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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
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.
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" .
+++ 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.
“.. Miss Maffei an Miss Fiore were set upon by brigands…. Their car was stopped; they were treated with discourtesy, and robbed…… Miss Maffei’s purse was taken , and her rings….. Miss Fiore was despoiled of……”
Fer-de-Lance is the first Nero Wolfe detective novel written by Rex Stout, published in 1934 by Farrar & Rinehart, Inc. The novel appeared in abridged form in The American Magazine (November 1934) under the title "Point of Death." The novel was adapted for the 1936 movie Meet Nero Wolfe. In his seminal 1941 work, Murder for Pleasure, crime fiction historian Howard Haycraft included Fer-de-Lance in his definitive list of the most influential works of mystery fiction.
The first Nero Wolfe mystery opens with a scene showing Nero Wolfe deciding to give up bootleg beer, and sending out Fritz to purchase every beer that can be purchased legally for him to select a replacement. The date set in the novel is given as June seventh, Wednesday, which makes the year 1933. The Cullen-Harrison Act had just became law on April 7, 1933 legalising "3.2 beer" (3.2% alcohol by weight, approximately 4% alcohol by volume), a point mentioned in passing in the novel.
While sampling the beers with Goodwin, none of which Nero Wolfe seems genuinely surprised to find is swill, Fred Durkin arrives and asks sheepishly if Wolfe would meet Maria Maffei, a friend of his wife for a case. Maria's brother, Carlo, a metal worker, was unemployed (it was during the Depression) and was supposed to return to Italy. He suddenly seemed to come into money, and then disappeared mysteriously. Impressed by Maria Maffei, Wolfe instructs Goodwin to make enquiries. Wolfe and Goodwin soon learn that Carlo's disappearance somehow involves the death of a college president while playing golf in Westchester County, New York.
Although the characters are not as fully developed as they would become later in the series, the essential characteristics of Wolfe, Archie, and several other regulars already are clearly present.
As the first novel in the series, Fer-de-Lance introduces Nero Wolfe, Archie Goodwin, Fritz Brenner, Saul Panzer, Fred Durkin, Orrie Cather and other characters who recur throughout the entire corpus. Its descriptions of Wolfe's Manhattan brownstone conflict with the established architecture set down by Stout in all subsequent novels and stories, so may be viewed as somewhat non-canonical. Likewise, the characters have slightly different personalities. Wolfe's manner of speaking is notably more baroque and long-winded than in later stories.
The story's title is the common name of Bothrops atrox, a venomous South American snake.[2] Fer-de-Lance is French for spearhead, literally iron of the lance.
Plot Synopsis:
Maria Maffei, a family friend of one of his sometime employees Fred Durkin, appeals to Wolfe to locate her missing brother Carlo, a metalworker. Wolfe, affected by the Depression, decides to take the job, although it is unappealing to him. Archie locates Anna Fiore, a girl who listened in on a phone call Carlo received at his boarding-house. Wolfe learns from her that Carlo had clipped a story from a copy of the New York Times about the sudden death (apparently by stroke) of Peter Oliver Barstow, president of Holland College. Before Wolfe makes any more progress, Carlo Maffei is found stabbed in the back in the countryside. His sister says she will pay Wolfe to find his killer, so he keeps working.
The Murder:
Barstow dropped dead on the golf course - heart attack, said his doctor . . . his family . . . and the police.
But Nero Wolfe looked at a cutup newspaper and some steamship tags . . . and called it murder - a unique and incredibly complex murder! A wild guess? Not when Wolfe bet his last $10,000 that he was right!
About Archie:
Rex Stout's
Physical Description of Archie
Courtesy of the Stout estate; pulled from Rex Stout's own archives; here is rarely seen memorabilia. Rex Stout's own description of his beloved character, written in 1949 and not meant for publication at the time:
Height 6 ft. Weight 180 lbs. Age 32.
Hair is light rather than dark, but just barely decided not to be red; he gets it cut every two weeks, rather short, and brushes it straight back, but it keeps standing up. He shaves four times a week and grasps at every excuse to make it only three times. His features are all regular, well-modeled and well-proportioned, except the nose. He escapes the curse of being the movie actor type only through the nose. It is not a true pug and is by no means a deformity, but it is a little short and the ridge is broad, and the tip has continued on its own, beyond the cartilage, giving the impression of startling and quite independent initiative. The eyes are grey, and are inquisitive and quick to move. He is muscular both in appearance and in movement, and upright in posture, but his shoulders stoop a little in unconscious reaction to Wolfe's repeated criticism that he is too self-assertive.
The Author:
About Rex Stout
Author, Business Man, Sailor,
Activist, Family Man, &
a person with many interests
Rex Todhunter Stout was born in Noblesville, Indiana, December 1, 1886. He was the sixth of nine children born to John and Lucetta Todhunter Stout. Educated in Kansas, he was recognized as a prodigy in arithmetic, and he studied at the University of Kansas. Stout quit school to enlist in the Navy where he spent two years as warrant officer on board President Theodore Roosevelt's yacht.
After the Navy, he began to write and tried his hand at a variety of jobs. With his brother, Stout devised and implemented a school banking system. Bank Day proved a very successful venture and allowed Stout to move to Paris and write full-time.
He published three novels before he turned to the mystery genre. The books received favorable reviews but were not best sellers. Stout returned to the United States and built a house on the Connecticut-New York state line. Fer-de-Lance, Stout's first Nero Wolfe novel, appeared in 1934.
More than seventy other Nero Wolfe books and stories followed. During World War II, Rex Stout waged a personal campaign against Nazism as chairman of the War Writers Board, master of ceremonies of the radio program, "Speaking of Liberty," and member of several national committees. After the war, he resumed writing Nero Wolfe novels. In 1959 he won the Mystery Writers of America's Grand Master Award. Rex Stout died October 27, 1975 at the age of 88. A month before his death, he published his final Nero Wolfe book, A Family Affair.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Theartre and Art Departments
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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.
********************************************************************************
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.
***************************
+++ 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.
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 :)
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.
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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.
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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.
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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...
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.
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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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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.
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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 )
I pulled this watercolour/drawing out of a record sleeve at warren's store. at first glance it looked like my own drawing, but then i had the eerie experience of realizing it was not! It has the words "Gratte" repeated near the top and remains an unsolved mystery.
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 Dept.
Chatwick University
**************************** Story ***************************
A full moon peeks through the heavy fall clouds, its rays transcending down and bathing in a soft light, the over grown, untended, remains of what once had been a proper English garden. Its soft rays catch the old moss roses, lilacs, and various other old growth flowers, their once still vibrant colours faded now that the fall is approaching.
But something still is vibrant here, brightly flashing a colourful fire as it moves along an old flagstone path.
Two feminine figures in fancy dress move guardedly along the path, gown and jewels are the source of the added fiery colours now caught by the full harvest moon’s rays. The rustle of satin is heard as a long, slinky gown sweeps along the leaf littered flagstone path at the spiked heels of its owners feet. Soft voices carry in murmurs as they walk, breaking up what, until a few minutes, ago had been the hushed silence brought upon by the notice of the pair by the gardens inhabitants.
The twosome finally reaches an old garden shed, its weather-beaten door half ajar, broken remnants of glass still hang in its front window; some ancient, rusty tools still lay up along its side wall. As they stand there the younger one suddenly jumps, giving a little gasp. What is it dear? her companion asks sweetly. She looks into her companions’ deep mesmerizing brown eyes, someone is moving along that path over there, on the other side of the pond. Mother said that no one should be outdoors on this side of town, she add, worry now creeping up on her. The older woman turns her head abruptly, I see him, you had better wait her, and I’ll make sure that whoever it is will not bother us.
A cop on his beat is seen walking along the outer path that lines the old garden leading to the manor house at the opposite end of what is now an inner city block. He jumps a little as a figure steps out of the mist that has now started to spread from a small pond the he is walking by.
Mae looks back at the garden shed that now sits back in the woods a little ways; her youthful companion’s colourful gown is vibrant against the faded walls of the shed. She turns away and looks at the copper walking towards her, unaware as of yet that he is no longer alone. Mae walks out of the mist and onto the sidewalk, noticing with satisfaction that she has startled him. She approaches and walks past the stern copper, as she does Mae tosses his way the sorta glance that she knew would pique the coppers natural distrust, making him turn to follow and see what mischief was going on!
Her long hair streaming down her back, creating a halo in the moonlit garden, her shimmering long jeweled earrings sway gently, watches as her companion walk up to the figure on the path. She is suddenly self-aware of how she is dressed, and how vulnerable they are out here alone, away from the bright lights and safety of the manor they had left some ten minutes ago. She hopes the figure isn’t someone nasty who will harm her friend. Her back is to the old door of the shed. The clouds again cover the moon. The young girl shivers, though it really is not that cold out. Suddenly a quick shadow emerges, a hand is clasped over her mouth, another grabs her by her silky waist, and she is pulled struggling into the darkness of the shed, vanishing from sight like the moon above her. Gradually the night voices of the garden return, chirping, hooting, and such. But as for the garden shed, sounds are no longer heard from within…..
What Led to This?
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It had been the boys who had first spotted the ladies in colorfully long shiny gowns. Those gowns fluidly rustling along shapely figures crossing the street leading to ornate front doors of the old Hampton East club Mansion. But it had been their “sparklers” the glittering jewelry the ladies all seemed to be temptingly showing off, that had made their mouths wolfishly drool.
But, what they had seen when stealing peeks through slits in a velvet curtained window, had made them run to find Mae. They then breathlessly babbled on about the halfcocked, half-baked scheme they had dreamed up. “Even the young’uns had jools” they had excitedly told Mae. She figured that most of it was probably paste, who wears anything of value on the eastside she thought to herself. But just a glimmer of a possibility began to take seed, as she maternally continued to listen to the excited pair.
Mae decided to humor the pair of excitable petty thieves, she owed them some favors anyway, and Mae hated leaving a debt unpaid. Besides, business had been slow lately; it seemed that no one well to do these days need their fortune read. So, for no rhythm or reason other than to see what all the chatter had been about, Mae crashed the upscale event. She slipped inside through the large matching oak doors, without even a second glance from the pensioner guard wearing a loose uniform “manning” the entrance.
Mae was amazed, even she could not have predicted the marvelous displays of wealth, so tantalizingly close, and yet seemingly so far out of reach. Even the dangling “jools” worn with careless abandon by the “Young’uns” mostly 18 through 20 year olds, with a few 16 and 17 year olds peppered in among the multitude of guests, appeared to be the real McCoy!
Mae was also surprised that she had been able to get this far, and so had not even begun to think of ways to profit from the situation. A condition that was going to have to be quickly rectified Mae told herself. Itching to somehow lay her greedy hands on some of the expensive jewels she observed being beckoningly worn by the female guests in attendance. Like the royal appearing lady she was just now walking past. She was in an elegantly flowing purple gown, dripping in gems, especially the small diamonds that were glistening on the thin tiara that held up the rich girl’s luxuriantly long hair.
All in all, Mae was glad she had positioned the boys to wait in the old garden shed, promising it would be worth their while. Mainly Mae had wanted to keep them out of mischief, too avoid having them upset her apple cart, and it appeared to have been a canny move on her part, as she surveyed a young lady with a long flowing mane of hair sweeping by, causing Mae to perk up with interest.
So, it was still with no real purpose in mind yet, that Mae had started to shadow the fetchingly gowned young lady of about nineteen who was timidly working her way , weaving in and out amongst the groups of happily chatting guests. Mae’s desire was a closer scrutiny of the prettily dressed young girl’s savory fiery ruby jewelry, so enticingly slippery upon her sweat glistened figure.
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Mae had always been attracted to rubies ever since a poshly dressed young mother had wandered into the carnival sideshow that Mae had been working some years prior. Mae had been the first to try for a share of the young Mother’s dazzling jewelry after spying her predicament from the interior of her tent.
The obviously well-to-do young Mother had been unwisely left alone to tend to a colicky baby. Mae had forced herself on the wretched Mother, using the pretense of giving a helping hand. Unscrupulously, Mae had seized the opportunity to check along the young Mother’s thick satiny clothes for any valuables.
