wings. Unlike the Spitfire, though, the Swallow’s main landing gear had a wide track and retracted inwards. The tail wheel was semi-retractable on the prototype, but it was replaced by a simpler, fixed tail wheel on production models.
The Swallow made its first flight on 30th December 1937 and the Royal Air Force was so impressed by its performance against the Hurricane that they ordered production to start immediately, after a few minor tweaks to certain parts of the aircraft had been made.
On 25 July 1939, the RAF accepted their first delivery of Avro Swallow Mk. Is. The first machines were allocated to No.1 Squadron, at the time based in France, where they were used in parallel to the Hurricanes for evaluation. These early machines were powered by a 1.030 hp (770 kW) Rolls-Royce Merlin Mk II liquid-cooled V-12, driving a wooden two-bladed, fixed-pitch propeller. The light aircraft achieved an impressive top speed of 347 mph (301 kn, 558 km/h) in level flight – the bigger and heavier Hurricane achieved only 314 mph (506 km/h) with a similar engine. Like the Hurricane, the Swallow was armed with eight unsynchronized 0.303 in (7.7 mm) Browning machine guns in the outer wings, outside of the propeller disc.
In spring 1940, Avro upgraded the serial production Swallow Mk.I's to Mk.IA standard: the original wooden propeller was replaced by a de Havilland or Rotol constant speed metal propeller with three blades, which considerably improved performance. Many aircraft were retrofitted with this update in the field workshops in the summer of 1940.
In parallel, production switched to the Swallow Mk. II: This new version, which reached the frontline units in July 1940, received an uprated engine, the improved Rolls-Royce Merlin III, which could deliver up to 1,310 hp (977 kW) with 100 octane fuel and +12 psi boost. With the standard 87 Octane fuel, engine performance did not improve much beyond the Merlin II's figures, though. A redesigned, more streamlined radiator bath was mounted, too, and altogether these measures boosted the Swallow’s top speed to 371 mph (597 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m). This was a considerable improvement; as a benchmark, the contemporary Hurricane II achieved only 340 mph (547 km/h).
However, several fundamental weak points of the Swallow remained unsolved: its limited range could not be boosted beyond 300 miles (500 km) and the light machine gun armament remained unchanged, because the Swallow’s thin wings hardly offered more space for heavier weapons or useful external stores like drop tanks. Despite these shortcomings, the pilots loved their agile fighter, who described the Swallow as an updated Hawker Fury biplane fighter and less as a direct competitor to the Hurricane.
Being a very agile aircraft, the Swallow Mk. II became the basis for a photo reconnaissance version, too, the PR Mk. II. This was not a true production variant of the Swallow, though, but rather the result of field modifications in the MTO where fast recce aircraft were direly needed. The RAF Service Depot at Heliopolis in Egypt had already converted several Hurricanes Is for photo reconnaissance duties in January 1941, and a similar equipment update was developed for the nimble Swallow, too, despite its limited range.
The first five Swallow Mk. IIs were modified in March 1941 and the machines were outfitted with a pair of F24 cameras with 8-inch focal length lenses in the lower rear fuselage, outwardly recognizable through a shallow ventral fairing behind the cooler. Some PR Mk. IIs (but not all of them) were also outfitted with dust filters, esp. those machines that were slated to operate in Palestine and Northern Africa. For night operations some PR Mk. IIs also received flame dampers (which markedly reduced the engine’s performance and were quickly removed again) or simpler glare shields above the exhaust stacks.
The machines quickly proved their worth in both day and night reconnaissance missions in the Eastern Mediterranean theatre of operations, and more field conversions followed. Alternative camera arrangements were developed, too, including one vertical and two oblique F24s with 14-inch focal length lenses. More Swallow Mk. IIs were converted in this manner in Malta during April (six) and in Egypt in October 1941 (four). A final batch, thought to be of 12 aircraft, was converted in late 1941.
Even though the Swallow PR Mk. IIs were initially left armed with the wing-mounted light machine guns, many aircraft lost their guns partly or even fully to lighten them further. Most had their wing tips clipped for better maneuverability at low altitudes, a feature of the Swallow Mk. III fighter that had been introduced in August 1941. Some machines furthermore received light makeshift underwing shackles for photoflash bombs, enabling night photography. These were not standardized, though, a typical field workshop donor were the light bomb shackles from the Westland Lysander army co-operation and liaison aircraft, which the Swallow PR Mk. IIs partly replaced. These allowed a total of four 20 lb (9.1 kg) bombs or flash bombs for night photography to be carried and released individually through retrofitted manual cable pulls. The mechanisms were simply mounted into the former machine gun bays and the pilot could release the flash bombs sequentially through the former gun trigger.
For duties closer to the front lines a small number of Swallow PR Mk. IIs were further converted to Tactical Reconnaissance (Tac R) aircraft. An additional radio was fitted for liaison with ground forces who were better placed to direct the aircraft, and the number of cameras was reduced to compensate for the gain of weight.
However, by 1942, the Swallow had already reached its limited development potential and became quickly outdated in almost any aspect. Since the Supermarine Spitfire had in the meantime been successfully introduced and promised a much bigger development potential, production of the Avro Swallow already ceased in late 1942 after 435 aircraft had been built. Around the same time, the Swallows were quickly phased out from front-line service, too. Several machines were retained as trainers, messenger aircraft or instructional airframes. 20 late production Mk. IIs were sold to the Irish Air Corps, and a further 50 aircraft were sent to Canada as advanced fighter trainers, where they served until the end of the hostilities in 1945.
General characteristics:
Crew: 1
Length: 28 ft 1 in (8.57 m)
Wingspan: 33 ft 7 in (10.25 m)
Height: 8 ft 6 in (2.60 m)
Wing area: 153 ft² (16.40 m²)
Empty weight: 3,722 lb (1,720 kg)
Gross weight: 5,100 lb (2,315 kg)
Powerplant:
1× Rolls-Royce Merlin III liquid-cooled V-12, rated at 1,310 hp (977 kW) at 9,000 ft (2,700 m)
Performance:
Maximum speed: 381 mph (614 km/h) at 20,000 ft (6,096 m)
Range: 360 miles (580 km)
Service ceiling: 36,000 ft (10,970 m)
Rate of climb: 2,780 ft/min (14.1 m/s)
Wing loading: 29.8 lb/ft² (121.9 kg/m²)
Power/mass: 0.15 hp/lb (0.25 kW/kg)
Armament:
No internal guns
2x underwing hardpoints for a pair of 19-pound (8.6 kg) photoflash bombs each
The kit and its assembly:
This is the third incarnation of a whif that I have built some time ago for a Battle of Britain Group Build at whatifmodellers.com. This fictional machine – or better: its model – is based on a profile drawing conceived by fellow forum member nighthunter: an Avia B.135, outfitted with a Merlin engine, a ventral radiator in the style of a Hawker Hurricane, and with RAF markings. It was IIRC a nameless design, so that I created my own for it: the Avro 675 Swallow, inspired by the bird's slender wing and body that somehow resonates in the clean B.35 lines (at least for me).
I’ve already built two of these fictional aircraft as early WWII RAF fighters, but there was still potential in the basic concept – primarily as a canvas for the unusual livery (see below). The basis became, once again, the vintage KP Models B.35 fighter with a fixed landing gear. It’s a sleek and pretty aircraft, but the kit’s quality is rather so-so (the molds date back to 1974). Details are quite good, though, especially on the exterior, you get a mix of engraved and raised surface details. But the kit’s fit is mediocre at best, there is lots of flash and the interior is quite bleak. But, with some effort, things can be mended.
Many donation parts for the Swallow, beyond the Merlin engine, propeller and (underwing) radiator, and pitot, were taken in this case from a Revell 1:72 Spitfire Mk. V. Inside of the cockpit I used more Spitfire donor material, namely the floor, dashboard, seat and rear bulkhead/headrest with a radio set. The blurry, single-piece canopy was cut into three pieces for optional open display on the ground, but this was not a smart move since the material turned out to be very thin and, even worse, brittle – cracks were the unfortunate result.
New landing gear wells had to be carved out of the massive lower wing halves. Since the original drawn Swallow profile did not indicate the intended landing gear design, I went for an inward-retracting solution, using parts from the Spitfire and just mounted them these “the other way around”. Due to the oil cooler in one of the wing roots, though, the stance ended up a little wide, but it’s acceptable and I stuck to this solution as I already used it on former Swallow builds, too. But now I know why the real-world B.135 prototype had its landing gear retract outwards – it makes more sense from an engineering point of view.
The Merlin fitted very well onto the B.35 fuselage, diameter and shape are a very good match, even though there’s a small gap to bridge – but that’s nothing that could not be mended with a bit of 2C putty and PSR. A styrene tube inside of the donor engine holds a styrene pipe for a long metal axis with the propeller, so that it can spin freely. The large chin fairing for a dust filter is a transplant from an AZ Models Spitfire, it helps hide the ventral engine/fuselage intersection and adds another small twist to this fictional aircraft. From the same source came the exhaust stacks, Revell’s OOB parts are less detailed and featured sinkholes, even though the latter would later hardly be recognizable.
With the dust filter the Swallow now looks really ugly in a side view, it has something P-40E-ish about it, and the additional bulge behind the radiator for the cameras (certainly not the best place, but the PR Hurricanes had a similar arrangement) does not make the profile any better!
Further small mods include anti-glare panels above and behind the exhaust stacks (simple 0.5 mm styrene sheet), and the small underwing flash bombs were scratched from styrene profile material.
Painting and markings:
The livery was the true motivation to build this model, as a canvas to try it out: Long ago I came across a very interesting Hawker Hurricane camouflage in a dedicated book about this type, a simple all-over scheme in black blue, also known as “Bosun Blue”, together with very limited and toned-down markings. As far as I could find out this livery was used in the Middle East and later in India, too, for nighttime photo reconnaissance missions.
However, defining this color turned out to be very difficult, as I could not find any color picture of such an aircraft. I guess that it was not a defined color, but rather an individual field mix with whatever was at hand – probably roundel blue and black? Therefore, I mixed the obscure Bosun Blue myself, even though this took some sorting out and experiments. I initially considered pure Humbrol 104 (Oxford Blue) but found it to have a rather reddish hue. FS 35042 (USN Sea Blue) was rejected, too, because it was too greenish, even with some black added. I eventually settled on a mix of Humbrol 15 (Midnight Blue) and 33 (Flat Black), which appeared as a good compromise and also as a very dark variant of a cyan-heavy blue tone.
The cockpit interior and the inside of the landing gear wells were painted with RAF cockpit green (Humbrol 78), while the landing gear struts became aluminum (Humbrol 56) – pretty standard.
The decals/markings were puzzled together from various sources. Using a real-world RAF 208 Squadron MTO night photography Hurricane as benchmark I gave the aircraft a light blue individual code letter (decals taken from the Revell Spitfire Mk. V's OOB sheet, which has the letters’ Sky tone totally misprinted!). The spinner was painted in the same tone, mixed individually to match the letter.
Markings were apparently generally very limited on these machines, e. g. they did not carry any unit letter code) and the Type B roundels only on fuselage and upper wings. The latter were improvised, with wacky Type B-esque roundels from a Falkland era Sea Harrier placed on top of RAF roundels with yellow edges. The sources I consulted were uncertain whether these rings were yellow, white, or maybe even some other light color, but I went for yellow as it was the RAF's markings standard. Looks odd, but also pretty cool, esp. with the Type B roundels’ slightly off proportions.
The subdued two-color fin flash on the dark aircraft was/is unusual, too, and following real world practice on some PR Hurricanes I added a thin white edge for better contrast. The small black serial on a white background, as if it was left over from an overpainted former fuselage band, came from a Latvian Sopwith Camel (PrintScale sheet); in RAF service N8187 would have been used during the pre-WWII period and therefore a plausible match for the Swallow, even though it belongs to a batch of RN aircraft (It would probably have been a Fairey Fulmar)..