Passing up on a temptingly lovely, lengthy dangling pendent, Mae’s fingers instead whisked down along the slick long sleeve of the young mother’s arm, as all her attention was being given to the thrashing infant. Passing over a thick braided gold bracelet, Mae’s fingers darted to the young ladies’ left ring finger.
The harried Mother struggled to keep a tight hold on the silken clad infant squirming in her mother’s satin covered arms. As the thrashing child bawled, the mother, finding herself being handicapped by the long sleeved slippery satin blouse she wearing was unable to really pay attention to anything else going on around her. Therefore, Mae was easily able to slip off the invitingly large ruby and diamond engagement ring from the mother’s ring finger, conveniently tear moistened from the squealing infants sobbing.
Ring in hand, Mae then finally listened to the mother’s pleas she didn’t need any help, quit caressing down her tingling attire, and retreated to the dark depths of her tent to watch the rest of the drama unfold.
By the time the young mother had gotten her squalling infant daughter to sleep she had fended off about a dozen additional hands offering to help. Mae had watched with professional interest as some of those hands had cunningly been searching the young lady for anything of value…
Mae observed that the distracted mother’s pendent had been nicked next, easily unclasped and slipped away from the ruffled throat of her glossy blouse! Then, as the mother was bent over the baby’s stroller, her long dangling earrings (the pair!) had been whisked away from out of her long mane of straight hair. Soon followed in quick session by the jeweled pin from her satin ascot, her wrists thick braided gold bracelet, a gold pinky ring, and the contents of her velvet purse. Even the mahogany rattle, and silver pacifier had been plucked from the now sleeping infants hand and mouth as her mother’s shiny back had been turned while searching about for the her babies vanished ermine blanket. All in all a very masterful and complete plucking of the erstwhile pretty hen and her downy chick, Mae thought smugly, for nothing else had been as grand as the ruby ring that Mae had slipped off first.
Now, there were still occasions where Mae dared to wear the magnificent ring, but tonight, had decidedly not been one of those occasions.
(Editor’s note:
The incident Mae instigated at the Carnival was not an original part of her story line
It was actually lifted by our author based upon similar experiences of one Lady Eileen St’D , Surry 1910)
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Mae plotted a way to at least grab this girl’s attention for a closer look, and so she moved in such a fashion to make it a possibility. At the same time the nineteen year old turned her head away, her long hair swirling to behind her back as someone called out a name. Mae broke off her approach and stood nearby, filing away the girls name for future reference. (It had always amazed Mae that just knowing a person’s name could break down barriers and inspire confidence when a stranger used it. ) Mae watched as an older model of the young girl approached, dressed in a glossy satin gown of mint green and laden with shimmering emerald encrusted jewels. She stuck a finger under the girls nose. Mae followed it, the gold ring she was wearing of a serpent encircling her finger with bright emerald eyes, mystifying her.
The lady lectured her daughter on wandering off , especially when it was only her and her Auntie there to watch her. Mae saw the mothers eyes travel towards the regal lady in the purple gown and tiara. Losing interest Mae wandered off, not caring to hear the rest. She knew a blind alley when she saw one. She paused; she also recognized other quarry when she saw it… A lady wearing a flowing gown of red silk was standing off to one side. Shy and uncomfortable, she was the epitome of a Wall-flower, one who attracted little or no attention, or luck, unless it was of the unfortunately bad kind. One who Mae knew she would have to meet.
Mae walked up to her, and began a conversation. It started out uncomfortably, but Mae soon won her over, enchanting the edgy lady enough so that she actually, with a little hesitation, allowed Mae to pick up her palm: believing it was with the the intention of reading her fortune. As the girl was told that fortune, the mousey miss was totally caught under the enchantment of Mae’s eyes and sing-song way of speaking. Mae could see that she had captured the girl’s imagination as she wove her fortune telling around her like a spider would weave its silky web. Then, with delight, Mae saw a special gleam in the girl’s eyes that she knew all too well. A look she had seen before in previous clients, one that told her they were no longer completely caring of what was going on around them.
Mae ever so slightly tightens her grip on the palm she held. Than, with baited breath, Mae began to work a jeweled ring over the knuckle of a warm slender finger , her practiced eye watching the girls face for any sign that she was catching on to what Mae was up to! Mae smiled broadly as she had a habit of doing when one of her wicked schemes was coming to fruitation. The girl smiled impishly in response, totally misinterpreting what that smile stood for. Never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed what this nice lady: with the deep black eyes from which she could not pull away from, who was so pleasantly stroking her palms while telling her fortune so enjoyably, was smiling about! Nor did she have the slightest of inklings that her Grandmother’s pretty ring was going to vanish!
Mae suddenly felt a noticeable vibe wash over her, and she chanced a look around her. Along a back wall was a row of palm trees, in-between them were a series of small stone benches. A solo figure was walking along them, a slinky, long soft gown, fell flowing down to her feet. The figure of the girl whose name Mae now knew. Mae turned her full attention back to the task at hand, easily maneuvering her captive audience so that the wall was now in her full view. Over a silken shoulder Mae watched as the young miss made her slinky way into a powder room, disappearing with a muted swishing of her gown. . Suddenly Mae had an epiphany, realizing exactly how to ensnare the pretty little miss into her web, at the center of which dangled the old garden shed where there were debts to be paid!
Mae finished her “business” with the shy wall-flower, convincing her to go one her way now that her fortunes were assured to be taking a turn for the “better.” She moved off happily enough, glad that she had met the charming stranger, falling for Mae’s story hook, line and ring less finger!
Keeping an eye on the retreating lady as she swept away, Mae headed towards a stone bench that sat near the back exit leading to the old garden, a stone bench that was in a direct line to the approach that the young miss should be taking on her journey back from the powder room. Mae waited, and when she saw her victim open the door, she buried her hands in her face and acted like she was sobbing, all the while watching the girls approach through a crack made by her fingers.
The girl stopped, You okay Ma’am, she asked with genuine, childishly innocent, concern ( as Mae had predicted), Mae jumped like she had not noticed the girl, and looking up into her face, she called the girl by name, starting to spin a new web of deceit. The young miss offered Mae her embroidered silk handkerchief, which she gladly accepted, holding the girls well ringed fingers for a second showing her gratification. While “drying”her eyes, Mae went into her story full throttle; she knew there would not be much time.
The young miss, nervously looked around, as she played with her shiny necklace, holding it with slender ringed fingers , as she innocently listened to the captivating dark haired stranger. Mae, for a second blinded as the diamonds and rubies flashed in the light, smiled inwardly. Overly pretty teenage girls were so naïve and easy to manipulate, she thought, while weaving another , totally different type of story, then the one she had fed the flowing red silked wall flower.
Mae accurately interpreted the reveries of the young miss now in Mae’s clutches. Now under different circumstances the tale that Mae fed the girl would have not gotten her anywhere. But the fact Mae knew the girls name, knew how to make use of the exchange she had witnessewd between the girl and her mother, and also possessed some knowledge of what attracts a young ladies fancy, the circumstances worked wonderfully in her favor. Then, add in Mae’s fortune telling abilities, and the poor, beautifully adorned soul never stood a chance
Mae hit her with all the talent of a quick change artist. And soon Mae was had lured the girl into following her out the exit and walk with her out into the darkened garden. It happened quite literally before the young thing could catch her breath, or clearly think things through. She had totally fallen for the fortune teller’s fairy tale, and now believed she was aiding this lady in distress, as she believed Mae to be. The young miss, more than a little bewildered, walked obediently alongside Mae, under her dark spell, as they made their way ever closer to a seemingly quiet old garden shed.
Mae looked at the girl now walking next to her, innocently unaware of the fact that she had been led out here for one reason only. Totally oblivious to the fact that she now presented nothing more than to the seemingly sweet lady walking next to her than the value of her expensively flowing gown, the bright jewels she was wearing, and the contents of the small purse dangling by her side. Mae smiled to herself, knowing that in the greenhouse her two muggers would miss nothing, the young girls jewels, , fat silken purse, even the gown would all fetch a sweet price when peddled.
It was when they had reached that shed, that Mae’s captive companion had spotted the figure walking along the path by the pond. A figure that Mae knew she would m have to take care of, else risk having her carefully wrought plan fall to pieces…
Led to This:
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Mae looked back and smiled smugly at the copper hot on her heels. Someone is going to be in trouble for leaving his post she thought. Just a couple more blocks should give them enough time in the greenhouse, and then Mae would easily give this flatfoot the slip. Mae’s mind went deliciously back to what should now be happening to the luckless lady in the long shiny gown, and how much Mae’s cut of the take would amount to. It was too bad she would miss the boys at work; Mae did so enjoy watching a good mugging.
As Mae happily led the harness bull away from the garden she marveled over her good fortune, wondering over how things had worked to her benefit. As she did she found herself walking along a block populated with small pubs. At the end of which lay an alley which Mae was going to use as passage to slip away from the copper. By then he would then be safely away from the old gardens. Mae would than circle back. She knew the boys would be finishing their job, but she did not want them to leave without her. She was going to take personal possession of the girls most valuable items. There was no way she was going to trust the two nimble headed crooks with not being cheated out of a fair price for the girl’s jewels.
It was as she reached the alleyway and looked back that she realized the copper was no longer tailing her. She swore to herself, what had happened? She cautiously backtracked, looking into the windows of the pubs as she passed. She stopped at one she knew, one appropriately, in Mae’s mind, named the Hook and Fiddle. It was their that she spotted her lost cop, cradling a beer, and sitting next to tall man at a back table.
Mae headed back on her way. She indistinctively knew that the copper would be occupied for a while. Mainly because she knew the cut of man he was sitting next to. Renauld, a man whose hands touched everything from the rackets, extortion, blackmail, down to trafficking and kidnapping, Renauld, to whom Mae owed some personal favors.
As Mae reached the sidewalk where she had first met the copper, she hastened her step. It would not be long before the girl’s bejeweled mother would be noticing her daughter’s absence…… Mae suddenly stopped, freezing in her tracks. A slow grin spread across her appealing face.
The epiphany that had made Mae stop to think contained the seed of a plan, that was in her opinion, brilliant. The mother should have noticed her daughters absence, and what if someone ,Mae, were to find the wealthy , overbearing lady, as she searched and helpfully divulged to her just what her daughter had been up to. Sneaking off into the garden with a young man, of all the nerve…why I would bet the pair of them is inside the old garden shed in the back snogging away as we speak.
Mae, with a quick stop over at the shed to check on things, hurried back to the manor. And best of all she thought, licking her lips in savoring anticipation as she fine-tuned the story she would use, best of all…, Ladies of that ilk always travel in pairs…
40 minutes later:
Three shadowy figures emerge from an old dilapidated garden shed. Two run off carrying small bundles under their arms. A third follows, taking a look back inside, closes the door and walks almost serenely off in the opposite direction. Something glistens from a finger as the moon once again peeks cautiously from the dark clouds overhead.
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Addendum est
In a smoke filled pub that he owns, a man, wicked, is puffing on a long black cigar. He is seated alone at the back table where he has been holding court that late evening.
The door opens and a female enters. Looking neither left nor right she heads directly to the man’s table.
Wotcher, he says, with perhaps a trace of compassion in an otherwise traditionally unemotionally stern deep voice. He spots the ring she is wearing, a gold serpent enter twined around her finger, its arrow shaped head home to a pair of flickering green emerald eyes.
What fresh wickedness have you been up to this evening he asks her expectantly? Adding, even you shouldn’t be sporting something like that around this area.
Mae meets his gaze, knowing full well she had taken a risk wearing the ring. But she knew that she had to make use of it to gain Renauld’s interest quickly, If game, he would not have much time…..
For if Renauld took the bait, not only would Mae be squared with Renauld, but also probably now be in his debt. For as much a Mae loathed to be in debt to someone, she loved to be owed one……
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The most beautiful women in TV and Movie History now become Barbie Collector Dolls created by acclaimed re-paint Artist Donna Brinkley.
Jacquelyn (Jaclyn) Ellen Smith has been known as the world's Most Beautiful Woman, she was born in Houston, Texas, the daughter of Margaret Ellen and Jack Smith, a dentist. She attended Trinity University in San Antonio.
After college, Smith moved to New York City with hopes of dancing with the ballet. Her career aspirations shifted to modeling and acting as she found work in television commercials and print ads, including one for Listerene mouthwash. She landed a job as a Breck girl for Breck Shampoo in 1971, and a few years later joined another popular model/actress, Farrah Fawcett, as a spokesmodel for Wella Balsam shampoo.
Charlie's Angels
On March 21, 1976, Smith first played Kelly Garrett in Charlie's Angels; the show was aired as a movie of the week, starring Smith, Kate Jackson and Farrah Fawcett (billed as Farrah Fawcett-Majors) as private investigators for Townsend Associates, a detective agency run by a reclusive multi-millionaire whom the women had never met. Voiced by John Forsythe, the Charles Townsend character presented cases and dispensed advice via a speakerphone to his core team of three female employees, to whom he referred as Angels. They were aided in the office and occasionally in the field by two male associates, played by character actors David Doyle and David Ogden Stiers. The program earned a huge Nielsen rating, causing the network to air it a second time and okay production for a series, with all of the principal characters save the one played by Stiers. The series formally debuted on September 22, 1976, and ran for five seasons. The show would become a smash success not only in the U.S. but, in successive years, in syndication around the world, spawning a cottage industry of peripheral products, particularly in the show's first three seasons, including several series of bubble gum cards, two sets of fashion dolls, numerous posters, puzzles, and school supplies, novelizations of episodes, toy vans, and a board game, all featuring Smith's likeness. The Angels also appeared on the covers of magazines around the world, from countless fan magazines to TV Guide (four times) to Time Magazine.
Fawcett departed at the end of the first season, and Cheryl Ladd was a successful addition to the cast, remaining until the end of the series. Jackson departed at the end of the third season, and proved harder to replace, as first Shelley Hack and then Tanya Roberts were brought in to try re-igniting the chemistry, media attention and ratings success enjoyed by the earlier teams. Smith played her role for all five seasons of Charlie's Angels until 1981, also portraying the Garrett character in a guest appearance in the 1977 pilot episode of The San Pedro Beach Bums, and in a cameo in the 2003 feature film Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle. Christina Chambers portrayed Smith in the television film Behind the Camera: The Unauthorized Story of Charlie's Angels.
Smith's first acting venture outside the Angels mold was the CBS-TV movie of the week Escape from Bogen County (1977). Then came a leading role in Joyce Haber's The Users with Tony Curtis and John Forsythe in 1978. In 1980, Smith starred with Robert Mitchum in the suspense thriller Nightkill. She then starred in the title role of the television movie Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy in 1981, receiving a Golden Globe Best Actress nomination for her performance but lost to Jane Seymour. In 1983, Smith starred as Jennifer Parker in the TV movie Rage of Angels, based on the novel by Sidney Sheldon. The film was the highest rated in the Nielsen ratings the week it aired. Smith reprised the role in the 1986 sequel, Rage of Angels: The Story Continues.
In 1988, she appeared with Robert Wagner in Windmills of the Gods. That same year she was offered the chance to star opposite Richard Chamberlain in the adaptation of Robert Ludlum's The Bourne Identity. Smith was Chamberlain's first choice as his leading lady but she had just wrapped up with the Windmills of the Gods shoot and declined the part. The role was offered to Lesley-Anne Down who wanted her husband to photograph the film. Producers refused and again offered the role to Smith, who then accepted.
In 1989, Smith starred in Settle the Score. This film again proved her Nielsen ratings clout. Other television movies and miniseries in which Smith appeared include George Washington, The Night They Saved Christmas, Florence Nightingale, Sentimental Journey, Lies Before Kisses, The Rape of Dr. Willis, In the Arms of a Killer, and several TV versions of Danielle Steel novels, including Kaleidoscope and Family Album. Smith starred in the 1985 feature film Deja Vu, which was directed by her then-husband Tony Richmond. In 1989, she played the title role in Christine Cromwell, a mystery television series based in San Francisco, but which only lasted one season. That same year, she received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
From 2002 to 2004, Smith had a recurring role as Vanessa Cavanaugh in the TV series The District, which starred Craig T. Nelson. She reprised her role as Kelly Garrett for a short cameo in the 2003 Charlie's Angels feature film. Her appearance at the 2006 Emmy telecast led Bravo TV’s producers to cast Smith as the celebrity host of Bravo’s weekly competitive reality series, Shear Genius, which began airing in March 2007. Shear Genius (Season 2) began airing on June 25, 2008.
In March 2010, Smith returned to acting after a five year absence with a guest role on the NBC television drama Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. In February 2012, it was announced that Smith would be guest-starring on CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, as the mother of David Hodges (played by Wallace Langham).
In 1985, Smith entered the business world with the introduction of her collection of women's apparel for Kmart. She pioneered the concept of celebrities developing their own brands rather than merely endorsing others. A season 15 episode of The Simpsons (The Fat and the Furries) lampooned Smith's many business successes, portraying her as having her own line of axe heads. In May 2009, Smith allowed a documentary crew to profile her home life, design philosophy and relationship with Kmart in an online video series sponsored by Kmart. Her foray into home furnishings was extended to Kmart stores in the fall of 2008, with the chain's introduction of its Jaclyn Smith Today product line of bedding and bath accessories.
Smith has been married four times. Her first marriage was to actor Roger Davis (1968–1975). She married Dennis Cole, an actor who had appeared on Charlie's Angels in 1977 and 1978. Cole appeared on the show two more times before the couple divorced in 1981. Cole's son from a previous marriage, Joe Cole, with whom Smith had maintained a relationship after her divorce from his father, was murdered in 1991 during a robbery; the case remains unsolved. Smith married filmmaker Tony Richmond in 1981, with whom she had two children, Gaston (born 1982) and Spencer Margaret (born 1985), before divorcing Richmond in 1989. Smith has been married to Houston cardiothoracic surgeon[12] Brad Allen since 1997.
Smith battled breast cancer in 2003. In 2010, Smith was featured in 1 a Minute, a documentary about breast cancer.
On September 22, 2009, TMZ.com picked up a Honduran newspaper's false online report that Smith had been hospitalized in a private medical center there; TMZ later retracted the story, reporting that Smith was well and at home in California. Smith posted on her Twitter page, denouncing the Honduran newspaper story as false— Jaclyn is safe and home with her family. She is not in Honduras. It is a lie.
* A number of style mavens and magazine polls have attested to Smith's popularity and declared her one of the most beautiful women in the world. The difficult-to-please Mr. Blackwell once named her "The World's Best Dressed Woman". In 1979, McCall's ran a poll of "Whose Face Most Women Would Like To Have"; Smith topped the list. Smith has had more #1 acting projects than any other actress in Hollywood, and she has often been called the "Queen of the miniseries".
* In 1985, McCall's named her as one of "America's 10 Best Bodies;. People named Smith twice in its annual list of the Most Beautiful People in the World In the April 1984 issue of People, Smith was voted as one of the Ten Great Faces of Our Time. In 1985, Ladies' Home Journal sampled 2,000 men and women in 100 different locations in the United States to determine America's Favorite Women; Smith came in the top of the list as the Most Beautiful Woman in America, with actress Linda Evans coming in second. TV Guide magazine readers voted Smith as the Most Beautiful Woman On Television in 1991.
* Comic strip artist Sy Barry modeled the luscious Diana Palmer, wife of The Phantom, after Smith.
* The French band Air was inspired by Smith's Charlie's Angels character Kelly Garrett to record the song Kelly Watch the Stars for their critically acclaimed 1998 album Moon Safari, and the track was released as a single.
In 2012 beauty critics around the world voted Jaclyn Smith as the Most Beautiful Woman of all time along side Grace Kelly.
Mrs. Allen: Barry! I need you to go pick up a few groceries from the market, our fridge is empty.
But Ma! I'm reading my comic book, can't I go pick them up later?
Barry, I know making friends is hard for you, but don't you think you should put the books down and at least try talking to some kids down by the market?
Ma, I've already told you, no one likes me, they all bully me because I like different things than they do.
Mrs. Allen (sighs): Fine. But I still need those groceries, so help your old lady out and get some for me, the list is on the table.
Alrighty Ma. Do you think I could get some extra money to get the new Jay Garrick comic from the store?
Alright, but don't be too late, I want you home by 6:00 PM. Your dad and I have something we want to talk to you about.
Barry (in a rush): Mkay Ma, I'll be here.
And Barry?
Yeah Ma?
Mrs. Allen (looks Barry in the eyes): Just remember, things just take time. If you rush to judge how your life will play out, you'll end up disliking it.
Eventually, you'll fit in and you'll make some great friends.
Yeah, yeah Ma, I'll see you later.
Bye Barry...
Thunder strikes as the sweaty Barry jolts up from his bed nearly 11 years later. He rips off his thin sheets and fumbles through his drawer for the journal that he keeps.
Barry: Stupid thing, always gets lost in this mess. Ah, there it is!
He carefully opens the 11 year old journal where he keeps a collection of everything he can remember from his recurring nightmares.
Journal: Development #52- "It is 4:32 AM and I woke up due to the same nightmare I have been having for 11 years now. Only this time, I remember more dialogue from my Ma and I's conversation. It's vague, but I remember hearing something about how things just take time and rushing things results in failure..."
Barry puts the journal back in his bedside drawer. He dozes back asleep at 5:02...
Barry writes in his book about the nightmares he has of the past event that comes to him in bits and pieces. The repressed memories his therapist said he'd probably never get back, haunt him almost every night slowly forming into the unsolved mystery story he has been yearning to unveil for years now so that he can clear his father's name.
Barry wakes up feeling groggy and looks at his alarm clock.
9:18 AM
Barry: Shoot! Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot. The captain's going to kill me for being late again.
Barry grabs the nearest sweater he can find and pulls it on himself. He fits in his torn up old shoes and rushes out the building. He runs down the creaky steps that lead to his apartment building and gestures his hand, waiting for a taxi to notice him. Janice, Barry's ancient landlord that appears as if she will crumble if touched, notices Barry's lateness and his usual rushing demeanor. Her 92-year old lungs allow her to blow a loud, crisp whistle that finally hails a taxi.
Barry: Thanks Miss Janice! You're a lifesaver as usual!
And your late as usual Barry, now stop thanking me and go kiss your captain's ass before you lose your job and can't pay me anymore!
Barry grins an awkward smile and gets into the cab.
Central City Police Department please! The south entrance.
Taxi Driver: Sure thing Mr. Allen, late again I presume?
Barry: Ah, Mr. Danfort! Didn't even notice it was you! And yes, I have to try and get in through the south entrance so that my captain doesn't see me come in.
Mr. Danport: No need to be formal Mr. Allen, you can just call me Jake. And I'll step on it!
Thanks Mr. Danp...I mean Jake.
As the taxi pulls up to the south garage entrance of the Central City Police Department, Barry runs out the taxi and scans in his ID. The main office cop lets him in as Barry barges through and goes up to the Science wing. He walks through the automatic doors and smiles as he thinks he won't be caught for once.
Captain Frye (sternly): BAARR-RRRYYYY!!! In. My. Office. NOW!
Barry (sighs): Yes Capt'n.
He walks toward the door as all his colleagues snicker at him as this was the 13th time he had been late in the past month. The only thing that kept him from getting fired this long was the fact that Barry Allen was a damn good forensic scientist. The best according to Captain Frye.
Captain Frye: Barry, it's been too frequent that you've been cutting off on hours! Don't you realize how many cases you can get done in the 4 hours you missed!
Yeah, I know Capt'n, I just overslept again...
Still having those nightmares, huh?
Yeah, they're getting longer now, I'm sure I'll have the whole story by the end of the year.
Captain Frye: Barry, I know you have the tendency to reopen cold cases but I can't let you come in 4 hours late and let you keep your job when I use you as the star example here. If you show up late, it makes me look bad.
I know Capt'n, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise.
Don't make promises you can't keep Barry. And since your tardiness is becoming so frequent, I'm going to have to ask you to stay here for an additional 4 hours, so instead of your regular 7PM departure, you're going to have to stay after hours in the lab until 11PM.
But Capt'n! Today's the day they reveal the particle accelerator!
No 'Ifs, ands, or buts', you miss hours in the morning, you take an extra shift. We have TVs here, you'll be able to see the Particle Accelerator from there.