No black ink washing was applied to the model due to its dark overall color, just the cockpit and the landing gear were treated this way. Some light weathering and panel shading was done all over, and soot stains as well as light grey “heat-bleached” areas due to lean combustion around the exhausts were painted onto the fuselage. Finally, everything was sealed under a coat of matt acrylic varnish (Italeri) and wire antennae (stretched sprue material) were added.
A simple project, realized in a couple of days – thanks to the experience gathered during former builds of this fictional aircraft. However, the Avro Swallow looked already promising in nighthunter's original profile, almost like a missing link between the sturdy Hurricane and the more glorious Spitfire. The result looks very convincing, and the all-blue livery suits the aircraft well! . At first glance, the Swallow looks like an early Spitfire, but then you notice the different wings, the low canopy and the shorter but deeper tail. You might also think that it was a travestied Yak-3 or LaGG aircraft, but again the details don’t match, it’s a quite subtle creation.
I am amazed how good this thing looks overall, with its elegant, slender wings and the sleek fuselage lines – even though the dust filter and the camera fairing strongly ruin the side profile. Maybe another one will join my RAF Swallow collection someday, this time in Irish Air Corps colors.
Cherryside an unsolved crime..... Discovered early this morning, two cherries, brutally massacred. The Cherrycide squad from fruitland yard are baffled by the lack of leads and clues. Could this be the return of Jack the juicer.....!?
Following artelisa on music-walls.
...
Ripple (unsolved as much as incomplete): What are Esther & Carla singing about ?
...
Please, give us your better propositions in an add-note including part of the lyrics (title, verse, theme, etc.) and insert a link (a href url) to a flickr corresponding illustration. Because this image is an hyper-image.
If you can't an add-note, add your proposition in a comment and I'll add-note for you !
Faux Detective
Married Couple Ballroom Blitz
There is a certain upper class jewelle emporium with a branch located in a rather large shopping centre. Recently across the way a fancy dress shoppe opened that custom tailors one of a kind dresses and gowns and tuxes.
The managers of the two stores managers came up with the idea of on weekends having their male employees dress in tuxes, while the predominately female clerks would wear gowns, dresses and jewelry loaned prospectively from each store.
One weekend just after term, a female clerk in a long flowing gown of satin and lace, regally shimmering in the diamond pendent earrings and ring she wore with it, waited upon a long haired, smartly attired young lady in search of a dress to wear at a posh affair. As she tried on a satin number that made her look like a movie star(which she decidedly was not) she could not take her eyes off the clerks jewellery. The clerk let her have a closer look and informed her exuberantly that they could be purchased at the Jewelle Emporium across the way.
The lady soon had a far off look in her eyes…
A Married couple were out for an evening attending an upper end ( although the sponsor’s would never admit the it was that exclusive) Charity Ball. It was being held to help defray the costs for the charities’ good works( for which the family member’s holding offices, president ,vice prescient, treasurer etc, received Lordly salaries in range of six figures!)
It was a large affair, the cavernous ballroom filled to capacity. The wealthy couple in their ten year marriage(after a five year engagement) were used to partying and they had quite a time of it, mingling, dancing, drink and enjoying various other forms of social merriment.
An existing Photograph shows them to be a very handsome couple that evening( as they always were). Him in a pristine tuxedo, black with tails , top hat and real silver knobbed cane, he sported a thinly trimmed reddish beard and devilish look sprouting from his steel grey eyes. She was the epitome of elegance and fine breeding, her well-endowed figure elegantly encased in a stunning long, slickly “wet appearing ” satin gown of a rich shade of teal. It gracefully flowed along, literally pouring along down her figure, accentuating every suggestive curve of her body. Also along that figure, Jewels, alive with fiery rippling sparks as they peeked seductively from her ears, neckline and wrists! They were a valuably matched display, set with vibrant diamonds and deep green emeralds. Her long bare fingers were home to several diamond encrusted rings, including, of course, the much talked about emerald, ruby and diamond friendship ring that held court magnificently on her petite left ring finger. Her longish flaming red hair was held up by even more jewels, a dazzling pair of diamond and emerald encrusted green enameled clips.
At the end of the evening , a short time after the “witching hour” the couple retired to their suite in the upper floors of the posh five star hotel located near the royally named venue that held the Charity Ball .
They went by foot, walking along the mist filled streets to their hotel, reaching their destination with no upsetting incidents. A little surprising considering how the couple were decked out for the evening.
But such is the nature of the ultra--wealthy, they believe their station places them above such lowly deeds, such as being victims of a crime, until it actually happens right under their upturned noses, or when someone makes a statement that jolts them into the realty of such disdainful things occurring…
They entered their room, full of anticipation of the night’s activities that lay ahead of them. A vaise of fresh roses lay on an antique oak table in one corner of the room, next to a bottle of chilled champagne and an assortment of cheese ,shelled nuts and sweet meats. The wife turned to her husband and made a comment, she thought in jest; the crackers offered by the hotel were not the ones she fancied, like the ones at the Ball. Eager, as always, to please his rather innocent bride, the husband offered to dash out right away to the ballroom to see if he could commandeer some of them for her, he promised not to tarry.
He left before she could stop him, she being in the process of removing her wrap; she put it back on and went to the door to hail her husband back. Opening the door she called out down the hall to her departing husband. Immediately she realized her mistake as the man turned, and she let out a little squeal of alarm. It was not her husband, but a stranger in a dapper black suit and sporting a finely trimmed beard. She, clutching her wrap tightly about her, the end of her gown flowing out from beneath the satin cover, she apologized, and he came to her, no problems he said, smiling winningly. She noticed that his jovial eyes were looking her over, as had so seen so many men do that evening, it was a performance that she had gotten used to. Actually, He went on, I missed your door, and he held out an official card identifying himself as an agent of Interpol. We are warning everyone in this hotel about a suspected robbery to occur this evening. She gasped robbery? He went on; I would like to speak to you and your husband when he returns. He may be gone for a bit she informed him, but what do you mean by a robbery?
He motioned for her to step back inside her suite; she did so, her heart still pounding by his mention of a potential robbery. He explained they were after an international jewel thief known as “Le Sheppard” whose trail had led them to a charity ball being held close by the hotel this evening. She gasped again, we were there, a, a jewel thief was there also? Still flabbergasted by his words she closed and automatically locked the door behind him. He explained that he was working with hotel security to inform the guests of the danger of losing their valuables, particularly jewelry, that evening. Other agents were covering the other hotels in the area. It was believed that “Le Sheppard” would strike sometime that evening at one of them, and they wanted to catch him red handed in the act of lifting some pretty lady’s jewels, but did not want to risk him getting away with any.
His job was to suggest that the female guest of the hotel place their jewels either in the room’s private vault, or the hotels main vault that evening for safekeeping. If you wish, I could take your jewels down to the main vault for you, he offered politely, indicating a small pouch at his side that held several leather cases. She gulped, buying into his story, but she bulked at allowing them to be placed in the vault, saying she would feel better if they were locked safely away in her suite. He then told her that the hotel safe was more secure, that even a novice thief would have no trouble sneaking into a suite, than emptying a rooms vault of its valuables. She smiled demurely, he would have to deal with my husband first. Ah, he said, your husband, what an incredibly lucky man he is to have a wife as breathtakingly beautiful as you are.
She actually bought into the man’s eloquent charms, as he inflated her ego by continuing on by telling the lady she looked absolutely stunning in the gown she wore, and had her swirl around so he could admire it from all angles. As she did he caught her, steadying her, didn’t want you to fall young lady. She was sure he was lying, that he was “copping a feel” as her girlfriend’s would say, but strangely she did not care, and even found it rather nice.
He also went on to glowing offer a few remarks on her loveliness, which made her blush even deeper, setting off her gowns color even more so than she did already. And so, with her now putty in his hands, she quite willingly received his advice on locking up her jewels immediately, and graciously accepted offer to help her as she removed her bracelet’s, necklace and rings( except her friendship one) in preparation. Even the clips he had her removed, which she did, shaking her long hair so that it fell down in fetching curls alongside her beaming face. She was feeling very thankful for the charming gentleman’s obvious concern over her losing her jewels to some rotten miscreant.
My husband likes my hair down anyway she had said to him, what do you think, she asked, almost purring, as he accepted this stranger now as a kind friend. But than your beautiful earrings wouldn’t sparkle he said logically. Exactly she answered, giving one of them a flick, I’m glad you see it my way. Definitely, I always like a lady to display her jewels proudly; it’s what I tell my wife he added. Are those screw fastened he asked, lifting up the other earring, watching it sparkle. Yes she said, and began to undo them, the whole set is antique, very old fashioned she admitted, they have been in my husband’s family for generations. My wife won’t wear earrings that fasten that way; too afraid they will slip off, an vanish he said, showing concern. My husband worries also she said confidently, that’s why all of our jewels are insured to the hilt, she admitted in a practical voice.
After all of the shimmering jewelry she was wearing about her person had been removed and piled onto the small antique oak table, he looked her over, up and down. He then suggested removing the rhinestone brooch from her gown, which, when she reached down to her waist to do so, found it was missing, not even a tear was apparent in her fine shiny gown from where it had been dangling . She looked at him, deeply perplexed, he opened his palm, displaying the shimmery brooch, and said that “Le Sheppard” had twice the skill as he had. Still stunned, she watched him produced one of the leather cases from the pouch at his side, compliments of the hotel, he said, opening it up. She smiled winningly as he had her place her jewels carefully inside. All the while she thanked him so much for the hotels concern. Not feeling him take her brooch off of her very person had made her now jittery as to what a real thief could do. He told her to think nothing of it, and with a sharp bow, pointed to her room’s small vault, high in a corner, its steel door set with a combination wheel and metal handle.
She walked over and as she opened the safe he primly turned his back as to not witness the vaults combination. When she had it opened he turned and handed her the case, telling her it was compliments of the hotel. As she took it from him and placed it inside, nestling it amongst several other small black cases, he noticed her friendship ring, that’s very pretty miss, he complimented her. She raised her hand in front of him so he could receive a better view and appreciate the rings fiery brilliance.
He caught her hand, admiring the wickedly sparkling ring. They both admired it, the jewel feverishly exploding with firework like pinpricks of colour. You should place that in the safe also m’lady( she like him calling her that) No worries dear sir, I sleep with this one. He took hold of the ring, “Le Sheppard” is known for his ability to slip off ladies jewelry as she sleeps, especially pretty rings, and remember your brooch? She gave a small gulp as she remembered not even suspecting it had been taken, you right she said, why take chances. She moved it along her finger, but it held snug. I suggest you us a little soap and water, the ring should come right off and we can both sleep better knowing it is securely locked away. She obediently went into the bath and did as he suggested. When she came out he was waiting for her at attention next to the open safe, it appeared that he had not changed his position even the slightest. He pulled out a silk handkerchief and drying the her finger, then took the ring and wrapped it up, then handed it to her and she took it, feeling the rings weight in the wrapped handkerchief, and placed it on top of the case. He closed the vault and spun the combination and tried the door, it held fast. Then with a curt little bow, he let himself out , telling her to lock the door behind him, let no one else in but your husband.
Later when the husband returned she told him about the visitor. He thought that it was very wise for security to warn the guests, and have the ladies lock up all their jewels as a precaution for when the thief struck. Hope the catch the cheeky blighter. Nervy of him to break into peoples rooms as they slept and steal a ladies jewels. Happened to my Grand-mum once, though it was when she was staying at our country manor.
He than opened the vault, saw the new case and the handkerchief, added his silver watch to the pile , closed and relocked it securely.
They slept in late the next morning and it wasn’t until they were getting ready to head out for breakfast that the young wife opened the safe to retrieve her friendship ring that she discovered the silk handkerchief contained, not her valuable ring, but a small walnut from the assortment on the antique stand. Further, looking inside the case he had had her place her evening jewels, she discovered in was empty as were the small back cases that had held some more of her jewellery, not worn out the evening before. The only item of value in the vault was her husband’s silver watch.
The debonair faux detective had left the wife’s luxurious suite, vanishing into the night, with almost £63000 worth of fine jewelry.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart.
And try to love the questions themselves."
~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~
For those who aren't familiar with this case, here's the story : D. B. Cooper, was an unidentified man who hijacked Northwest Orient Airlines Flight 305, a Boeing 727 aircraft on November 24, 1971.
During the flight from Portland, Oregon, to Seattle, Washington, Cooper told a flight attendant he had a bomb, demanded $200,000 in ransom and four parachutes upon landing in Seattle.
After released the passengers in Seattle, Cooper instructed the flight crew to refuel the aircraft.
About thirty minutes after taking off from Seattle, Cooper opened the aircraft's back door, and parachuted into the night over southwestern Washington carrying the money in a suitcase.
Cooper's true identity and whereabouts have never been determined.
My Odyssey of the Western Isles continues visiting the Flannan Isles
where I discovered a unsolved mystery with a more detailed account below.
I've edited from Wikipedia
Flannan Isles Lighthouse is a lighthouse near the highest point on Eilean Mòr, one of the Flannan Isles in the Outer Hebrides off the west coast of mainland Scotland. It is best known for the mysterious disappearance of its keepers in 1900.
No bodies were ever found, resulting in "fascinated national speculation" in newspapers and periodicals of the period.[14] Implausible stories ensued, such as a sea serpent (or giant seabird) had carried the men away; they had arranged for a ship to take them away and start new lives, they had been abducted by foreign spies; or they had met their fate through the malevolent presence of a boat filled with ghosts (the baleful influence of the "Phantom of the Seven Hunters" was widely suspected locally). More than ten years later, the events were still being commemorated and elaborated on. The 1912 ballad Flannan Isle by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson refers erroneously to an overturned chair and uneaten meal laid out on the table, indicating that the keepers had been suddenly disturbed.
Yet, as we crowded through the door,
We only saw a table spread
For dinner, meat, and cheese and bread;
But, all untouch'd; and no-one there,
As though, when they sat down to eat,
Ere they could even taste,
Alarm had come, and they in haste
Had risen and left the bread and meat,
For at the table head a chair
Lay tumbled on the floor.
However, in a first-hand account made by Moore, the relief keeper, he stated that: "The kitchen utensils were all very clean, which is a sign that it must be after dinner some time they left.
Northern Lighthouse Board investigation
On 29 December 1900, Robert Muirhead, a Northern Lighthouse Board (NLB) superintendent, arrived to conduct the official investigation into the incident. Muirhead had originally recruited all three of the missing men and knew them personally.[17][18]
Muirhead's examination of the lighthouse log book revealed some highly unusual entries. On December 12, Thomas Marshall wrote of "severe winds the likes of which I have never seen before in twenty years". He also reported that James Ducat had been ‘very quiet’ and Donald McArthur had been crying. McArthur was a veteran mariner with a reputation for brawling, and thus it would be strange for him to be crying in response to a storm. Log entries on the 13th of December stated that the storm was still raging, and that all three men had been praying. This was also puzzling, as all three men were experienced lighthouse keepers who knew they were in a secure structure 150 feet above sea level and should have known they were safe inside. Furthermore, there had been no reported storms in the area on the 12th, 13th and 14th of December, meaning that either the entries documenting the storm were made up or the storm was highly localized. The final log entry was made on the 15th of December, stating ‘Storm ended, sea calm. God is over all’.
He examined the clothing left behind in the lighthouse and concluded that James Ducat and Thomas Marshall had gone down to the western landing stage, and that Donald McArthur (the 'Occasional') had left the lighthouse during heavy rain in his shirt sleeves. He noted that whoever left the light last and unattended was in breach of NLB rules. He also noted that some of the damage to the west landing was "difficult to believe unless actually seen".[
From evidence which I was able to procure I was satisfied that the men had been on duty up till dinner time on Saturday the 15th of December, that they had gone down to secure a box in which the mooring ropes, landing ropes etc. were kept, and which was secured in a crevice in the rock about 110 ft (34 m) above sea level, and that an extra large sea had rushed up the face of the rock, had gone above them, and coming down with immense force, had swept them completely away.[20]
Whether this explanation brought any comfort to the families of the lost keepers is unknown. The deaths of Thomas Marshall, James Ducat (who left a widow and four children), and Donald MacArthur (who left a widow and two children) cast a shadow over the lighthouse service for many years.
Later theories and interpretations
Subsequent researchers have taken into account the geography of the islands. The coastline of Eilean Mòr is deeply indented with narrow gullies called geos. The west landing, which is situated in such a geo, terminates in a cave. In high seas or storms, water would rush into the cave and then explode out again with considerable force. It was possible MacArthur may have seen a series of large waves approaching the island, and knowing the likely danger to his colleagues, ran down to warn them only to be washed away as well in the violent swell. Recent research by James Love discovered that Marshall was previously fined five shillings when his equipment was washed away during a huge gale. It is likely, in seeking to avoid another fine, that he and Ducat tried to secure their equipment during a storm and were swept away as a result. The fate of MacArthur, although required to stay behind to man the lighthouse, can be guessed to be the same. Love speculates that MacArthur probably tried to warn or help his colleagues and was swept away too. This theory also has the advantages of explaining the set of oilskins remaining indoors and MacArthur's coat remaining on its peg, although perhaps not the closed door and gate. Another theory is based on the first-hand experiences of Walter Aldebert, a keeper on the Flannans from 1953 to 1957. He believed one man may have been washed into the sea but then his companions, who were trying to rescue him, were washed away by more freak waves.
A further proposal is based on the psychology of the keepers. Allegedly MacArthur was a volatile character; this may have led to a fight breaking out near the cliff edge by the West Landing that caused all three men to fall to their deaths. Another theory is that one of the men went insane (perhaps MacArthur, as evidenced by him leaving the lighthouse without his rain gear and his strange behaviour documented in the log book), murdered the other two, threw their bodies into the sea, and then jumped in to his own death.
Among modern theories are those connected to paranormal activity, such as abduction by aliens. Fictional use of this premise was featured in the Doctor Who serial Horror of Fang Rock. The mystery also was the inspiration for the composer Peter Maxwell Davies's modern chamber opera The Lighthouse (1979). The British rock group Genesis wrote and recorded "The Mystery of Flannan Isle Lighthouse" in 1968 while working on their first album, but it was not released until 1998 in Genesis Archive 1967–75. The 2018 film The Vanishing is also based on the same story.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flannan_Isles_Lighthouse
www.sundaypost.com/news/scottish-news/has-mystery-of-flan...
Lady with jewels 1898
Artist: Czachórski Władysław
Dimensions: 39.5 x 51.5 cm
Technique: oil, canvas
Władysław Czachórski (1850–1911) was a Polish artist.
In 1866 Władysław Czachorski attended the Warsaw Drawing School and had Rafał Hadziewicz as a peer. He then spent one year at the Dresden Academy, and from there went to the Munich Academy (1869-1873) others who studied there at the same time included: Hermann Anschütz, Karl von Piloty, and Alexander Wagner. He received Magna Cum Laude (the Grand Silver Medal) from Munich, and proceeded to travel to France, Italy and Poland after his graduation. He held membership of the Berlin Academy and was also organizer and judge of international exhibitions, even though he had his home in Munich. He was awarded the Bavarian Order of Saint Michael in 1893. In addition, he had many art exhibitions in Poland, taking place in Kraków, Warsaw and Łódź. He also exhibited in Lemberg, the capitol of Austrian Galicia. After his death in 1911, a posthumous exhibition was held at the Warsaw "Zachęta" Society of Fine Arts.
Some of Czachorski's noted works were: still lifes, painted portraits, and Shakespearean scenes. Of these, Juliet's Funeral (1873), Hamlet (1873), and, most notably, Hamlet Receiving the Players (1875), were widely recognized as his greatest works.
"The hallmark of Czachorski's style, however, and the basis of his fame, are his images of beautiful young women in rich interiors, painted with great realism. He has long been regarded a master of rendering fabrics, jewelry and other details to create the atmosphere of luxury and elegance."[1]
The painting , “ Lady with jewels “, was completed in 1898 Little is known about the Lady portrayed in the painting. But there is an interesting story involving some of her jewelry.
Her granddaughter and the granddaughter’s husband took a trip from Warsaw to Australia on their honeymoon. While sailing aboard a tramp steamer, they disappeared one evening after dinner. The steamer had moored in a cove along an island outside Somalia. The couple went for an evening stroll along the beach. He was still in his dinner tux, she was still wearing a long evening gown and diamond jewelry. When they did not return after midnight a search party was sent out and returned empty handed. A second one was dispatched later that morning to search in daylight, they also found no trace. The steamer left without them in the afternoon. They were never found. Interestingly their trunks containing all their belongings also vanished, along with the ladies remaining jewels, valued at over 4000000 lira. Some of the jewels missing had belonged to lady x when above the painting was commissioned. It is unknown if any of those jewels were in the painting.
We only know of this from an article in an old 1940’s italian university text book on art history. If anyone can provide more detailed information it would be greatly appreciated.
The famous sailing rocks on the Race Track in Death Valley. One of nature's unsolved mysteries. Nobody knows exactly how the rocks are moving along the dirt, leaving a path behind them.
Not many people go there, as it requires a 40 mile trip over a bumpy dirt road. It is remote, but beautiful.
I found this particular rock not far from the road, and marked it as one that I could come back to later, for the sunset. When the sunset finally came, it was spectacular. The soft orange and yellow glow was bouncing off the canyon walls. It was one of the most lovely sunsets I have ever seen. A true gift from nature!
-----------------------------
Camera Info:
Camera: Nikon D700
Lens: Nikon 16-35mm f/4
Focal Length: 16mm
Aperture: f/16
ISO: 200
Lee 2-stop GND filter, stacked with a Singh-Ray 1-stop reverse GND filter.
Post Processing:
This shot came out of the camera pretty much exactly as you see it. I tweaked the white balance slightly, to warm up the image, and added a bit of contrast.
Image of “Angie” first appeared : Best true detective cover July 1962
The story of the racket dames behind the sensational Park Avenue Jewel Robberies
*****
This is a link to a You Tube Video of a thief not unlike our Angie.
*********
Title: Now, if only she could find where that darling young miss, the one so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too?
Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual facts as originally recorded. Some names, times, places and some facts have been altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 1933
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Place: Resolution Ball - Baltimore (original incarnation)
Time: Evening, through early morning, of the dance
Story line:
Angie grinned, stowing away the emerald bracelet, as she smugly watched the police dragging away the struggling girl. Lit cigarette dangling from a corner of her lip; Angie smirked wickedly to herself as Ginny frantically tried to plead her innocence.
**
One of the coppers had her by the wrists; the other tried gripping her waist, finding it slippery by the satiny gown she was wearing. Ginny was pleading, it was not me, I don’t know how it got there, please let me go, my emeralds, my bracelet… its…its..I gone! I must find it, shrieked the struggling girl. Angie just listened to the girl, ginning; Ginny’s tearful words, spoken in her brash nasally east ender accent, wasn’t helping her cause with the pre-judgmental coppers.
One of them snarled loudly into her ear, ere ,you aint the kind to wear emeralds sister, we’ve got your number, it was her diamonds youse was after.
Actually, she had, Angie admitted to herself wickedly. Yes, dear Ginny had been wearing an emerald bracelet, the one Angie now had tucked securely away. Nevertheless, she chose not to enlighten the harness bulls on the matter, and smugly watched as the small group disappeared through the entrance, heading down to the eastside patrol car waiting at the street, as she let a wisp of cigarette smoke curl upwards from her sneering lips.