Alright Capt'n. It won't happen again...
Barry repositions his sunken shoulders and walks back out into the lab. As he goes over to the shelf with the brand new case boxes, Patty Spivot walks in, one of his longtime friends at the CCPD and also one of the only girls to show interest in him
Patty: Hey Barry! Late again huh?
Yeah, the Capt'ns giving me an extra shift tonight too.
Dreams again?
Yep...
You know, I'm here if you want to talk about it. So is Forrest.
Thanks Patty, but I just want to finish up my work right now.
Patty (pats Barry on his shoulder): Alright Barry, you take care...
Barry closes up half a dozen cases as the cuckoo clock in the department chimes. Slowly, the building becomes quieter and darker as everyone heads home leaving Barry alone in the Crime Lab.
TV: This is Channel 52 News, live with Betty Parlonds.
Barry pulls off his magnifying equipment from his face and pulls a chair next to the TV to see the particle accelerator turn on.
Betty Parlonds: I'm here in the heart of Central City at the Lexcorp building, where billionaire Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor have combined forces to create this amazing particle accelerator that will power this city for years to come. Unfortunately, neither Mr. Luthor nor Mr. Wayne could make it out here due to the thunderstorms hitting Central City, but the both of them have given their clearance to start this machine.
Barry leans in closer to the TV, waiting for the particle accelerator to finally turn on.
Betty Parlonds: I'm told that the accelerator should be starting anytime soon! The city should be a light show once this thing goes on! And here are the lab scientists now, getting ready to turn on the accelerator!
The Channel 52 News cameraman focuses his lens on the accelerator as Betty Parlonds and many of the Central City population countdown the initiation of the accelerator into Central City's power core.
Betty Parlonds & crowd: 10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2...
The TV shuts off as Barry hears multiple cries and screams from outside the CCPD. The Lexcorp building straight out of his window blows up in huge lights as all the lights on the rest of Central City turn off. Barry walks over to the power box and switches it on and off as the lights turn back on and Barry is struck with a jolt of a spark from the power box. He backs away from the box and lands in a puddle on the floor. He removes his foot from the puddle quickly but he still ends up wet. He attempts to walk over to the bathroom when a streak of lightning bolts through the sky window in the ceiling and hits Barry straight in the chest causing him to fall into a shelf filled with dangerous chemicals. The TV turns back on as Betty Parlonds continues her report.
Oh my God. The particle accelerator had a malfunction and the city is slowly coming back on with power. It is unclear whether the accelerator has worked or if the city is being powered by its back-up generators at the current moment.
The TV turns back off, as does the rest of the power in Central City. Barry lays in the same lifeless position on the chemicals unaware that this accident has just changed the course of his entire life...
____________________________________________________
Tell me what you think! This is just a prequel so the actual stories will have MUCH better pictures and a better format!
Noel Playfair has his eye on me, but the others have turned their backs as 111 "Great Northern" passes Lisburn with its PW train. Why the train came through on the up rather than the down road will be one of life's unsolved mysteries.
All photographs are my copyright and must not be used without permission. Unauthorised use will result in my invoicing you £1,500 per photograph and, if necessary, taking legal action for recovery.
Sunset on Lake Michigan from the Blisswood Resort near Good Hart in northern Michigan. The resort was made famous for the unsolved mass murder of the Robison family in 1968.
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
Nordiska Museet. Gustav Vasa (1496-1560) was King of Sweden from 1523 until his death.
P8260312 b
GUSTAV VASA, THE FATHER OF SWEDEN
Chapter from Hero Tales of the Far North, by Jacob A. Riis (1920)
A great and wise woman had, after ages of war and bloodshed, united the crowns of the three Scandinavian kingdoms upon one head. In the strong city of Kalmar, around which the tide of battle had ever raged hottest, the union was declared in the closing days of the Thirteenth Century. Norwegian, Swede, and Dane were thenceforth to stand together, to the end of time; so they resolved. It was all a vain dream. Queen Margaret was not cold in her grave before the kingdoms fell apart. Norway clung to Denmark, but Sweden went her own way. In the wars of two generations the Danish kings won back the Swedish crown and lost it, again and again, until in 1520 King Christian II clutched it for the last time, at the head of a conquering army. He celebrated his victory with a general amnesty, and bade the Swedish nobles to a great feast, held at the capital in November.
Christian is one of the unsolved riddles of history. Ablest but unhappiest of all his house, he was an instinctive democrat, sincerely solicitous for the welfare of the plain people, but incredibly cruel and faithless when the dark mood seized him. The coronation feast ended with the wholesale butchery of the unsuspecting nobles. Hundreds were beheaded in the public square; for days it was filled with the slain. It is small comfort that the wicked priest who egged the King on to the dreadful deed was himself burned at the stake by the master he had betrayed. The Stockholm Massacre drowned the Kalmar Union in its torrents of blood. Retribution came swiftly. Above the peal of the Christmas bells rose the clash and clangor of armed hosts pouring forth from the mountain fastnesses to avenge the foul treachery. They were led by Gustav1 Eriksson Vasa, a young noble upon whose head Christian had set a price.
The Vasas were among the oldest and best of the great Swedish families. It was said of them that they ever loved a friend, hated a foe, and never forgot. Gustav was born in the castle of Lindholmen, when the news that the world had grown suddenly big by the discovery of lands beyond the unknown seas was still ringing through Europe, on May 12, 1496. He was brought up in the home of his kinsman, the Swedish patriot Sten Sture, and early showed the fruits of his training. "See what I will do," he boasted in school when he was thirteen, "I will go to Dalecarlia, rouse the people, and give the Jutes (Danes) a black eye." Master Ivar, his Danish teacher, gave him a whaling for that. White with anger, the boy drove his dirk through the book, nailing it to the desk, and stalked out of the room. Master Ivar's eyes followed the slim figure in the scarlet cloak, and he sighed wearily "nobilium nati nolunt aliquid pati,—the children of the great will put up with nothing."
Hardly yet of age, he served under the banner of Sten Sture against King Christian, and was one of six hostages sent to the King when he asked an interview of the Swedish leader. But Christian stayed away from the meeting and carried the hostages off to Denmark against his plighted faith. There Gustav was held prisoner a year. All that winter rumors of great armaments against Sweden filled the land. He heard the young bloods from the court prate about bending the stiff necks in the country across the Sound, and watched them throw dice for Swedish castles and Swedish women,—part of the loot when his fatherland should be laid under the yoke. Ready to burst with anger and grief, he sat silent at their boasts. In the spring he escaped, disguised as a cattle-herder, and made his way to Lübeck, where he found refuge in the house of the wealthy merchant Kort König.
They soon heard in Denmark where he was, and the King sent letters demanding his surrender; but the burghers of the Hanse town hated Christian with cause, and would not give him up. Then came Gustav's warder who had gone bail for him in sixteen hundred gulden, and pleaded for his prisoner.
"I am not a prisoner," was Gustav's retort, "I am a hostage, for whom the Danish king pledged his oath and faith. If any one can prove that I was taken captive in a fight or for just cause, let him stand forth. Ambushed was I, and betrayed." The Lübeck men thought of the plots King Christian was forever hatching against them. Now, if he succeeded in getting Sweden under his heel, their turn would come next. Better, they said, send this Gustav home to his own country, perchance he might keep the King busy there; by which they showed their good sense. His ex-keeper was packed off back home, and Gustav reached Sweden, sole passenger on a little coast-trader, on May 31, 1520. A stone marks the spot where he landed, near Kalmar; for then struck the hour of Sweden's freedom.
But not yet for many weary months did the people hear its summons. Swedish manhood was at its lowest ebb. Stockholm was held by the widow of Sten Sture with a half-famished garrison. In Kalmar another woman, Anna Bjelke, commanded, but her men murmured, and the fall of the fortress was imminent. When Gustav Vasa, who had slipped in unseen, exhorted them to stand fast, they would have mobbed him. He left as he had come, the day before the surrender. Travelling by night, he made his way inland, finding everywhere fear and distrust. The King had promised that if they would obey him "they should never want for herring and salt," so they told Gustav, and when he tried to put heart into them and rouse their patriotism, they took up bows and arrows and bade him be gone. Indeed, there were not wanting those who shot at him. Like a hunted deer he fled from hamlet to hamlet. Such friends as he had left advised him to throw himself upon the King's mercy; told him of the amnesty proclaimed. But Gustav's thoughts dwelt grimly among the Northern mountaineers whom as a boy he had bragged he would set against the tyrant. Insensibly he shaped his course toward their country.
He was with his brother-in-law, Joachim Brahe, when the King's message bidding him to the coronation came. Gustav begged him not to go, but Brahe's wife and children were within Christian's reach, and he did not dare stay away. When he left, the fugitive hid in his ancestral home at Räfsnäs on lake Mälar. There one of Brahe's men brought him news of the massacre in which his master and Gustav's father had perished. His mother, grandmother, and sisters were dragged away to perish in Danish dungeons. On Gustav's head the King had set a price, and spies were even then on his track.
Gustav's mind was made up. What was there now to wait for? Clad as a peasant, he started for Dalecarlia with a single servant to keep him company, but before he reached the mines the man stole all his money and ran away. He had to work now to live, and hired out to Anders Persson, the farmer of Rankhyttan. He had not been there many days when one of the women saw an embroidered sleeve stick out under his coat and told her master that the new hand was not what he pretended to be. The farmer called him aside, and Gustav told him frankly who he was. Anders Persson kept his secret, but advised him not to stay long in any one place lest his enemies get wind of him. He slipped away as soon as it was dark, nearly lost his life by breaking through the ice, but reached Ornäs on the other side of Lake Runn, half dead with cold and exposure. He knew that another Persson who had been with him in the war lived there, and found his house. Arendt Persson was a rascal. He received him kindly, but when he slept harnessed his horse and went to Måns Nilsson, a neighbor, with the news: the King's reward would make them both rich, if he would help him seize the outlawed man.
Måns Nilsson held with the Danes, but he was no traitor, and he showed the fellow the door. He went next to the King's sheriff; he would be bound to help. To be sure, he would claim the lion's share of the blood-money, but something was better than nothing. The sheriff came soon enough with a score of armed men. But Arendt Persson had not reckoned with his honest wife. She guessed his errand and let Gustav down from the window to the rear gate, where she had a sleigh and team in waiting. When the sheriff's posse surrounded the house, Gustav was well on his way to Master Jon, the parson of Svärdsjö, who was his friend. Tradition has it that while Christian was King, the brave little woman never dared show her face in the house again.
Master Jon was all right, but news of the man-hunt had run through the country, and when the parson's housekeeper one day saw him hold the wash-bowl for his guest she wanted to know why he was so polite to a common clod. Master Jon told her that it was none of her business, but that night he piloted his friend across the lake to Isala, where Sven Elfsson lived, a gamekeeper who knew the country and could be trusted. The good parson was hardly out of sight on his way back when the sheriff's men came looking for Gustav. It did not occur to them that the yokel who stood warming himself by the stove might be the man they were after. But the gamekeeper's wife was quick to see his peril. She was baking bread and had just put the loaves into the oven with a long-handled spade. "Here, you lummox!" she cried, and whacked him soundly over the back with it, "what are ye standing there gaping at? Did ye never see folks afore? Get back to your work in the barn." And Gustav, taking the hint, slunk out of the room.
For three days after that he lay hidden under a fallen tree in the snow and bitter cold; but even there he was not safe, and the gamekeeper took him deeper into the forest, where a big spruce grew on a hill in the middle of a frozen swamp. There no one would seek him till he could make a shift to get him out of the country. The hill is still there; the people call it the King's Hill, and not after King Christian, either. But in those long nights when Gustav Vasa listened to the hungry wolves howling in the woods and nosing about his retreat, it was hardly kingly conceits his mind brooded over. His father and kinsmen were murdered; his mother and sister in the pitiless grasp of the tyrant who was hunting him to his death; he, the last of his race, alone and forsaken by his own. Bitter sorrow filled his soul at the plight of his country that had fallen so low. But the hope of the young years came to the rescue: all was not lost yet. And in the morning came Sven, the gamekeeper, with a load of straw, at the bottom of which he hid him. So no one would be the wiser.