**
So it was now, with the emeralds safely tucked away, that Angie turned he back to the main door to watch down the long corridor as she continued puffing on her victory smoke. At the end of the hallway was the main entrance to the cavernous Ballroom where all action had all taken place leading up to poor Ginny’s arrest.
With a suspect now in custody, and two less security bulls, Angie was free to slip back in amongst the wealthy guests in attendance at the ball. Now, if only she could find where that darling young miss, the one so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too! She shivered deliciously at the mere thought of it. However, she decided to take her time finishing her cigarette, give things ample time to cool down, as she marveled at the opulence that seemed to bleed from every square inch of the Baltimore Palace this evening.
How Angie savored attending events held here, and visited the Baltimore area Ballroom several times whenever she was in town on “business”. The lighting, modern for the day, seemed to coax any piece of jewelry to sparkle. Making it ever so easy to focus on even the smallest (and sometimes most expensive) piece a fashionably dressed female would be wearing.
**
For you see, Angie was a master pickpocket, who, with the discovery and subsequent aid of a pamphlet written in the early 1800’s, was able to take her game to the next, more profitable level...
See Album: Angie Picks Chicago for the story of how she discovered the phamplette.
Entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip by “Gaston Monescu, 1826”, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets of the time, Including whole chapters on successful “Methodes” of relieving a well-dressed lady of her” jeweles”.
Angie had nimbly crafted a new art form of relieving wealthy women and rich girls of their valuable jewelry. She performed this feat by combining the tactics of an illusionist, with the delicate touch of “The Dip” ; Employing this method to nick the fiery sparklers while still warm from the unwary, usually be-gowned , figures ostentatiously displaying them!
**
Angie began to reflect on how the ballroom had looked when she had first entered some three hours previously. She had been eagerly anticipating the opportunities in store for her inside, and she was not disappointed in the very least. The place was packed wall to wall with guests dressed in their dapper nines for the annual event.
Like a kid in a candy shop, Angie had eagerly looked over the crowd, admiring the shiny, flowing gowns the female guests were wearing. Selecting and keenly observing dresses made of the richest, most form fitting material, for by long experience, these women wearing them would bring the most profit. By employing this method to narrow the field of selections, Angie was able to quickly to pinpoint on a piece of jewelry, make her move, and be gone before giving any security patrolling the area a chance to recognize her for what she was. It sometimes was as easy as taking candy from a baby, or as Angie like to imagine it, relieving a satin and lace clad innocent of her “silver spoon”
Angie than eagerly looked over the jewels of those she had chosen, vividly glittering their colourful joy at being brought out of the vault and worn for this evening’s festivities. She had been quite hard pressed to make a selection, so for the first 30 minutes or so, Angie just mingled about, following her whimsy.
Then she spotted Olivia. Elegant in a long slick purple gown of luxurious silk that flowed and moved tightly along her shapely figure as she flitted about, presenting the very picture of a tickle thief’s dream ( see addendum rr).. Young, flighty and loaded with beckoning diamonds, Angie began to stalk her in ever decreasing circles, hunting her slowly, deliberately, much as a snake in the grass would a tiny unsuspecting mouse. However, all too soon, Angie realized that this mouse was being watched over by someone else, like a hawk.
The hawks name was Ginny. Lower east end, rough as her cousin Olivia was polished, awkward in one of her cousins borrowed long satin gowns, she watched protectively over her mingling cousin from the sidelines, totally out of her element, ill-fitting right down to the only jewelry she wore, a shimmering elegant emerald bracelet that was obviously borrowed( probably from Olivia) . Angie weighed the consequences of an attempt on Olivia’s diamonds, deciding that there was plenty of less guarded prey, and so Angie reluctantly decided to let go of the scent.
**
It was not much later that Angie, from her new perch at one of the twin bars that lined opposite sides of the room, found herself eyeing a most interesting subject. She rose and began trailing behind the swishing gown of her new prospect. The fine taffeta gown was spilling down along the still voluptuous, if not a little pudgy, figure of an older, matronly looking lady with long hair of faded gold. Her longish hair was home to a glittering Diamond Head band, from which shimmering strings of diamonds were entertained in her still silky soft hair.
The lady stopped to chat with two other finely decked out women, giving Angie a chance to circle and leisurely eyeball, head to foot, these unsuspecting ladies baubles. Angie felt her heart rate quicken with delight at what she saw.. Now, older women could be a little bit trickier since they were more likely to notice quicker the disappearance of often worn jewelry, as opposed to younger ladies or girls were not yet used to wearing fine jewelry adorning their squirming figures. Nevertheless, Angie spied something that should even the playing field a bit, so to speak, making this wealthy lady a fairly less risky prospect…
Now, Monescu‘s pamphlet had a little side Chapter on how ladies would sooner think jewels were lost as to believe they had been stolen from them (pickpockets only go after wallets and hankies, my dear, everyone knows that!) . To this end, losing one of a pair, like an earring, or clips, is a safe bet, especially if one desires to tempt fate and remain in the area to try for a second piece, like the brooch one of her friends was wearing.
And the lady Angie was ogling was wearing a pair of twin diamond and ruby clips, one on each side of the wide shiny sash that encircled her waist. Taking one of her jeweled clips should be as easy as slipping candy away from the side of a silken clad baby. Which in a fashion, Angie had actually done, once long ago, coming across a small group of wedding attired young girls playing alone at a playground, whose chaperones had obligingly wandered off for a bit. But, when Angie had left the chirpy little group to continue their game of (appropriately enough) cops n robbers, It had definitely not been the gullible young ladies candy that walked off along with her!
(See album, Angie at play, for the full story)
Angie’s full attention was now focused on the two wave shaped clips as the pair fired glittering salvos of flickering rainbow-like colures with each elegant movement their mistress made. Patiently Angie stalked from a distance, awaiting her chance. It came soon enough, when the Hors d’oeuvres were put out, and the clips, along with their mistress, headed with the other multitudes of guests to the long banquet tables. As they formed a line, Angie managed to wedge herself in between the lines, effectively cutting off her victim, who bumped against Angie.
Angie’s left hand slipped in and snaked along the satin sash, feeling once again the deliciously tingling ling chill she always experienced when her fingers first rubbed against the warm scintillating material of a luscious gown as she dipped in to steal the selected jewel.. This time was no different as her slender fingers located the first of the clips ; lifting it up, and nimbly flicked open the clasp( it was amazing how jewelers skimped on clasps when making upper end jewels), at the same time her right hand slithered up the slick taffeta backside of her victims gown. Reaching underneath an armpit, her fingernails dug in, distracting her victim as to the nefarious activity happening at her waist. The lady was knocked slightly off balance, and anyone else who saw the pair had their eyes focused their faces, and not on any handiwork occurring with the hands below sight.
Angie apologized profusely in her softest most innocent voice. Petting down the ladies backside as she did so with her right hand, while her left plucked the clip from her sash and palmed the jewel and slipped behind her back. It was over in seconds, merely someone trying to cut the line, and Angie made her escaped receiving a few clucks of the tongue from one of the ladies’ friend as the lady caught up to them. Angie just smiled at them winningly, her hand still behind her back. As she smiled, Angie slipped the diamond clip down inside her sash before turning away and heading off.
It had all come off quite easily, and Angie was congratulating herself, when suddenly a voice behind her pronounced, quite loud and clear, oh my gwad Ceclia, you’ve lost a brooch. Diamond clip Angie correctly the lady silently to herself. She did not turn, but kept on moving, even slowing her pace a bit. From the same area she heard Celica gasp. Me clip, I’ve lost one of me diamond clips! it was here a minute ago, remember Maud, you was admiring them, weren’t you? Angie could imagine from what actions the lady in the elegant taffeta gown was taking now that she had discovered her loss, security was probably hoofing their way over, Angie had to think quickly.
Not losing any of her demeanor, Angie turned causally around to watch with the rest of the nearby group as the lady was showing her sash and the remaining clip to a couple of her friends. Angie spied a brace uniformed bulls approaching. She casually turned and headed across the room, her mind whirling. she knew that the pricy clip was too hot to hold onto. She had slowly looked around as she sauntered away from the scene. Then, spotting one of the many Ladies powder rooms scattered around, she ducked into it. Angie knew from past experiences ( and a few hints from Monescu‘s phamplett) that rooms such as these had a plethora of hiding places to let “hot items” cool down..
She entered the room, the noise dying out as the door closed. She was alone, wait, not nearly, the room had one other occupant. Ginny was at the sink, washing her face, the bored look she had worn all evening now was replaced by deep thoughts, forlorn ones by the looks of it. On the fly Angie coolly devised a plan.
She walked up behind the unwary, unnoticing, fetchingly clad Ginny, and wrapped her arms round her, hugging, as she called out, Maude dear, I haven’t seen you in ages. Ginny was uncomfortably flabbergasted, and Angie felt her warm figure stiffen. She turned and Angie apologized, I am so sorry , I totally mistook you for someone else. I should have known better, Maude is not nearly as pretty .As she spoke, Angies’ fingers touched and prodded the startled girl, not allowing her to collect her wits. If Angie was hoping for a smile, she didn’t get it,. Streetwise Ginny looked at Angie hard, and scolded the thief for scaring the beezusses out of her. In a Huff Ginny left, Angie watched as Ginny’s soft gown curled around the closing door before whipping out of.
She was smiling to herself, for as she had hugged Ginny, she had deposited the clip in the girls green velvet purse that was laying open on the vanity. She had also in the process, tit for tat, whisked off the emeralds from around the flustered Ginny’s satin gloved wrist.
Not wasting any time Angie headed down the hallway where she secreted the bracelet in a nearby ash can, slipping it underneath the ½ ash filled bowl. Angie than reentered the ballroom, and went up to the orchestra’s conductor and requested a couple of waltzes, ones she knew were lengthy.
She then look around to make sure that she had all the principle players in her plot in sight. She spied Ginny talking with her cousin Olivia, and Celia was still searching the floor by the banquet tables. Now Maude , Maude took a little doing, but Angie spotted her chatting with a security cop. Great Angie thought, all I need to do is wait for it. “It” soon became apparent , was the start of one of the slow waltzes, and sure enough, Olivia was almost immediately scooped up and led off to the dance floor, leaving poor Ginny alone, as she had been most of the evening. Her hard disposition more than enough to keep any potential suitors at bay.
Angie immediately sought out Maude, a short mousey woman in a faded velvet gown wearing loads of gold chains and bangles. Angie caught her ear; feeding her a story about what she saw being placed in a certain green velvet purse. Maude’s eyes darted to where Ginny stood along a wall, and Angie saw a delicious gleam flare up in mousey Maude’s semi -be speckled green eyes.
**
Angie than serenely slipped back, regaining her barstool perch and waited as the developments unfolded. Maude went to the copper she had been chatting up, and they both went to Celica. The copped grabbed a partner and the group surrounded poor Ginny. Angie kept one eye on the, and the other on Olivia, who was dancing on the far side of the room, blissfully unaware of the clamor on the far wall, that was surrounding her hapless cousin Ginny.
Angie saw that, upon discovering what she had in her purse, they were going to arrest her and escort Ginny off the premises, exactly as Angie had planned! Angie slipped from her stool, and headed out to the lobby to await the final act in Ginny’s tragedy. Angie concealed herself in the hidden alcove, behind the small ash can where she had stashed the emerald bracelet. Just in time to witness the poor girl, struggling between the two security types, and being forcibly escorting her out. When she was sure no suspicion was coming her way, Angie lit a victory smoke, and retrieved the emeralds, stowing them away as she looked back upon the protesting Ginny, struggling as she was being ushered out the door to the waiting patrol car on the street below.