It was well he did it, for half-way to the next town some prowling soldiers overtook them, and just to make sure that there was nothing in the straw, prodded the load with their spears. Nothing stirred, and they went on their way. But a spear had gashed Gustav's leg, and presently blood began to drip in the snow. Sven had his wits about him. He got down, and cut the fetlock of one of the beasts with his jack-knife so that it bled and no one need ask questions. When they got to Marnäs, Gustav was weak from the loss of blood, but a friendly surgeon was found to bind up his wounds.
Farther and farther north he fled, keeping to the deep woods in the day, until he reached Rättwik. Feeling safer there, he spoke to the people coming from church one Sunday and implored them to shake off the Danish yoke. But they only shook their heads. He was a stranger among them, and they would talk it over with their neighbors. Not yet were his wanderings over. To Mora he went next, where Parson Jakob hid him in a lonely farm-house. Evil chance led the spies direct to his hiding-place, and once more it was the housewife whose quick wit saved him. Dame Margit was brewing the Yule beer when she saw them coming. In a trice she had Gustav in the cellar and rolled the brewing vat over the trap-door. Then they might search as they saw fit; there was nothing there. The first blood was spilled for Gustav Vasa while he was at Mora, and it was a Dane who did it. He was the kind that liked to see fair play; when an under-sheriff came looking for the hunted man there, the Dane waylaid and killed him.
Christmas morning, when Master Jakob had preached his sermon in the church, Gustav spoke to the congregation out in the snow-covered churchyard. A gravestone was his pulpit. Eloquent always, his sorrows and wrongs and the memory of the hard months lent wings to his words. His speech lives yet in Dalecarlia, for now he was among its mountains.
"It is good to see this great meeting," he said, "but when I think of our fatherland I am filled with grief. At what peril I am here with you, you know who see me hounded as a wild beast day by day, hour by hour. But our beloved country is more to me than life. How long must we be thralls, we who were born to freedom? Those of you who are old remember what persecution Swedish men and women have suffered from the Danish kings. The young have heard the story of it and have learned from they were little children to hate and resist such rule. These tyrants have laid waste our land and sucked its marrow, until nothing remains for us but empty houses and lean fields. Our very lives are not safe." He called upon them to rise and drive the invaders out. If they wanted a leader, he was ready.
His words stirred the mountaineers deeply. Cries of anger were heard in the crowd; it was not the first time they had taken up arms in the cause of freedom. But when they talked it over, the older heads prevailed; there had not been time enough to hear both sides. They told him that they would not desert the King; he must expect nothing of them.
Broken-hearted and desperate, Gustav Vasa turned toward the Norwegian frontier. He would leave the country for which there was no hope. While the table in the poorest home groaned with Yuletide cheer, Sweden's coming king hid under an old bridge, outcast and starving, till it was safe to leave. Then he took up his weary journey alone. The winter cold had grown harder as the days grew shorter. Famished wolves dogged his steps, but he outran them on his snow-shoes. By night he slept in some wayside shelter, such as they build for travellers in that desolate country, or in the brush. The snow grew deeper, and the landscape wilder, as he went. For days he had gone without food, when he saw the sun set behind the lofty range that was to bar him out of home and hope forever. Even there was no abiding place for him. What thoughts of his vanished dream, perchance of the distant lands across the seas where the tyrant's hand could not reach him, were in his mind, who knows, as he bent his strength to the last and hardest stage of his journey? He was almost there, when he heard shouts behind him and turned to sell his life dear. Two men on skis were calling to him. They were unarmed, and he waited to let them come up.
Their story was soon told. They had come to call him back. After he left, an old soldier whom they knew in Mora had come from the south and told them worse things than even Gustav knew. It was all true about the Stockholm murder; worse, the King was having gallows set up in every county to hang all those on who said him nay; a heavy tax was laid upon the peasants, and whoever did not pay was to have a hand or foot cut off; they could still follow the plow. And now they had sent away the one man who could lead against the Danes, with the forests full of outlawed men who would have enlisted under him as soon as ever the cry was raised! While the men of Dalecarlia were debating the news among themselves orders came from the bailiff at Westerås that the tax was to be paid forthwith. That night runners were sent on the trail of Gustav to tell him to come back; they were ready.
When he came, it was as if a mighty storm swept through the mountains. The people rose in a body. Every day whole parishes threw off their allegiance to King Christian. Sunday after Sunday Gustav spoke to the people at their meeting-houses, and they raised their spears and swore to follow him to death. Two months after the murder in Stockholm an army of thousands that swelled like an avalanche was marching south, and province after province joined in the rebellion. King Christian's host met them at Brunbäck in April. One of its leaders asked the country folk what kind of men the Dalecarlians were, and when he was told that they drank water and ate bread made of bark, he cried out, "Such a people the devil himself couldn't whip; let us get out." But his advice was not taken and the Danish army was wiped out. Gustav halted long enough to drill his men and give them time to temper their arrows and spears, then he fell upon Westerås and beat the Danes there. The peasant mob scattered too soon to loot the town, and the King's men came back with a sudden rush. Only Gustav's valor and presence of mind saved the day that had been won once from being lost again.
When it was seen that the Danes were not invincible, the whole country rose, took the scattered castles, and put their defenders to the sword. Gustav bore the rising on his shoulders from first to last. He was everywhere, ordering and leading. His fiery eloquence won over the timorous; his irresistible advance swept every obstacle aside. In May he took Upsala; by midsummer he was besieging Stockholm itself. Most of the other cities were in his hands. The Hanse towns had found out what this Gustav could do at home. They sang his praise, but as for backing him with their purse, that was another matter. They refused to lend Gustav two siege-guns when he lay before Stockholm, though he offered to pledge a castle for each. He had no money. Happily his enemy, Christian, was even worse off. Neither pledges nor promises could get him the money he needed. His chief men were fighting among themselves and made peace only to turn upon him. Within a year after the Swedish people had chosen Gustav Vasa to be Regent at the Diet of Vadstena, Christian went into exile and, when he tried to get his kingdom back, into prison, where he languished the rest of his life. He fully deserved his fate. Yet he meant well and had done some good things in his day. Had he been able to rule himself, he might have ruled others with better success. Schoolboys remember with gratitude that he forbade teachers to "spank their pupils overmuch and without judgment, as was their wont."
At the Diet of Vadstena the people had offered Gustav the crown, but he put it from him. Scarce eight months had passed since he hid under the bridge, hunted and starving. When Stockholm had fallen after a siege of two years and all Sweden was free, the people met (1523) and made him King, whether or no. He still objected, but gave in at last and was crowned.
Popular favor is fickle. Hard times came that were not made easier by Gustav's determination to fill the royal coffers, and the very Dalecarlians who had put him in the high seat rose against him and served notice that if things did not mend they would have none of him. Gustav made sure that they had no backing elsewhere, then went up and persuaded them to be good by cutting off the heads of their leaders, who both happened to be priests: one was even a bishop. He had been taught in a school that always found an axe ready to hand. Let those who lament the savagery of modern warfare consider what happened then to a Danish fleet that tried to bring relief to hard-pressed Stockholm. It was beaten in a fight in which six hundred men were taken prisoners. They were all, say the accounts, "tied hand and foot and flung overboard amid the beating of drums and blowing of trumpets to drown their cries." The clergy fared little better than the laymen in that age, but then it was their own fault. In plotting and scrapping they were abreast of the worst and took the consequences.
They were the days of the Reformation, and Gustav would not have been human had he failed to see a way out of his money troubles by confiscating church property. He had pawned the country's trade to the merchants of Lübeck and there was nothing else left. Naturally the church opposed him. The King took the bull by the horns. He called a meeting and told the people that he was sick of it all. He had encouraged the Reformation for their good; now, if they did not stand by him, they might choose between him and his enemies. The oldest priest arose at that and said that the church's property was sacred. The King asked if the rest of them thought the same way. Only one voice was raised, and to say yes.
"Then," said Gustav, "I don't want to be your King any more. If it does not rain, you blame me; if the sun does not shine, you do the same. It is always so. All of you want to be masters. After all my trouble and labor for you, you would as lief see my head split with an axe, though none of you dare lay hold of the handle. Give me back what I have spent in your service and I will go away and never come back." And go he did, to his castle, with half a dozen of his nearest friends.
They sat and looked at one another when he was gone, and then priests and nobles fell to arguing among themselves, all talking at once. The plain people, the burghers and the peasants, listened awhile, but when they got no farther, let them know that if they couldn't settle it, they, the people, would, and in a way that would give them little joy. The upshot of it all was that messengers were sent to bring the King back. He made them go three times, and when he came at last, it was as absolute master. In the ordering of the kingdom that was made there, he became the head of the church as well as of the state. Gustav's pen was as sharp as his tongue. When Hans Brask, the oldest prelate in the land, who had stood stoutly by the old régime, left the country and refused to come back, he wrote to him: "As long as you might milk and shear your sheep, you staid by them. When God spake and said you were to feed them, not to shear and slaughter them, you ran away. Every honest man can judge if you have done well." Hard words to a good old man; but there were plenty of others who deserved them. That was the end of the hierarchy in Sweden.
But not of the unruly peasants who had tasted the joys of king-making. How kindly they took to the Reformation at the outset one can judge from the demand of some of them that the King should "burn or otherwise kill such as ate meat on Friday." They rose again and again, and would listen only to the argument of force. When the Lübeckers pressed hard for the payment of old debts, and the treasury was empty as usual, King Gustav hit upon a new kind of revenue. He demanded of every church in the land that it give up its biggest bell to the funds. It was the last straw. The Dalecarlians rose against what they deemed sacrilege, under the leadership of Måns Nilsson and Anders Persson of Rankhyttan, the very men who had befriended Gustav in his need, and the insurrection spread. The "War of the Bells" was settled with the sword, and the peasants gave in. But Gustav came of a stock that "never forgot." Two years later, when his hands were free at home, he suddenly invaded Dalecarlia with a powerful army, determined to "pull those weeds up by the roots." He summoned the peasants to Thing, made a ring around them of armed men, and gave them their choice:
"Submit now for good and all," he said, "or I will spoil the land so that cock shall not crow nor hound bark in it again forever!"
The frightened peasants fell on their knees and begged for mercy. He made them give up their leaders, including his former friends, and they were all put to the sword. After that there was peace in Dalecarlia.
Gustav Vasa's long reign ended in 1560. Like his enemy, Christian II, he was a strange mixture of contradictions. He was brave in battle, wise in council, pious, if not a saint, clean, and merciful when mercy fitted into his plans. His enemies called him a greedy, suspicious despot. Greedy he was. More than eleven thousand farms were confiscated by the crown during his reign, and he left four thousand farms and a great fortune to his children as his personal share. But historians have called him "the great housekeeper" who found waste and loss and left an ordered household. He gave all for Sweden, and all he had was at her call. It was share and share alike, in his view. Despotic he could be, too. L'état c'est moi might have been said by him. But he did not exploit the state; he built it. He fashioned Sweden out of a bunch of quarrelsome provincial governments into a hereditary monarchy, as the best way—indeed, the only way then—of giving it strength and stability. He was suspicious because everybody had betrayed him, or had tried to. With all that, his steady purpose was to raise and enlighten his people and make them keep the peace, if he had to adopt the Irishman's plan of keeping it himself with an axe. He was the father of a line of great warriors. Gustav Adolf was his grandson.
Bent under the burden of years, he bade his people good-by at the Diet of Stockholm, a few weeks before his death. His old eloquence rings unimpaired in the farewell. He thanked God, who had chosen him as His tool to set Sweden free from thralldom. Almost might he liken himself to King David, whom God from a shepherd had made the leader of his people. No such hope was in his heart when, forty years before, he hid in the woods from a bloodthirsty enemy. For what he had done wrong as king, he asked the people's pardon; it was not done on purpose. He knew well that many thought him a hard ruler, but the time would come when they would gladly dig him up from his grave if they only could. And with that he went out, bowing deeply to the Diet, the tears streaming down his face.
They saw him no more; but on his tomb the Swedish people, forgetting all else, have written that he was the "Father of his Country."
1 The older spelling of this name is followed here in preference to the more modern Gustaf. Gustav Vasa himself wrote his name so.