**
Now, Angie only had to find where that darling young Olivia, so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too! With a suspect now in custody, and two less security bulls, Angie was free to slip back in amongst the wealthy guests in attendance at the ball. Good thing old Angie girl was a tough cookie, she contemplated, congratulating herself over not losing her head and coming out in roses, as happy with herself, she watched down the hallway. She was in no hurry; haste makes waste after all, so Angie savored her thoughts as she waited patiently to continue her mischievous habits.
Her thoughts now were trained fully on the unsuspecting, capriciously flighty , Olivia, and her dazzling diamonds.
In her minds eye she relished over several scenarios that could develop, and how to use them to her advantage, Angie exciting herself so much that she held the cigarette for a minute to lick her lips over them…
She imagined Olivia darting about, as she looked for her missing cousin, imagining, a well-placed foot on the hemline of a swirling long purple silk gown, which could yield some marvelous results.
Or perhaps Olivia could use some help looking for her cousin. Angie would then be able to discreetly help herself to some of the enticingly slippery-gowned Olivia’s dainty, but expensively fiery, diamond jewelry.
Alternatively, and best of all, and it is here where the almost purring Angie licked her lips, was a most scintillating scenario…
Angie could explain what had happened and offer to share a cab downtown with her new friend. Angie would comfort the worrying, sobbing (brought on by how Angie would describe what had happened) girl riding alongside her in the back of the bouncing cab. Angie would comfortingly stroke the warm figure encased in the richly slick, scrumptiously smooth silky gown, as she cooed words of encouragement in Olivia’s ears, Angie’s lips touching the diamond earrings dripping down from their lobes.
Then she would let Olivia go inside alone, as not to cause her cousin any further embarrassment. Then Angie would watch as Olivia hurried away, admiring the flow of her shiny gown in the light from the entranceways lamps ,and while also basking in the provocative sparkle of any remaining diamonds that Angie had not managed to spirit away during the ride down to the police station.
Angie shivered happily, as she gave one final drag on her cigarette and bent down to place it in the ash bin.
Suddenly Angie’s senses perked up, and she raised her head, shooting her gaze down the long corridor..
A lady was leaving the ballroom, unescorted, heading down the long hallway to the exit. She could tell by the quality of the long slinky gown that fell in ruffles from the hem of the long black mink she wore, and by the rings glittering from the hand that held the thick mink, that this specimen was well worth some effort. Angie rose, not yet noticed by the fur encased broad. One for the road, Angie thought to herself, bemused. The lady kept looking back, like she did not really want to leave and was afraid she would miss something exciting. That fact, along with the narrowness of the passage made for an excellent opportunity… A well place foot, and expertly placed bump, a few seconds of confusion, and the lady and Angie would part company, and Angie would have parted something else from the broad, and be a richer woman for it.
It was a formula that Angie had perfected and executed many profitable times. As a matter of fact, it had only been a few days prior that a young daughter, quite fetchingly (and targetable) in a pretty lavender satin and lace gown, ornamented regally with pearls and a flashy blue rhinestone tiara, had quite literally, but not accidentally, come under foot. Allowing Angie the opportunity to artfully nick the girl’s fine strand of gleaming white pearls (with a sapphire gemmed drop!) that had obligingly bounced up into Angie’s waiting fingers.
Angie now watched this rich lady headed towards her, with the very same thoughts in mind. But she needed to know what jewels the broad had hidden under that pricey mink. As the lady came close Angie tried to “will” her to open up. “C’mon honey, its warm, you must be burning up in that pelt, show mama what you got.” But the broad did not obligingly peel back the mink for Angie, and Angie would never know what riches may have been in the cupboard, or perhaps it had been bare, though Angie seriously doubted it. The lady reached her, shooting Angie a nervous smile. Angie smiled back, wondering if the lad realized how close she had come to being relieved of one of her fancy trinkets.
As the woman passed by, Angie watched her backside, musing to herself, Fine, I’ll just have to settle for Olivia. Angie then started down the long deserted corridor with a brisk walk, her satin dress bouncing in rhythm.
**
Reaching the Ballroom proper, Angie stopped and gave the room a vigilant scan for security, and as she had figured, it definitely had loosened up. She then searched in earnest for the young miss clad in her expensive purple silk “tickling gown”( see addendum rr). The naïve young thing had been ever so carelessly displaying those delectably exquisite diamonds of hers with such reckless abandon that it would be a wonder if she still possessed all of them. It will be a wonder if she still does after meeting me, Angie mused. She almost was purring in anticipation as she thought about those diamonds, especially the long necklace and the way it had flung from side to side as the girl had walked past Angie the first time that evening(and several more since). Angie envisioned the diamonded box clasp at the back of her bare neck (long hair was high in a bun) that held the necklace around her neck, for now! She hoped that Olivia had not removed her shiny hairpiece to let her long hair down, Angie prayed, it would make things so much the easier.
As Angie thought about this she slowly edged her way along the wall, dodging in and out amongst the happily chatting guest, constantly on the lookout for Olivia.
Angie was suddenly, unexpectedly blindsided from behind as something incredibly soft, slickly bumped up against her back. Like a cat, she kept her feet and whirled around in time to catch a handful of pure heaven in the form of one of the be- gowned young “princesses” that seemed to be everywhere this gay evening. She found herself nose to eye with a young miss, resplendent in a long slippery gown as black as ink, and as soft as young chinchilla. The sleek gown literally poured tightly down along her perked figure to the floor, covering over her shiny black high heels. The colour of night that was her gown was broken only by the whiteness of her bare shoulders and neck, and by an exquisitely large, leaf like brooch of clear diamond banquets that covered her right side at least 8 inches above and below her slender waistline.
The young “princess” giggled nervously as she profusely apologized over her “silliness” at tripping over her own gown as she had stepped backwards. Angie oozed kindness as she spoke soothingly to the girl, watching her melt like putty in Angie’s light fingered hands. As Angie spoke calmingly to the girl, her eyes were indiscreetly soaking up the dazzling white diamond necklace that surrounded the nervous girl’s bare white throat that was now eye level to Angie. .Angie looked down at the girls gloved hand resting upon her full bosom , admiring the softness of the satin gloves (dyed to match her gown) that stretched up past her elbows, drooling secretly over the enormous cocktail ring that graced one of her fingers. The princess raised up her hands, giving them to Angie, who took up the satin clad hands, holding them as tightly as she was holding the girls gaze, before letting the girl slowly slip them from her firm grasp., .
The girls eyes finally broke away, and Angie smiled exuberantly, giving the girl an enveloping hug to show there were no hard feelings, letting her hands slip ever so gingerly down to grasp the girl by the waist, giving her a squeeze. She then let the young thing slip out, free to go on her way, as Angie turned and did likewise. As Angie sauntered off, she happily thought that it was sometimes funny how occasionally, when least expected, one gets very lucky. As she thought this, she moved her clenched fist to the top of her dress. Pulling the dress out, she dropped down her cleavage the rather large, expensively glittering , diamond brooch she had so carefully slipped from the rather ditsy young ”princess” black satin clad waist. The damsel had not so much felt a prick when Angie had lifted the jewel, snapped the clasp open, and slipped it from her figure as her hands had squeezed her scintillatingly soft waist. She now felt it wonderfully slip down, joining Ginny’s purloined bracelet already resting securely there. Angie stole a careful look back over her shoulder.
The clueless young” Princess” was now happily dancing away with a tuxedoed young man. Her handsome partner, with a neatly trimmed beard, had one white gloved hand holding up her hand in black satin, the enormous cocktail ring shining out like some richly coloured beacon ; the other white gloved hand lay upon her back, mere inches away from the simple hook in eye clasp of the necklace of white diamonds. Angie drooled, how she would have liked to have had her hands in either of the positions that the man’s were now laid. Taking the ring and necklace would have been a piece of cake. Angie did sometimes secretly envy men, who could get close to jewel-laden ladies in ways that Angie could not! Angie imagined these wicked thoughts to herself as she allowed herself to be mesmerized by the blaze of fiery diamonds that for the time being, were still wrapped around the “princess’s” slender white throat.
Angie was not worried about the young lady raising a squawk over a missing brooch. Clumsy Dames like her were used to having jewelry misplaced. Angie wondered if they ever realized how many times those jewels were not misplaced, but stolen by light fingered thieves who, like Angie, knew all too well how to read the signs and reap the rewards. If only she had had time to be better prepared, she sighed, turning her attention reluctantly away from the diamonds.
Angie moved off, filled with the confidence that the tides of her fortune had turned for the better. Rounding a corner Angie spied Celia off to one side, and toyed with the idea of slipping off her remaining diamond clip now that Maud was still chatting up one of the Guards (another one out of commission!) Then, for a split second, on the other side of the room, she saw the silky wisp of purple that singled out her prey. Now, down to business she said, licking her lips. With a cat like gleam in her eyes, she swiftly stole into the crowd of dancing couples. Soon she was lost to sight, swept up in a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns.
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Addendum rr (excerpted from :Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip by “Gaston Monescu, 1826”)
A perfect tickle thief setup, as Angie renamed it, was a ploy for use on a lady “waering a long gown or skirtes” that was easily trip able, when a foot stepped on it from behind, sometimes added with a soft nudge, sending the wearer tumbling. Ones fingers, in the process of steading or helping would glide(tickling) over the material ( the sleeker the better) to reach and pluck free the fair ladies’ targeted bauble.
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Interested in reading more about the shenanigans of Angie?
Then Check out the following albums:
Angie Picks Chicago
Angie being Receptive
Angie being chartable
Angie at Play
Angie Trick Or Treat( coming soon)
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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
DISCLAIMER
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
********************************************************************************
Jesus at Somnath Lane
He watches your silhouette and pain
Your life's burden to your sins enchained
He hears your pleas your curses complaints.. Head bowed you entreated
Several Saints.. But your problems remain
Unsolved driving you crazy and insane
He understands he is all forgiving humane
Have faith have patience his refrain..
When the time comes he will help you
Break those rusty corroded chains
-3.156E16 s = 1 bya
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K.M. Cohen & al. 2021: ICC v2021.10.
J. Spitzer 2021: How molecular forces & planets create life.
M.J. Benton 2020: History of life.
Q. Zhu & al. 2018: Primordial black holes as DM.
P. van Dokkum & al. 2018: A galaxy lacking DM.
S. Gadkari & al. 2018: Towards automated BECS design.
R. Nakamura & S. Kawaichi 2018: A/C EET by A. maritima 110S.
T. Wenzel & al. 2017: PTLEs enhance CG from PSBFs.
K. Micadei & al. 2017: Reversing thermodynamic arrow of time.
A. Kulkarnia & C.G. Extavour 2017: Convergent evolution of GGN.
A.J. Westphal & al. 2017: The future of stardust science.
G. Maslennikov & al. 2017: QA refrigerator with trapped ions.
J. Humphries & al. 2017: Sp-i attraction to biofilms through ES.
A. Hofmann & al. 2016: Heat dissipation & fluctuations in a DQD.
E.P. Verlinde 2016: Emergent Gravity and the Dark Universe.
Y. Guryanova & al. 2016: QS thermodynamics.
G. Witzany 2016: The biocommunication method.
N.Y. Halpern & al. 2015: mC+RT derivations of QSTS with NCC.
E.A. Bell & al. 2015: BGC preserved in a 4,100 myo zircon.
R. Uzdin & al. 2015: Equivalence of QHM and QTS.
A. Prindle & al. 2015: Electrical communication in Bacteria.
S. Hedge & al. 2015: Surface biosignatures of exo-Earths.
G. Witzany 2015: From chemical reactions to code using agents.
A.R. Rowe & al. 2015: Marine sediment microbes capable of EO.
W.C. Ratcliff & al. 2015: Saccharomyces cerevisiæ origins.
N. Lehman & al. 2014: Evolution of interpretive behavior.
M. Levin 2014: Molecular bioelectricity.
M.E. Tegmark 2014: Our mathematical universe.
B. Larson & al. 2012: The chemical origin of behavior.
A. Sirota-Madi & al. 2010: Genome of Pænibacillus vortex.
E. Ripamonti & al. 2010: First star formation with DM annihilation.
F. Gould 2007: Why is yawning contagious?
Y.A. Gorby & al. 2006: ECBNW by Shewanella oneidensis MR1.
A.V. Emeline & al. 2003: Abiogenesis and photostimulated heterogeneous reactions in the interstellar medium and on primitive earth: Relevance to the genesis of life.
A.M. Turing 1952: The chemical basis of morphogenesis.
NLHTL · g-clock · H₂O · H₂O cluster · abiogenesis · FUCA · GOE · EoCD · ET liquid H₂O · biochemistry hp types · chemistry/physics unsolved problems · BG · EPT · HU · life evolutionary history · SI · PCD · MG · MB · QS · MI · GC · EDEN · BDM · PLR · astrobiology
Autumn of 1845 at Lord Southampton’s country manor : Quorndon Hall, Leicestershire:
A young girl who was staying there with her titled parents observed a magician performing in the towns green. Insisting that he come and do his tricks at the manor, Lord Southampton obeyed the girls request and arranged for him to perform at the estate to entertain the children visiting while their parents were attending the annual Autumn Ball that weekend.
When he arrived the young handsome lad endeared himself to the older sister of the girl who had insisted upon his appearance. After his show he joined her and her circle of friends for the evening. He won them all over, flirting from one gowned lady to another. But he soon managed to disappear from the gathering.
Later that evening it was discovered that the Daughter was missing her expensive brooch. Than almost simultaneously a friend of hers missed her valuable necklace of pearl strings, Than yet a third friend discovered her diamond earrings vanished, without so much as a prickling. This one remembered that the magician had lifted long flowing her hair up and let it down her back while complimenting her on the sparkle of her cascading earrings held by a simple clasp to her ears. Two other young woman also discovered some of their diamonds were missing also.
A search was made for the magician, but he had simply melted away, to where no one ever found out and it remained a mystery.
However any suspicions about the young nimble fingered magician being the thief were confirmed late the next morning.
After brunch several of the mothers had gone to their children’s rooms to collect the jewels that they had adorned their offspring with before sending them down to be entertained by the magician the previous evening. There had been about a dozen young females sent to the gathering not only wearing fancy dresses but also pearls, diamonds and other small pieces of gemstone jewellery, necklaces, earrings, rings and bracelets, even a small diamond tiara that the young daughter, who asked for the magician’s attendance, had insisted upon wearing with her satin gown.
When they discovered that some of the jewelry had been unaccounted for ( the most expensive ones) they question their Nannies. It was discovered that the children had been left unsupervised while the Magician had entertained them. And as he had done so, performing his sleight of hand tricks, he had primarily picked certain young ladies from the audience to help him, including the daughter.
Not surprisingly it was these same young ladies whom their nannies had discovered were missing jewelry as they collected them and helped them undress for bed after the show. They did not want to bother the parents at the party, so no mention was made until the next morning when the Mothers had asked for them.
The magician got away with the jewels leaving his victims helpless in his wake.
*************************************************************************************
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
DISCLAIMER
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
********************************************************************************
Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
*********************************************************************************
This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
.************************************************************************************
Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.
And if you wish, describe what intrigued you the most about it…
Thank You
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Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
*********************************************************************************
This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
.************************************************************************************
Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.
And if you wish, describe what intrigued you the most about it…
Thank You
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Digital Oil Painting - Virtual Painter 5 -
Dennis Farina (February 29, 1944 – July 22, 2013) was an American actor of film and television and former Chicago police officer. He was a character actor, often typecast as a mobster or police officer. His most known film roles are those of mobster Jimmy Serrano in the comedy Midnight Run and Ray "Bones" Barboni in Get Shorty. He starred on television as Detective Joe Fontana on Law & Order. He also hosted and narrated a revived version of Unsolved Mysteries. His last major TV role was in HBO's Luck, which premiered on January 29, 2012.
WEEK 5 – Batesville Kroger, Set I
PlazaACME figured out we were going to a Kroger this weekend and I had a really good guess from Midwest Retail as to which location, but ultimately, this week’s destination riddle remained unsolved. That’s okay, though – you all will have plenty of time to familiarize yourselves with this store over the course of this album! For this photoseries we find ourselves at the (rather unique, in several ways) Batesville, Mississippi, Kroger.
Kroger // 110 Keating Road, Batesville, MS 38606
(c) 2019 Retail Retell
These places are public so these photos are too, but just as I tell where they came from, I'd appreciate if you'd say who :)
I have shared this Ojibway tale before but I think this image goes better with it. Someday I will get the right image to better compliment this beautiful story. Please share.
THE STAR AND THE LILY
An old chieftain sat in his wigwam quietly smoking his favorite pipe, when a crowd of Indian boys and girls suddenly entered, and with numerous offerings of tobacco, begged him to tell them a story. Then the old man began:
“There was once a time when this world was filled with happy people, when all nations were as one, and the crimson tide of war had not begun to roll. Plenty of game was in the forest and on the plains. None were in want, for a full supply was at hand. Sickness was unknown. The beasts of the field were tame, they came and went at the bidding of man. One unending spring gave no place for winter for its cold blasts or its unhealthy chills. Every tree and bush yielded fruit
Flowers carpeted the earth; the air was laden with their fragrance, and redolent with the songs of married warblers, that flew from branch to branch, fearing none, for there were none to harm them. There were birds then of more beautiful song and plumage than now. It was at such a time, when earth was a paradise and man worthily its possessor, that the Indians were the one inhabitants of the American wilderness.
They numbered millions, and living as Nature designed them to live, enjoyed its many blessings. Instead of amusements in close rooms, the sports of the fields were theirs. At night they met on the wide green fields. They watched the stars; they loved to gaze at them, for they believed them to be the residences of the good who had been taken home by the Great Spirit.
One night they saw one star that shone brighter than all others. Its location was far away in the South near a mountain peak. For many nights it was seen, till at length it was doubted by many that the star was as far distant in the Southern skies as it seemed to be. This doubt led to an examination, which proved the star to be only a short distance, and near the tops of some trees.
A number of warriors were deputed to go and seewhat it was. They went and on their return said it appeared strange and somewhat like a bird. A committee of the wise men were called to inquire into, and if possible ascertain the meaning of the strange phenomena.
They feared that it might be the omen of some disaster. Some thought it precursor of good, others of evil, and some supposed it to be the star spoken of by their forefathers, as the forerunner of a dreadful war.
One moon had nearly gone by, and yet the mystery remained unsolved.
One night a young warrior had a dream, in which a beautiful maiden came and stood at his side, and thus addressed him:
‘Young brave! charmed with the land of thy forefathers, its flowers, its birds, its rivers, its beautiful lakes, and its mountains clothed with green, I have left my sisters in yonder world to dwell among you. Young brave! ask your wise and your great men where I can live and see the happy face continually; ask them what form I shall assume in order to beloved.’
Thus discoursed the bright stranger. The young man awoke. On stepping out of his lodge he saw the star yet blazing in its accustomed place.
At early dawn the Chief’s crier was sent round the camp to call every warrior to the Council Lodge. When they had met, the young warrior related his dream. They concluded that the star that had been seen in the South had fallen in love with mankind, and that it was desirous to dwell with them.
The next night five tall, noble-looking, adventurous braves were sent to welcome the stranger to earth.-,, They went and presented to it a pipe of peace, filled with sweet scented herbs, and were rejoiced to find that it took it from them. As they returned to the village, the star with expanded wing followed, and hovered over their homes till the dawn of day.
Again it came to the young man in a dream, and desired to know where it should live, and what form it should take.
Places were named. On the top of giant trees, or in flowers. At length it was told to choose a place itself, and it did so.
At first, it dwelt in the white rose of the mountain, but there it was so buried that it could not be seen. It went to the prairie, but it feared the hoof of the buffalo. It next sought the rocky cliff, but there it was so high, that the children whom it loved most could not see it.
“I know where I shall live,” said the bright fugitive, “Where I can see the gliding canoe of the race I most admire. Children! Yes, they shall be my playmates, and I will kiss their brows when they slumber by the side of cool lakes. The nations shall love me wherever I am.”
These words having been said, she alighted on the waters where she saw herself reflected. The next morning, thousands of white flowers were seen on the surface of the lakes, and the Indians gave them this name – “Wah-be-gwon-nee” (White Lily.) Now, continued the old man, “this star lived in, the Southernskies. Its brethren can be seen far off in the cold North, hunting the great bear, whilst its sisters watch her in the East and West.
“Children! When you see the lily on the waters, take it in your hands, and hold it to the skies, that it may be happy on earth as its two sisters, the morning and evening stars, are happy in heaven.”
While tears fell fast from the eyes of all, the old man, laid down and was soon silent in sleep.
Since that, I have often plucked the white lily, and garlanded it around my head-have dipped it in its watery bed, but never have I seen it without remembering the legend of the descending star.
The Traditional History and Characteristic Sketches of the Ojibway Nation
By G. Copway
Oh, Kah-Ge-Ga-Ga-Bown, Chief of the Ojibway Nation
www.kouroo.info/kouroo/transclusions/18/50/1850_CopwaysOj...
Photo-Realistic HDR.
A field of barley taken in rural California.
I was tired and I just wanted to drive to the country side, find a spot and fiddle with my camera; no serious shooting. Experiment with different focal points, aperture and shutter speed to achieve a sharper, sharper, more sharper shot…I found myself by this barley field and the busted barn. In slow, painfully lethargic movements, I set the camera on a monopod, opening the door slightly enough to put my foot on the ground, my butt glued to the seat; I had no intention standing up. Switched to Manual, I began firing…
I remember when I was in the first grade the teacher was pointing to a graphical chart divided to a four cartoonish images. On the top, it said “Seasons”. March had blooming trees, melting snow-capped mountains, and a look of an almost spring. The image next to it said, April which had world bursting with fresh wholesome air and trees brimmed with lush, leafy branches; kids with dogs frolicking amid wildflowers in dazzling profusion. Blossoming from every twig, pushing valiantly through the fertile litter on the meadows, were trilliums and trailing arbutus, golden and white daisies; May had families on a picnic surrounded by fruit bearing trees, Dutchmen’s breeches, jack-in-the –pulpit, mandrake, violets, dwarf iris…a sight to lift the hardest heart. There was a real spring. Three wholesome worldly months of spring. March, April and May. That was ONE season.
Summer was June, July and August: just like in this image, it was warm color and harvest.
I stopped and gazed at the solitary barn; the can-be harvested-any-minute-now barley field...it's like, "Look at me, I'll be gone soon! You'll miss me...the barn, too, cause won't be the same without me'. And here it is...one of the hundreds of experimental shots...appealing to large crowd (You really should try that. Believe me, you'll experiece and discover things about photography that you would not have by moving around and shooting at random).
Is it the sense of aloneness we crave for? The solitude? Just like when were kids and carefree, getting away from our parents, school, friends and all...away to the wilderness. Anywhere but near the usual suspects. Daydreaming as we Walk along a stream; feeling on top of the world when looking down a mountain top...a hill-top. We jump into ponds, rivers without the fear of catching a bacteria...Girls don't have such a freedom. Pity...
I think most us did it when kids. I used to do it alot...almost everyday, Each afternoon, after stultifying lessons and daily school banality, I would sit in this shady nook, feeling the wind and gazing across the verdant meadows, all the while, one corner of my mind remained open to the external world. I listened, intently, to the composing, harsh calls of rook birds carried merrily above, and from above the roof on my perch on the edge as I gazed far, I could see the little clearing in the woods where local kids kicked ball.