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
Lillian Ridge, Olympic NP, WA
see www.flickr.com/photos/29750062@N06/6319016090/in/photostream for detail
C. muricatum was previously Coelocaulon muricatum
"C. muricata is similar to C. aculeata but is more compact and has smaller and less abundant pseudocyphellae. Some of our material is intermediate between these two spp, but most is more similar to C. muricata than C. aculeata. Lower elevation collections are often c. aculeata while high-elevation collections are more likely to be C. muricata. Recent work on the population genetics of these species revealed unsolved problems in w N Am." - McCune, Bruce, and Geiser, Linda (2023) Macrolichens of the Pacific Northwest, Third Edition, Revised and Expanded
my lichen photos by genus - www.flickr.com/photos/29750062@N06/collections/7215762439...
my photos arranged by subject, e.g. mountains - www.flickr.com/photos/29750062@N06/collections
Museo Nautico en San Giovanni di Bellagio - Como
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twin barrel box ( marine ) chronometer
Museo degli Strumenti per la navigazione
se ve reforzada por el Museo de los equipos de navegación.
En una casa antigua torre configurado correctamente, ahora se exponen más de 200 objetos preciosos que en los siglos pasados han permitido a la humanidad para navegar en el mar y la vela a nuevos mundos ...
www.bellagiomuseo.com/museo.html
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Metal marine chronometer
supported by wooden / glass / brass case. Suspended in centre of case by two brass pins and secured by fastening latch. Case has brass handles and inlay details.
Rectangular "mother of pearl" plaque attached to front of case above keyhole
John Poole
Maker to the Admiralty
57 Fenchurch St, London ####"
( same engraved on face of chronometer )
seven day "Up-Down" indicator, second's bit, gold hands and eight-day split plate movement
with chain drive fusee, helical hairspring, split balance with adjustment screws and brass weights, spring detent escapement
John Poole 1818 - 1867
Royal Navy - Royal Australian Navy
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Marine chronometer
A marine chronometer is a clock that is precise and accurate enough to be used as a portable time standard; it can therefore be used to determine longitude by means of celestial navigation. When first developed in the eighteenth century it was a major technical achievement, as accurate knowledge of the time over a long sea voyage is necessary for navigation, lacking electronic or communications aids. The first true chronometer was the life work of one man, John Harrison, spanning 31 years of persistent trial and error that revolutionized naval ( and later aerial ) navigation as the Age of Discovery and Colonialism hit a new gear.
The term chronometer ( apparently coined in 1714 by Jeremy Thacker, an early competitor for the prize set by the Longitude Act in the same year ) is used more recently to describe wristwatches tested and certified to meet certain precision standards.
History
( For further details on discovering longitude, see History of longitude. )
To determine a position on the Earth's surface, it is necessary and sufficient to know the latitude, longitude and altitude. Altitude considerations can of course be ignored for vessels operating at sea level. Until the mid 1750s accurate navigation at sea out of sight of land was an unsolved problem due to the difficulty in calculating longitude. Navigators could determine their latitude by measuring the sun's angle at noon ( i.e., when it reached its highest point in the sky, or culmination ). To find their longitude, however, they needed a time standard that would work aboard a ship. Observation of regular celestial motions, such as Galileo's method based on observing Jupiter's natural satellites, was usually not possible at sea due to the ship's motion. The Lunar Distance Method, initially proposed by Johannes Werner in 1514, was developed in parallel with the marine chronometer. The Dutch scientist Gemma Frisius was the first to propose the use of a chronometer to determine longitude in 1530.
The purpose of a chronometer is to measure accurately the time of a known fixed location, for example Greenwich Mean Time ( GMT ). This is particularly important for navigation. Knowing GMT at local noon allows a navigator to use the time difference between the ship's position and the Greenwich Meridian to determine the ship's longitude. As the Earth rotates at a regular rate, the time difference between the chronometer and the ship's local time can be used to calculate the longitude of the ship relative to the Greenwich Meridian ( defined as 0° ) using spherical trigonometry. In modern practice, a navigational almanac and trigonometric sight-reduction tables permit navigators to measure the Sun, Moon, visible planets, or any of 57 navigational stars at any time that the horizon is visible.
The creation of a timepiece which would work reliably at sea was difficult. Until the 20th century the best timekeepers were pendulum clocks, but the rolling of a ship at sea made a simple gravity-based pendulum useless.
First marine chronometers
Christiaan Huygens, following his invention of the pendulum clock in 1656, made the first attempt at a marine chronometer in 1673 in France, under the sponsorship of Jean-Baptiste Colbert. In 1675, Huygens, who was receiving a pension from Louis XIV, invented a chronometer that employed a balance wheel and a spiral spring for regulation, instead of a pendulum, opening the way to marine chronometers and modern pocket watches and wristwatches. He obtained a patent for his invention from Colbert, but his clock remained imprecise at sea.
More attempts were made by Jeremy Thacker in England in 1714, and Henry Sully in France in 1716, who published his work in 1726 with Une Horloge inventée et executée par M. Sulli, but these inventions remained unable to resist the rolling of the high seas and keep time precisely enough.
Drawings of Harrison's H4 chronometer of 1761, in The principles of Mr Harrison's time-keeper, 1767.
Ferdinand Berthoud marine chronometer no.3, 1763.
In 1714, the British government offered a longitude prize for a method of determining longitude at sea, with the awards ranging from £10,000 to £20,000 ( several million pounds in modern terms ) depending on accuracy. John Harrison, a Yorkshire carpenter, submitted a project in 1730, and in 1735 completed a clock based on a pair of counter-oscillating weighted beams connected by springs whose motion was not influenced by gravity or the motion of a ship. His first two sea timepieces H1 and H2 ( completed in 1741 ) used this system, but he realised that they had a fundamental sensitivity to centrifugal force, which meant that they could never be accurate enough at sea. Construction of his third machine, designated H3, in 1759 included novel circular balances and the invention of the bi-metallic strip and caged roller bearings, inventions which are still widely used. However, H3's circular balances proved too inaccurate and he eventually abandoned the large machines.
Harrison solved the precision problems with his much smaller H4 chronometer design in 1761. H4 looked much like a large five-inch ( 12 cm ) diameter pocket watch. In 1761, Harrison submitted H4 for the £20,000 longitude prize. His design used a fast-beating balance wheel controlled by a temperature-compensated spiral spring. This general layout remained in use until stable electronic oscillators allowed very accurate portable timepieces to be made at affordable cost. Harrison then published his work with Principles of Mr. Harrison's time-keeper in 1767.
The modern chronometer
About the same time in France, Pierre Le Roy invented in 1748 the detent escapement characteristic of modern chronometers. In 1766, Pierre Le Roy created a revolutionary chronometer that incorporated a detent escapement, the temperature-compensated balance and the isochronous balance spring: Harrison showed the possibility of having a reliable chronometer at sea, but these developments by Le Roy are considered as the foundation of the modern chronometer. The innovations of Le Roy made the chronometer a much more accurate piece than had been anticipated.
Ferdinand Berthoud in France, as well as Thomas Mudge in Britain also successfully produced marine timekeepers. Although none was simple, they proved that Harrison's design was not the only answer to the problem. The greatest strides toward practicality came at the hands of Thomas Earnshaw and John Arnold, who in 1780 developed and patented simplified, detached, "spring detent" escapements, moved the temperature compensation to the balance, and improved the design and manufacturing of balance springs. This combination of innovations served as the basis of marine chronometers until the electronic era.
The new technology was initially so expensive that not all ships carried chronometers, as illustrated by the fateful last journey of the East Indiaman Arniston. However by 1825, the Royal Navy had begun routinely supplying its vessels with chronometers.
It was common for ships at the time to observe a time ball, such as the one at Greenwich, to check their chronometers before departing on a long voyage. Every day, ships would anchor briefly in the River Thames at Greenwich, waiting for the ball at the observatory to drop at precisely 1pm. This practice was responsible for the subsequent adoption of Greenwich Mean Time as an international standard. ( Time balls became redundant around 1920 with the introduction of radio time signals, which have themselves largely been superseded by GPS time. ) In addition to setting their time before departing on a voyage, ship chronometers were also routinely checked for accuracy while at sea by carrying out lunar or solar observations.
Although industrial production methods began revolutionizing watchmaking in the middle of the 19th century, chronometer manufacture remained craft-based much longer. Around the turn of the 20th century, Swiss makers such as Ulysse Nardin made great strides toward incorporating modern production methods and using fully interchangeable parts, but it was only with the onset of World War II that the Hamilton Watch Company in the US perfected the process of mass production, which enabled them to produce thousands of their superb Model 21 & Hamilton Model 22 chronometers of World War Two for the United States Navy & Army and other Allied navies. Despite Hamilton's success, chronometers made in the old way never disappeared from the marketplace during the era of mechanical timekeepers. Mercer of St. Albans in Britain, for instance, continued to produce high-quality chronometers by traditional production methods well into the 1970s.
Without their accuracy and the accuracy of the feats of navigation that marine chronometers enabled, it is quite likely the ascendancy of the Royal Navy, and by extension that of the British Empire, would not have occurred; the formation of the empire by wars and conquests of colonies abroad took place in a period in which British vessels had reliable navigation due to the chronometer, while their Portuguese, Dutch, and French opponents did not. For example: the French were well established in India and other places before Britain, but were defeated by naval forces in the Seven Years' War.
The most complete international collection of marine chronometers, including Harrison's H1 to H4, is at the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, Britain.
Mechanical chronometers
The crucial problem was to find a resonator that remained unaffected by the changing conditions met by a ship at sea. The balance wheel harnessed to a spring solved most of the problems associated with the ship's motion. Unfortunately, the elasticity of most balance spring materials changes relative to temperature. To compensate for ever-changing spring strength, the majority of chronometer balances used bi-metallic strips to move small weights toward and away from the centre of oscillation, thus altering the period of the balance to match the changing force of the spring. The balance spring problem was solved with a nickel-steel alloy named Elinvar for its invariable elasticity at normal temperatures. The inventor was Charles Edouard Guillaume, who won the 1920 Nobel Prize for physics in recognition for his metallurgical work ( the only Nobel that has been granted for work related to horology ).
The escapement serves two purposes. First, it allows the train to advance fractionally and record the balance's oscillations. At the same time, it supplies minute amounts of energy to counter tiny losses from friction, thus maintaining the equilibrium of the oscillating balance. The escapement is the part that ticks. Since the natural resonance of an oscillating balance serves as the heart of a chronometer, chronometer escapements are designed to interfere with the balance as little as possible. There are many constant force and detached escapement designs, but the most common are the spring detent and pivoted detent. In both of these, a small detent locks the escape wheel and allows the balance to swing completely free of interference except for a brief moment at the centre of oscillation, when it is least susceptible to outside influences. At the centre of oscillation, a roller on the balance staff momentarily displaces the detent, allowing one tooth of the escape wheel to pass. The escape wheel tooth then imparts its energy on a second roller on the balance staff. Since the escape wheel turns in only one direction, the balance receives impulse in only one direction. On the return oscillation, a passing spring on the tip of the detent allows the unlocking roller on the staff to move by without displacing the detent.
Chronometers often included other innovations to increase their efficiency and precision. Hard stones such as ruby and sapphire were often used as jewel bearings to decrease friction and wear of the pivots and escapement. Until the end of mechanical chronometer production in the third quarter of the 20th century, makers continued to experiment with things like ball bearings and chrome-plated pivots.
Marine chronometers always contain a maintaining power which keeps the chronometer going while it is being wound, and a power reserve to indicate how long the chronometer will continue to run without being wound. Marine chronometers are the most accurate portable mechanical clocks ever made, achieving a precision of around a tenth of a second per day. This is accurate enough to locate a ship's position within 4,600 feet ( 1,400 m ) after a month's sea voyage.