It was for me an enrapturing place, quite on top of the world, it’s levitation and freedom promising a kind of timelessness. And so, I thought, what were the circumstances that formed such order and beauty? Why is there a universe at all? What was the mystery, the innate force behind them? How could such a mystery go so long unsolved by prophets like Jesus, Mosses and Muhammad? What was wrong with philosophers and mathematicians like Newton, Einstein, Descartes, Darwin, Hume and Aristotle; what was wrong with the psychics and clairvoyants?
There was a time, in my this perfect resting place, beneath the shadow of the eucalyptus tree, when I thought about Einstein's general relativity that we had learned at school. That space-time began at the big bang singularity and would come to an end, say, billions billions years later. But did the universe in fact have a beginning or an end? Was there only nothingness after death? Was there really a God? A creator? If there was, where was He, how did He look like? Why He did not intervene in the universe? Why did He allow my dog, Creone, to be ran over by a truck? Why it had to be my dog when there was hundreds of thousands of dogs on this planet? Why did God do things? Why did God take the life of a child? There was another thing I wanted to understand. What was the role of God in the affairs of the universe?
I thought: if God was responsible for every remarkable contrivance of the living world and the adapted complexity of all existing organisms, then what (or who) was responsible for the origin of God? Once I remembered my mother had said that, God has no origin. He always existed and will continue to exist for all eternity. He allowed the universe to evolve and did not intervene in the universe. He sees and hears everyone of us. At this exact moment, he is seeing us as if we were in His vision. And he can hear an ant ailing in a stormy weather. God is a creator who sustains everything in existence.
Yet still, he did not intervene. It made no sense to me, whatsoever. Why, I thought, paint a picture, lending it the greatest life that it could possibly posses, yet not look at it! Was it not rather unreasonable?
I thought these things as I sat there. I concentrated mainly on the questions (I was into the habit of always asking questions. For I thought a lot, worried too much, and questioned everything and believed nothing) of understanding the world, of what was happening around of me. He that nothing questions, nothing learns, was my motto.
This was when I felt good about the world and began to make psychological sense of myself, or more accurately, of myself and the world together. Shortly, I had increased an obsessive concern with nature as well with the mystical secrets of human consciousness. I studied the structure and proportion of trees, flowers and the intricate patterns. I had the sense that my life will be full and exiting—not a road wound-up hills all the way.
And so thinking I would fall a sleep and the questions and the characters and saints and thinkers and my dreams would blend.
Posted 6 minutes ago. ( permalink | delete | edit )
Narasimha (Sanskrit: नरसिंह IAST: Narasiṁha, lit. man-lion), Narasingh, Narsingh and Narasingha in derivative languages is an avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu and one of Hinduism's most popular deities, as evidenced in early epics, iconography, and temple and festival worship for over a millennium.
Narasiṁha is often visualised as having a human-like torso and lower body, with a lion-like face and claws. This image is widely worshipped in deity form by a significant number of Vaiṣṇava groups. Vishnu assumed this form on top of Himvat mountain(Harivamsa). He is known primarily as the 'Great Protector' who specifically defends and protects his devotees in times of need. Vishnu is believed to have taken the avatar to destroy the demon king Hiranyakashipu.
ETYMOLOGY
The word Narasimha means 'lion-man' which usually means 'half man and half lion'. His other names are:
- Agnilochana (अग्निलोचन) - the one who has fiery eyes
- Bhairavadambara (भैरवडम्बर) - the one who causes terror by roaring
- Karala (कराल) - the one who has a wide mouth and projecting teeth
- Hiranyakashipudvamsa (हिरण्यकशिपुध्वंस) - the one who killed Hiranyakashipu
- Nakhastra (नखास्त्र) - the one for whom nails are his weapons
- Sinhavadana (सिंहवदन) - the whose face is of lion
- Mrigendra (मृगेन्द्र) - king of animals or lion
SCRIPTURAL SOURCES
There are references to Narasiṁha in a variety of Purāṇas, with 17 different versions of the main narrative. The Bhagavata Purāṇa (Canto 7), Agni Purāṇa (4.2-3), Brahmāṇḍa Purāṇa(2.5.3-29), Vayu Purāṇa (67.61-66), Harivaṁśa (41 & 3.41-47), Brahma-Purāṇa (213.44-79), Viṣṇudharmottara Purāṇa(1.54), Kūrma Purāṇa (1.15.18-72), Matsya Purāṇa(161-163), Padma Purāṇa(Uttara-khaṇḍa 5.42), Śiva Purāṇa (2.5.43 & 3.10-12), Liṅga Purāṇa (1.95-96), Skanda Purāṇa 7 (2.18.60-130) and Viṣṇu Purāṇa (1.16-20) all contain depictions of the Narasiṁha Avatāra. There is also a short reference in the Mahābhārata (3.272.56-60) and a Gopāla Tapani Upaniṣad (Narasiṁha tapani Upaniṣad), earliest of Vaiṣṇava Upaniṣads named in reference to him.
REFERENCES FROM VEDAS
The Ṛg Veda contains an epithet that has been attributed to Narasiṁha. The half-man, half-lion avatāra is described as:
- like some wild beast, dread, prowling, mountain-roaming.
Source: (RV.I 154.2a).
There is an allusion to a Namuci story in RV.VIII 14.13:
- With waters' foam you tore off, Indra, the head of Namuci, subduing all contending hosts.
This short reference is believed to have culminated in the full puranic story of Narasiṁha.
LORD NARASIMHA AND PRAHLADA
Bhagavata Purāṇa describes that in his previous avatar as Varāha, Viṣṇu killed the asura Hiraṇayakṣa. The younger brother of Hirṇayakṣa, Hiraṇyakaśipu wanted revenge on Viṣṇu and his followers. He undertook many years of austere penance to take revenge on Viṣṇu: Brahma thus offers the demon a boon and Hiraṇyakaśipu asks for immortality. Brahma tells him this is not possible, but that he could bind the death of Hiraṇyakaśipu with conditions. Hiraṇyakaśipu agreed:
- O my lord, O best of the givers of benediction, if you will kindly grant me the benediction I desire, please let me not meet death from any of the living entities created by you.
- Grant me that I not die within any residence or outside any residence, during the daytime or at night, nor on the ground or in the sky. Grant me that my death not be brought about by any weapon, nor by any human being or animal.
- Grant me that I not meet death from any entity, living or nonliving created by you. Grant me, further, that I not be killed by any demigod or demon or by any great snake from the lower planets. Since no one can kill you in the battlefield, you have no competitor. Therefore, grant me the benediction that I too may have no rival. Give me sole lordship over all the living entities and presiding deities, and give me all the glories obtained by that position. Furthermore, give me all the mystic powers attained by long austerities and the practice of yoga, for these cannot be lost at any time.
Brahma said, Tathāstu (so be it) and vanished. Hiraṇyakaśipu was happy thinking that he had won over death.
One day while Hiraṇyakaśipu performed austerities at Mandarācala Mountain, his home was attacked by Indra and the other devatās. At this point the Devarṣi (divine sage) Nārada intervenes to protect Kayādu, whom he describes as sinless. Following this event, Nārada takes Kayādu into his care and while under the guidance of Nārada, her unborn child (Hiraṇyakaśipu's son) Prahālada, becomes affected by the transcendental instructions of the sage even at such a young stage of development. Thus, Prahlāda later begins to show symptoms of this earlier training by Nārada, gradually becoming recognised as a devoted follower of Viṣṇu, much to his father's disappointment.
Hiraṇyakaśipu furious at the devotion of his son to Viṣṇu, as the god had killed his brother. Finally, he decides to commit filicide. but each time he attempts to kill the boy, Prahlāda is protected by Viṣṇu's mystical power. When asked, Prahlāda refuses to acknowledge his father as the supreme lord of the universe and claims that Viṣṇu is all-pervading and omnipresent.
Hiraṇyakaśipu points to a nearby pillar and asks if 'his Viṣṇu' is in it and says to his son Prahlāda:
O most unfortunate Prahlāda, you have always described a supreme being other than me, a supreme being who is above everything, who is the controller of everyone, and who is all-pervading. But where is He? If He is everywhere, then why is He not present before me in this pillar?
Prahlāda then answers,
He was, He is and He will be.
In an alternate version of the story, Prahlāda answers,
He is in pillars, and he is in the smallest twig.
Hiraṇyakaśipu, unable to control his anger, smashes the pillar with his mace, and following a tumultuous sound, Viṣṇu in the form of Narasiṁha appears from it and moves to attack Hiraṇyakaśipu. in defence of Prahlāda. In order to kill Hiraṇyakaśipu and not upset the boon given by Brahma, the form of Narasiṁha is chosen. Hiraṇyakaśipu can not be killed by human, deva or animal. Narasiṁha is neither one of these as he is a form of Viṣṇu incarnate as a part-human, part-animal. He comes upon Hiraṇyakaśipu at twilight (when it is neither day nor night) on the threshold of a courtyard (neither indoors nor out), and puts the demon on his thighs (neither earth nor space). Using his sharp fingernails (neither animate nor inanimate) as weapons, he disembowels and kills the demon.
Kūrma Purāṇa describes the preceding battle between the Puruṣa and demonic forces in which he escapes a powerful weapon called Paśupāta and it describes how Prahlāda's brothers headed by Anuhrāda and thousands of other demons were led to the valley of death (yamalayam) by the lion produced from the body of man-lion avatar. The same episode occurs in the Matsya Purāṇa 179, several chapters after its version of the Narasiṁha advent.
It is said that even after killing Hiraṇyakaśipu, none of the present demigods are able to calm Narasiṁha's wrath.So the demigods requested Prahlada to calm down the Lord,and Narasimha,who had assumed the all-powerful form of Gandaberunda returned to more benevolent form after that. In other stories,all the gods and goddesses call his consort, Lakṣmī, who assumes the form of Pratyangira and pacifies the Lord. According to a few scriptures, at the request of Brahma, Shiva took the form of Sharabha and successfully pacified him. Before parting, Narasiṁha rewards the wise Prahlāda by crowning him as the king.
NARASIMHA AND ADI SANKARA
Narasiṁha is also a protector of his devotees in times of danger. Near Śrī Śailaṁ, there is a forest called Hatakeśvanam, that no man enters. Śaṅkarācārya entered this place and did penance for many days. During this time, a Kāpālika, by name Kirakashan appeared before him.
He told Śrī Śaṅkara that he should give his body as a human-sacrifice to Kālī. Śaṅkara happily agreed. His disciples were shocked to hear this and pleaded with Śaṅkara to change his mind, but he refused to do so saying that it was an honor to give up his body as a sacrifice for Kālī and one must not lament such things. The Kāpālika arranged a fire for the sacrifice and Śaṅkara sat beside it. Just as he lifted his axe to severe the head of Śaṅkara, Viṣṇu as Narasiṁha entered the body of the disciple of Śaṅkarācārya and Narasiṁha devotee, Padmapada. He then fought the Kāpālika, slayed him and freed the forest of Kapalikas. Ādi Śaṅkara composed the powerful Lakṣmī-Narasiṁha Karāvalambaṁ Stotram at the very spot in front of Lord Narasiṁha.
MODE OF WORSHIP
Due to the nature of Narasiṁha's form (divine anger), it is essential that worship be given with a very high level of attention compared to other deities. In many temples only lifelong celibates (Brahmācārya) will be able to have the chance to serve as priests to perform the daily puja. Forms where Narasiṁha appears sitting in a yogic posture, or with the goddess Lakṣmī are the exception to this rule, as Narasiṁha is taken as being more relaxed in both of these instances compared to his form when first emerging from the pillar to protect Prahlāda.
PRAYERS
A number of prayers have been written in dedication to Narasiṁha avatāra. These include:
- The Narasiṁha Mahā-Mantra
- Narasiṁha Praṇāma Prayer
- Daśāvatāra Stotra by Jayadeva
- Kāmaśikha Aṣṭakam by Vedānta Deśika
- Divya Prabandham 2954
- Sri Lakshmi Narasimha Karavalamba Stotram by Sri Adi Sankara
THE NARASIMHA MAHA-MANTRA
- oṁ hrīṁ kṣauṁ
- ugraṁ viraṁ mahāviṣṇuṁ
- jvalantaṁ sarvatomukham ।
- nṛsiṁhaṁ bhīṣaṇaṁ bhadraṁ
- mṛtyormṛtyuṁ namāmyaham ॥
- O' Angry and brave Mahā-Viṣṇu, your heat and fire permeate everywhere. O Lord Narasiṁha, you are everywhere. You are the death of death and I surrender to You.
NARASIMHA PRANAMA PRAYER
- namaste narasiṁhāya,
- prahlādahlāda-dāyine,
- hiraṇyakaśipor vakṣaḥ,
- śilā-ṭaṅka nakhālaye
- I offer my obeisances to Lord Narasiṁha, who gives joy to Prahlāda Mahārāja and whose nails are like chisels on the stone like chest of the demon Hiraṇyakaśipu.
- ito nṛsiṁhaḥ parato nṛsiṁho,
- yato yato yāmi tato nṛsiṁhaḥ,
- bahir nṛsiṁho hṛdaye nṛsiṁho,
- nṛsiṁhaṁ ādiṁ śaraṇaṁ prapadye
- Lord Nṛsiṁha is here and also there. Wherever I go Lord Narasiṁha is there. He is in the heart and is outside as well. I surrender to Lord Narasiṁha, the origin of all things and the supreme refuge.
DASAVATARA STOTRA BY JAYADEVA
- tava kara-kamala-vare nakham adbhuta-śrṅgaṁ,
- dalita-hiraṇyakaśipu-tanu-bhṛṅgam,
- keśava dhṛta-narahari-rūpa jaya jagadiśa hare
- O Keśava! O Lord of the universe. O Hari, who have assumed the form of half-man, half-lion! All glories to You! Just as one can easily crush a wasp between one's fingernails, so in the same way the body of the wasp-like demon Hiraṇyakaśipu has been ripped apart by the wonderful pointed nails on your beautiful lotus hands. (from the Daśāvatāra-stotra composed by Jayadeva)
KAMASIKHA ASTAKAM BY VEDANTA DESIKA
- tvayi rakṣati rakṣakaiḥ kimanyaiḥ,
- tvayi cārakṣāti rakṣākaiḥ kimanyaiḥ ।
- iti niścita dhīḥ śrayāmi nityaṁ,
- nṛhare vegavatī taṭāśrayaṁ tvam ॥8॥
- O Kāmaśikhā Narasiṁha! you are sarva śakthan. When you are resolved to protect some one, where is the need to seek the protection of anyone else? When you are resolved not to protect some one, which other person is capable of protecting us?. There is no one. Knowing this fundamental truth, I have resolved to offer my śaraṇāgatī at your lotus feet alone that rest at the banks of Vegavatī river.
DIVYA PRABANDHAM 2954
- āḍi āḍi agam karaindhu isai
- pāḍip pāḍik kaṇṇīr malgi engum
- nāḍi nāḍi narasingā endru,
- vāḍi vāḍum ivvāl nuthale!
- I will dance and melt for you, within my heart, to see you, I will sing in praise of you with tears in joy, I will search for Narasiṁha and I am a householder who still searches to reach you (to attain Salvation).
SYMBOLISM
Narasiṁha indicates God's omnipresence and the lesson is that God is everywhere. For more information, see Vaishnav Theology.
Narasiṁha demonstrates God's willingness and ability to come to the aid of His devotees, no matter how difficult or impossible the circumstances may appear to be.
Prahlāda's devotion indicates that pure devotion is not one of birthright but of character. Prahlāda, although born an asura, demonstrated the greatest bhakti to God, and endured much, without losing faith.
Narasiṁha is known by the epithet Mṛga-Śarīra in Sanskrit which translates to Animal-Man. From a philosophical perspective. Narasiṁha is the very icon of Vaiṣṇavism, where jñāna (knowledge) and Bhakti are important as opposed to Advaita, which has no room for Bhakti, as the object to be worshipped and the worshipper do not exist. As according to Advaita or Māyāvāda, the jīva is Paramātma.
SIGNIFICANCE
In South Indian art – sculptures, bronzes and paintings – Viṣṇu's incarnation as Narasiṁha is one of the most chosen themes and amongst [[Avatar]|Avatāra]]s perhaps next only to Rāma and Kṛṣṇa in popularity.
Lord Narasiṁha also appears as one of Hanuman's 5 faces, who is a significant character in the Rāmāyaṇa as Lord (Rāma's) devotee.
FORMS OF NARASIMHA
There are several forms of Narasiṁha, but 9 main ones collectively known as Nava-narasiṁha:
- Ugra-narasiṁha
- Kroddha-narasiṁha
- Vīra-narasiṁha
- Vilamba-narasiṁha
- Kopa-narasiṁha
- Yoga-narasiṁha
- Aghora-narasiṁha
- Sudarśana-narasiṁha
- Lakṣmī-narasiṁha
In Ahobilam, Andhra Pradesh, the nine forms are as follows:
- Chātra-vata-narasiṁha (seated under a banyan tree)
- Yogānanda-narasiṁha (who blessed Lord Brahma)
- Karañja-narasiṁha
- Uha-narasiṁha
- Ugra-narasiṁha
- Krodha-narasiṁha
- Malola-narasiṁha (With Lakṣmī on His lap)
- Jvālā-narasiṁha (an eight armed form rushing out of the pillar)
- Pavana-narasiṁha (who blessed the sage Bharadvaja)
Forms from Prahlad story:
- Stambha-narasiṁha (coming out of the pillar)
- Svayam-narasiṁha (manifesting on His own)
- Grahaṇa-narasiṁha (catching hold of the demon)
- Vidāraṇa-narasiṁha (ripping open of the belly of the demon)
- Saṁhāra-narasiṁha (killing the demon)
The following three refer to His ferocious aspect:
- Ghora-narasiṁha
- Ugra-narasiṁha
- Candā-narasiṁha
OTHERS
- Pañcamukha-Hanumān-narasiṁha, (appears as one of Śrī Hanuman's five faces.)
- Pṛthvī-narasiṁha, Vayu-narasiṁha, Ākāśa-narasiṁha, Jvalana-narasiṁha, and
- Amṛta-narasiṁha, (representing the five elements)
- Jvālā-narasiṁha (with a flame-like mane)
- Lakṣmī-narasiṁha (where Lakṣmī pacifies Him)
- Prasāda/Prahlāda-varadā-narasiṁha (His benign aspect of protecting Prahlad)
- Chatrā-narasiṁha (seated under a parasol of a five-hooded serpent)
- Yoga-narasiṁha or Yogeśvara-narasiṁha (in meditation)
- Āveśa-narasiṁha (a frenzied form)
- Aṭṭahasa-narasiṁha (a form that roars horribly and majestically strides across to destroy evil)
- Cakra-narasiṁha, (with only a discus in hand)
- Viṣṇu-narasiṁha, Brahma-narasiṁha and Rudra-narasiṁha
- Puṣṭi narasiṁha, (worshipped for overcoming evil influences)
EARLY IMAGES
In Andhra Pradesh, a panel dating to third-fourth century AD shows a full theriomorphic squatting lion with two extra human arms behind his shoulders holding Vaiṣṇava emblems. This lion, flanked by five heroes (vīra), often has been identified as an early depiction of Narasiṁha. Standing cult images of Narasiṁha from the early Gupta period, survive from temples at Tigowa and Eran. These sculptures are two-armed, long maned, frontal, wearing only a lower garment, and with no demon-figure of Hiraṇyakaśipu. Images representing the narrative of Narasiṁha slaying the demon Hiraṇyakaśipu survive from slightly later Gupta-period temples: one at Madhia and one from a temple-doorway now set into the Kūrma-maṭha at Nachna, both dated to the late fifth or early sixth century A.D.
An image of Narasiṁha supposedly dating to second-third century AD sculpted at Mathura was acquired by the Philadelphia Museum of Art in 1987. It was described by Stella Kramrisch, the former Philadelphia Museum of Art's Indian curator, as "perhaps the earliest image of Narasiṁha as yet known". This figure depicts a furled brow, fangs, and lolling tongue similar to later images of Narasiṁha, but the idol's robe, simplicity, and stance set it apart. On Narasiṁha's chest under his upper garment appears the suggestion of an amulet, which Stella Kramrisch associated with Visnu's cognizance, the Kauṣtubha jewel. This upper garment flows over both shoulders; but below Hiranyakasipu, the demon-figure placed horizontally across Narasiṁha's body, a twisted waist-band suggests a separate garment covering the legs. The demon's hair streams behind him, cushioning his head against the man-lion's right knee. He wears a simple single strand of beads. His body seems relaxed, even pliant. His face is calm, with a slight suggestion of a smile. His eyes stare adoringly up at the face of Viṣṇu. There is little tension in this figure's legs or feet, even as Narasiṁha gently disembowels him. His innards spill along his right side. As the Matsya purana describes it, Narasiṁha ripped "apart the mighty Daitya chief as a plaiter of straw mats shreds his reeds". Based on the Gandhara-style of robe worn by the idol, Michael Meiste altered the date of the image to fourth century AD.
Deborah Soifer, a scholar who worked on texts in relation to Narasiṁha, believes that "the traits basic to Viṣṇu in the Veda remain central to Viṣṇu in his avataras" and points out, however, that:
- we have virtually no precursors in the Vedic material for the figure of a man-lion, and only one phrase that simply does not rule out the possibility of a violent side to the benign Viṣṇu.
Soifer speaks of the enigma of Viṣṇu's Narasiṁha avatāra and comments that how the myth arrived at its rudimentary form [first recorded in the Mahābhārata], and where the figure of the man-lion came from remain unsolved mysteries.
An image of Narasiṁha, dating to the 9th century, was found on the northern slope of Mount Ijo, at Prambanan, Indonesia. Images of Trivikrama and Varāha avatāras were also found at Prambanan, Indonesia. Viṣṇu and His avatāra images follow iconographic peculiarities characteristic of the art of central Java. This includes physiognomy of central Java, an exaggerated volume of garment, and some elaboration of the jewelry. This decorative scheme once formulated became, with very little modification, an accepted norm for sculptures throughout the Central Javanese period (circa 730–930 A.D.). Despite the iconographic peculiarities, the stylistic antecedents of the Java sculptures can be traced back to Indian carvings as the Chalukya and Pallava images of the 6th–7th centuries AD.
CULTURAL TRADITION OF PROCESSION (SRI NRSIMHA YATRA)
In Rājopadhyāya Brahmins of Nepal, there is a tradition of celebrating the procession ceremony of the deity Narasiṁha avatar, in Lalitpur district of the Kathmandu Valley in Nepal. The Lunar fifth day of the waning phase of the moon, in the holy Soli-lunar Śrāvaṇa month i.e. on Śrāvaṇa Kṛṣṇa Pañcamī of the Hindu Lunar Calendar is marked as auspicious day for the religious procession, Nṛsiṁha Yātrā. This tradition of the holy procession has been held for more than a hundred years. This is one of the typical traditions of the Rājopadhyāya Bramhins, the Hindu Bramhans of the locality.
In this Nṛsiṁha Yātrā, each year one male member of the Rājopadhyāya community gets the chance to be the organizer each year in that particular day. He gets his turn according to the sequence in their record, where the names of Rājopadhyāya bramhins are registered when a brahmāṇa lad is eligible to be called as a Bramhan.
WIKIPEDIA