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There have been twelve other ships in recorded Imperial history to have received the name of the Athelonian God of War. The first was a war galley launched by the city-state of Athelon some time in 980 BA (Before Aesar). At this ceremony the pagan priests of the time appealed to their deity of the wilder aspect of war opposed to their patron goddess. The only text recording this event, which hints at the presence of a notable storm, claims that the terrible figure of the God of War appeared before them in storm cloud banks. The text claims that Ares mocked the people for their arrogance, and that no ship of war would ever be worth his name, but he bestowed a blessing any way. A "blessing" upon all ships to bear the name promising the greatest of battle fortune, but the harshest of the dregs of warfare. Furthermore, in their quest to create the ships to be worthy of such a name their builders would know many failures in their quest for perfection. Little is known what happened thereafter other than the simple fact that the ship perished with all hands after excellent performance in battle. This became an odd pattern, as the double-edged blade of a blessing turned into both fortune and curse, although the modern church would assure you that it is all superstition and misfortune. Easterners would point out bad karma for trying to rise above mortal means, but most agree that it was due to human failure. Every once in a while a commander would develop the gall to test the old forsaken legend or brand his ship with the legendary title, often with mixed results as men continued to test fate in what's that only men can.
The whole ordeal was a major source of concern within the Church as the Pope and his cardinals struggled to argue against such a Pagan, and ill-fated name. Unfortunately due to the rapid modernization of the Empire and the growth of "common sense" this was easily avoided by the general public and the Admiralty. It was a truly impressive name after all.
An ironclad battleship bearing the name from the Bolish War in 1865 was reported to have sunk two Aritannian warships in the Battle of Gragów Bay, only to sink as her ram detached itself upon striking the ship's second victim. This clear failure was ignored, and the odd circumstances that allowed the Lorraini ship Gloiréan to ironically become the source of attention the world over for the next half-century. Needless to say that the loss of life was catastrophic. When the Church took over all religious matters before the Third Troytonian Empire fell, and all things pagan literally vanished, no ship rceived the name for three hundred years until in 1735 a fifth rate frigate received the title. This very ship went on to have a respectable and famed fifty-year service as a pirate hunter, traveling across the world. It is speculated today that her own high casualties were owed to the inferior South Emmerian wood (obtained in the old Imperial colony on the continent) utilized in her construction that caused excessive splintering upon cannonball impact.
In 1922 a naval enthusiast named Georges Tyrell proposed a large cruiser design that could field aircraft, but match the firepower of the largest cruisers afloat. The Admiralty accepted his concept design with readiness, building and launching the Cervantes-class heavy cruisers with a spar deck between funnel and rear mast, allowing for the service of two naval aircraft. Appalled that the Marina Imperiale had not opted for his own (ambitious) design and unsatisfied with the Cervantes, Tyrell launched a political campaign, making extensive use of lobbying, against the Admiralty. After he won public and Senate support, the Admiralty conceded, and the large experimental heavy cruiser was ordered in mid-1923, and also winning the right to naming it (as well as direct the project) Tyrell had the ship infamously branded Ares in its original document, an act that received much criticism over the next few years, mostly referring to the renowned arrogance of the man who insisted upon its construction. Whether or not he knew of the name's unfortunate history is unknown. Although a section of the Admiralty scrambled to change the name to "Argus", the appeal was firmly squashed by the Imperial Senate. This was born the thirteenth ship of that unfortunate name, and the controversial story of a navy's most dreaded warship began.
The more watered down design called for a large cruiser that could field a squadron of naval scout, fighter or even attack planes but with the same firepower as the preceding Cervantes class, with five 9.2in guns forward of the superstructure. The Admiralty knew full well the required size of such a ship was truly great, and expressed their concerns, but the majority of the Senate had faith in Tyrell and his posse of designers, and they were looking for a response to the particularly large cruiser designs revealed in the the four massive Kūn class "battlecruisers" constructed by the Qin Imperium, and then later the Order of Achatius' Holmfirth (the famous "flagcruiser" designed to hunt and sink the Whispering Mare).The plan was to construct the prototype, then, depending on its success, order three other ships with the (if necessary) alterations. Tyrell upset this orderly process by making several interjections, calling for last-minute additions to the design. Among these were six quad torpedo launchers in turrets to be stored beneath the vessel's aircraft deck, and thus utilizing the "empty space". Later during actual construction he called for a new fast-firing 11in gun instead of the battle-tested 9.2in rifles used on the Cervantes. He argued that if they were going to make a powerful cruiser they should at least give it powerful armament. It is commonly believed that this action was an attempt to size-up the Achatian Holmfirth with her own six 10in guns. The proposed 11in guns were an entirely new concept to a navy focused on larger caliber and heavier rifles, and only after consulting Emmerian engineers about their own 11in guns did the long process of gun design begin, which denied the constructors to install and test the weapons on the ship until after launch.
The initial challenge was a great surprise. Perceptan dockyards pride themselves on their thoroughly modern facilities and world-class quality, and although using different engineers, the successfully designs of the previous Cervantes-class, were on hand for the construction of the experimental "aviation cruiser" and provided the perfect base design for Tyrell. Some claim it is because of the sheer size of the project and the requirements it was supposed to meet, the more limited dockyards of Valsyrion, the inexperienced designers that Tyrell had roped in, or (according to the ship's masterminds) the shoddy workmanship was to blame on the projects eventual outcome.
Work began in earnest, with the ambitious design quickly being passed through the multiple inspections without incident before being laid down, and oddly being recommend as "a fine display of naval engineering" by on of the inspectors. Despite this, several members of the Admiralty who inspected the plans expressed deep concerns stating that the design had not been altered enough from the Cervantes to account for the vast extra tonnage of the ship. Tyrell and the designing committee successfully suppressed this, assuring the Admiralty that the ship would not cause issues, but would instead completely outclass the Cervantes. Tyrell publicly boasted that he would "show them a thing or two about ship building". The general public loved him for daring to challenge the Imperial Navy. But the initial confidence of her designers dissipated almost immediately, as concerns presented themselves when the workers encountered extreme difficulty in working with the hull. A multitude of completely unexplainable accidents claimed the hands, limbs and lives of several men as the project slowed down, until renewed pressure from the Admiralty sped it up again. The working class of Valsyrion rose in a general strike after a section of the hull literally fell off, and claimed the lives of two men and the leg of a third. The strike called for more extensive safety measures, which the Navy was fast to accept. From there on construction continued more slowly and carefully, but half-way through construction the entire forward section of the long hull came close to buckling in on itself. After the fault was discovered and attributed to worker's fault rather than design deficiency, the plans were edited, calling for stronger reinforcement. When first tested in a water-filled drydock the hull rolled dangerously in the ocean winds blowing inland. This severe instability was completely unacceptable, so the hull was made deeper, with increased torpedo bulges.
Despite the growing concern of Admiralty and Senate officials, Tyrell used his political influence to ensure the project received the extra funding it needed. Several senior Navy engineers voiced concerns that the completed ship might not even be able to sustain an artillery or torpedo hit without capsizing, a warning ridiculed by Tyrell, but quietly heeded nonetheless.
After this revelation the designers realized, with great alarm, that the increasingly demanding requirements to stay afloat placed more and more pressure on the hull integrity. Imperial standards dictated structural integrity to be good, but even though keeping the same strong design of the Cervantes the pressure being placed on the hull by armour and newly-planned armament was disproportionate, delaying construction by an extra month as the engineers increased the strength of almost every aspect of the ship they could lay their hands on, as well as raising the armour belt and enlarging the hull so that the vessel's protection would not become submerged once the rest of the ship was added.
The enormous (and gradually increasing) weight of the ship necessitated more boilers than the previous Cervantes to retain the same required speed of 35 knots. As the rear of the ship was occupied by the spar (aircraft) deck much of the unused space just below decks was utilized for the increased engine block. A design oversight was that the schematics did not factor in another set of funnels to disperse the smoke generated from the extra engines. A large, elaborate (and heavy) series of complex trunks spanning the ships middle interior were required to issue the excess smoke through the same two fused funnels of the Cervantes. As a result, the entire midsection of the ship was evenly heated to uncomfortable levels, and extreme pressure was forced on the funnels and smoke trunks. The Perceptan doctrine for crew comfort called for an air conditioning system to help offset the issue. This massive system, however, put strain on the ships electric generators, which could only allow the unreliable air conditioning to be activated when the ship was well out of battle space.
Tyrell found the single four 5.5in mounts on the Cervantes unfavorable for his ships secondary armament. He had the plans augmented by seven more of the dual-purpose weapons, including four in the middle of the artillery deck. After much debate the number was decreased by two, and the extra guns in the forward part of the ship were sunken into the deck in odd casemates that allowed their ~80 degrees of gun elevation, and stay out of the way of the main battery, but in rough seas these guns would be near useless, and their crews only saved from period by the standardized turrets of the Marina Imperiale's smaller armaments.
Another problem was armour. The ship's basic design parameters required that it be able to exchange fire with other large cruisers, and some exceptional cases: ships armed with 9.2 and 10 inch guns. It would also be required to operate with the other cruisers of the fleet. Being bigger and possibly slower than the other heavy cruisers in the fleet, as well as distinctly recognizable, meant that Ares would draw focused enemy attention in battle. Therefore the armour needed to be thick enough to survive under heavy fire, and the ship be ready to receive the shots that penetrated. Once again, Tyrell resolved the issue by decreeing a minimum armour belt of six inches thick. The Treasury, which had been forced into the ruinously expensive and (God forbid) budget-exceeding project, baulked, and the Admiralty displayed new alarm, but Tyrell's Senate partners squashed the arguments of both.
When still incomplete, the ship was finally launched, and having gone over its original budget by leaps and bounds, the Admiralty was desperate to extract good results from their investment. Her heavy armament of five 11in guns was finally installed, as well as a sizable secondary armament and the empty torpedo tubes beneath the spar deck, both products of a paranoid chief engineer. The tests ensued slowly and cautiously, as fault after fault was revealed. But after the crew began moaning about the heat, Tyrell (who was on board) ordered the tests be sped up, combining several activities together, perhaps in the hope that the might of his ship would out-shadow the crew's concerns in the test captain's report. Despite the strong build of the cruiser her main guns in their well-armoured turrets rotated appallingly slowly despite their well-mechanized mounts, and when she fired her first test salvo the ship rocked violently in the calm sea, and analysis revealed that her structure had not dealt with the stress well. Half the light bulbs in the forward section had been obliterated, and the screaming of metal haunts her test crewmen to this day. It is commonly acknowledged that too many of the powerful 11in rifles had been shoved into too small a space, and the design simply did not cater for the larger guns. In fact, the schematics for the turret section had hardly changed at all from the first design draft. Despite all the effort of his builders (ships of the name inherited the dubious title of masculinity by suspicious seamen), the Ares was not strong enough to handle the recoil of a full salvo of his own main guns, but by then it was far too late to turn back, and the ever-asserting Georges Tyrell refused to allow "his" ship to be made any weaker. Too much money had been invested in the design of the guns them she's, then the ammunition produced to supply them. Even after considerable refit, the guns are preferred to be fired in succession and not all at once as to not risk stressing the structure, or break things. But the worst of the issues was yet to follow. The new and massive number of boilers (30!) was deemed adequate to propel the sleek-hulled ship to speeds in excess of 35 knots, record speeds for a cruiser, especially one of her size. But as soon as the captain, under the influence of Tyrell, tried to push to 35 knots the engines started to make strange noises that baffled their engineers, and the immense pressure placed on the smoke trunks worsened audibly. At 36 the ungodly wail of tortured steel was heard throughout the ship, deafening and disorientating their servicers. Before they could shut the engines down, it reached 37 knots. Something must have caught fire or burst, just as the ships smoke trunks did, flooding the the engine room with smoke and fire. The ship's core became an inferno, the funnels roared flame as the explosion rocked the ship. Once returning to his feet, the acting captain ordered the engines cut. A minute later, the engines screeched to a halt. Dead. The dispersion of the smoke had already been a problem, flooding the rear mast and the gun director, but now it, and exposed sailors, had been burnt by the flame.
When dragged back into port, the elderly captain immediately resigned, and the full investigation began. All the men in the boiler rooms had been roasted alive, and the few who escaped bore horrid burns. Several other men sustained more minor injuries, the result of the ships violent pitches as he struggled to remain afloat.
At this point the Admiralty took matters into their own hands. A committee, to which Tyrell was not invited, was held to determine the ships fate. The intensive debate concluded with the obvious fact: the ship was too great an investment to scrap, especially since she was still-theoretically- in serviceable order, and would have been the first Imperial ship ever launched to not receive the honours of commission. Furthermore, Tyrell had applied to the general public for far too many loans to be just let slip, and the shadow of an unhappy Emperor loomed behind them all. Many of the ships original designers successfully washed their hands of the mess when the Navy's elite designers entered in an attempt to save the cruiser, but Tyrell continued to lobby in favour of having the project returned to him.
The final length of her construction resulted in further internal strengthening to absurd levels as every part of the ship received extra reinforcement, often in terms of thin armour. Extreme new safety measure that insisted upon the water-tightening and fireproofing of every single one of the hundreds of compartments on board to battleship levels of damage control. Her crew was increased in number to better enable damage control ability during battle, with total disregard for the already cramped conditions on board. Her rear mast was tilted back even further than it was before in an attempt to avoid the pillar of smoke generated by the funnels, and thus preserve the rear gun director, requiring extra reinforcement so that it didn't topple over, and it now rests on a new rear structure. The stresses of the design and limited room saw little space for lifeboats. The standard number was forced upon the ship, resulting in some of the boats getting in the way of deck teams. The shear expense of the warship and harsher Admiralty budgeting left very little funds donated to crew comfortability. The hull was deepened and the fuel storage cells enlarged in a bid to increase stability and torpedo protection, and his keels were increased in size. The boilers were separated into fifteen compartments, each separated by a bulkhead, and each with two boilers. In the event of flooding, fire, or some other disaster, the watertight bulkheads would keep the rest of the ships powerplant safe from harm.
Months later and the now world-infamous ship left drydock, complete at last. Many deficiencies of the original design have been dealt with, including the complete replacement of the vessel's powerplant and protection. But many more problems with the ship remain unsolved. Holes in the deck armour were discovered where spaces made for hatches were simply planked over by the deck. These had to have steel squares welded into place, instead of replacing the whole deck armour. And the unreasonably thick (6in) armour belt that became submerged when fully loaded had to be replaced with a much lighter belt. The electric generators were of an inferior model supplied by a personal friend of one of the designers, and was replaced by the standard kinetic model used by the navy. Extravagant gilding and art work was found around the ship's officer quarters, and an expensive main admiral's suite, while the facility for the general crew were found lacking. Needless to say, the unfortunate ship was mercilessly stripped bare. With the budget being far exceeded, the lavish attire of the central rooms was sold to help cover the cost, while the ship was equipped with cheap new internal furnishing that barely relieves the stress of living on board the monster. The ammunition rooms had never been altered from the Cervantes design, so that while the Admiralty completely remodeled the interior of the forward hull, improved interior protection was added around the magazines. The ship still suffers unpleasant roll whenever struck by torpedo or larger shells, and remains immensely uncomfortable, difficult and expensive to operate. The crew was selected from the worst, and the roughest of the navy's roster, often as punishment, but all Imperial sailors fear his name when the rosters change. In addition, the thin aircraft deck was replaced by an armoured one, and a hangar beneath that was contemplated with mechanical lifts to the deck. The plan was abandoned to help cut costs, and to avoid the risk of further weight. Besides, the spar deck housed the ships formidable torpedo armament, now reduced to four quad launchers. The aircraft deck has proven awkward to operate with the full complement of six aircraft, but the two extra cranes and catapults were added to deal with the issue. The only way to increase the size of the deck by then was an expensive modification to the hull, hardly an option.
Such a difficult ship was entrusted to Captain Junius Pearson, who displayed his ability when commanding the armoured cruisers Achilles and Kalexa against the Whispering Mare. It is hoped that the presence of such a skilled and determined commander could tame such a ship and crew. He continues to valiantly attempts to control the monster, often spending his own money in an attempt to improve the lives of his crew.
The extra weight resulted in the reduction of the top "safe" speed, lowering it from 34/35 to just 33 knots despite the very large number of new boilers.
Eventually though, one naval inspector had this to say about the ship:
"But for all his evils and faults, the blasted tub does have its saving graces. The first and foremost being that it is without doubt the strongest-built cruiser in the world, and one of the toughest warships ever launched. I believe that this is because of the constant attention the ship has warranted, and the vast amount of tonnage devoted to armour that has always seemed to be increasing. It has certainly ensured that the ship has received the best of everything the navy had to supply in order to increase the usefulness of the vessel. Second is that this cruiser remains a notably powerful warship. A heavier main battery than any other cruiser afloat, as well as six aircraft for scout and strike purposes makes for a highly impressive, if unusual, loadout. The massive fuel cells and storage space supplied by the equally large torpedo bulges allows for impressive range and endurance. And despite everything thrown at it in the more extensive than usual combat tests, the ship steadfastly refuses to take significant damage, or sink, no matter how much it throws the crew around. But don't get me wrong; once a potato, always a potato"
The meaning of that final phrase has long since been lost to time, but Ares would still cause a lot of pain during the remainder of his career, and destined for a special mention in the history books.
Original Displacement: 13,300 tons standard, 15,700 tons full load
Final Displacement: 16,500 tons standard, 19,500 tons full load
Propulsion: 30 oil boilers, geared steam turbines, 4 shafts
Top Speed: 33 knots (unless you have a death wish)
Range: (using 20/30 boilers) 18,500 kilometers at 14 knots
Armament: 5 x 11in guns, 9 x 5.5in guns, 6 x dual 37mm turrets, 20 x 25mm autocannons, 4 x quad 24in torpedo turrets
Armour: 4-5in belt, 1.5in deck, 3in aircraft deck, 3in (over vital compartments), 4in barbettes and magazine protection, 3in on turrets, 3-4in bulkheads, 6in conning tower, 0.5-2in internal strengthening.
Aircraft: 6
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Pros:
-Structural integrity is of legend
-Heavy armament
-Long range endurance
-Excellent armour for a cruiser
-Large complement of aircraft
-Excellent damage control
Cons:
-Many technical issues
-Main battery stresses
-Uncomfortable to operate
-Stability issues
-Cramped
-Too slow to operate with fast cruisers
-Slow turret traverse speed
-Deathtrap is unsafe
-Large turning circle
-Crew hates the ship
-Ship hates the crew
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Builder's Comments:
Forgive me for adding you all, but this build is a personal favourite of mine and I'd like to have some input on it. I love how the build itself turned out, and I'm not sure when I'll bring myself to dismantle it. The concept arose when I felt like doing something interesting- make an aviation cruiser like IJN Tone. Of course, things got a bit carrier away. What started off as a ship planned to have four 9.2" guns evolved when I couldn't find a black technic beam intermediate between the froward piece on this ship and that on Cervantes. I had the extra space, so I went ahead. Soon the shear promise of the fun to be had outran the test project of mine, creating a truly horrifying vessel.
I ended up making this ghoul of a ship. Powerful, without a doubt, but with so many issues it's hardly the worth the firepower. The story was inspired by the sorry tale of the HMS Captain. Thanks goes to Awe to sharing the pdf "World's Worst Warships" with me.
This station was on the former Blaydon to Consett route. Route was opened on 2-12-1867 and was closed 11-11-1963. The track was lifted the following year.
This view was taken looking West.
The station is also the site of an unsolved murder in 1911. The body of the stationmaster was found one early morning at the base of the steps on the opposite platform in this image.He had been shot.
His murderer was never found.
This photo was taken exactly 100 years later, so I reckon its a safe assumption his murderer got away with it.
The handrails/ fencing are original.
.
THE OUTSIDER (CHAPTER TWO)
REMEMBERENCE .
.
Eagle point, and it feels to me like my skin is baking beneath a hundred and twenty degrees or more as my eyes sting with sweat so bad it's all I can do to keep'em open, and the sand scalds my cowering flesh. A little past midday from the position of that big ole sun that rests due South like a Goddess in the ocean blue sky and what little shadow there is to be found points due North, affordin' me Mother nature's own compass and clock. A dung beetle rises outta the sand and uses it's antenna to search out a food source with senses way in excess of anything I can muster by comparison. This worthless carcass, these puny limbs ain't a match for none of the creatures who's lives inhabit this beautiful and unforgiving territory, and in truth the turkey buzzards circle overhead just awaiting my demise so they can dine on my still warm to the touch bones. A life in the wilderness teaches a man a trick or two, and if push comes to shove I can survive longer than the average towny, on little more'n than basic rations and a thimble full'a water. Grey wolf, God rest his sweet soul, taught me how to survive without food for days, the art of firestartin' and how to build shelter from the elements as the desert heats up to boiling point and cools down enough to kill you through hypothermia. Me, I ain't plannin' on dying just yet.
Dry enough to turn what little spit you can muster to dust on the orange canyon rock as the heat strips the energy from your bones and your head turns light and vague, there are moments of delirium amidst the clarity of thought as I swear I see things up ahead in the heat haze that only exist in the confines of my foolish mind. The heat can do that to a man, along with exhaustion and my ass has been in the saddle for pretty much most of my life I guess. I dream of rest and peace, but sometimes what a man dreams of remains exactly that throughout the entire course of his days on this Earth. The Colorado river flows way down below me and it's there I must head to lose my tracks and water my horse. The heat'll kill a man in under an hour if he's foolish enough to try his hand outta the shade, and water is your only chance of survival here. The posse is more determined and headstrong than I'd given them credit for, covering miles at speed without rest, and now gaining on me unless I loosen the reins and make some progress. Five hundred dollars and a badly sketched likeness of me are all my life has come to, pinned unceremoniously to the jail doors in every two bit town for a fifty mile radius, as every roughneck with a pulse saddles up and pulls a rifle from the wall. My notoriety knows no bounds as I join the ranks of John Wesley Hardin, Black Bart, Robert Leroy Parker and the Wild bunch, though their stories carry more romance and their heads a higher bounty than my own.
Though the shame and fault for so much death and mayhem rests squarely on my shoulders, it wasn't how I'd imagined my life to turn out when I was no more'n a kid. I remember as a child, living back in Holy Springs, and watchin' with wide eyes and racing heart as the gunslingers stole in and and from our town, removing the wanted posters and setting out on personal quests for the glory and the thrill of the hunt. Lined faces, unshaven skin, dark eyes and hands covered in blood and callouses as they watered their steeds, and grabbed a whiskey or three before moving on the the next destination for whatever purpose they saw as temporary sanctuary. Loners, steely eyed killers wrapped in the façade of legality that law abiding citizens draped upon them through reverence, fear and cowardice. But through their violence a seed of light was sewn in young and impressionable minds as kids wanted to grow up to be them, and women swooned, wanting to be with'em. How I dreamed of their lifestyle as I played in the streets, dirty face and torn pants shooting imaginary pistols at Tommy Lee, my schoolmate and best friend aged seven. A tall lad for his age, muscular and strong, with a heart so pure and fists of steel, he looked out for me when the other kids picked on me in class, and beat the bullies down when I was cornered and cowering. The brother my ma never gave me except the one who died in childbirth an' I never got to see, Tommy an' I were inseparable back then.
His papa ruled like a tyrant with a leather belt and drunken vision from behind the walls in the towns saloon which he owned just like his daddy before him. Tommy was always covered with bruises and spouting excuses that nobody believed. There's only so many times that a strong kid can walk into a door handle you know. We all knew the truth. A punch bag for a father's frustrations living a sedentary existence instead of the romantic life of a gun slinger, his personal ambition now contented by a balding head and unsightly paunch, from sitting too long at the losing tables and pickling his liver with watered down whiskey and underhand deals. And when Tommy was found one September morning, on the outskirts of town, face down in the dust with a busted head and life punch and kicked straight outta him, it was only a matter of time before the Sheriff and his deputy's had the old man locked in jail and ready for trial. My daddy told me to keep away from old man lee, and not to go anywhere near the courthouse or jail when the trial began, resulting in his freedom when seven peers who were bought and paid for in his gainful employment, found him not guilty of the brutal crime. They blamed it on the Injuns who in truth had nothin' to do with day to day folk and town life, preferring instead to keep a low profile and the white man to his course of foolishness and self destruction. I was twelve years old and feelin'mighty lonely without my only friend in the world, when old man Lee turned up dead in his saloon bar, his skull smashed by a jagged whiskey bottle and the hilt of his own garter knife embedded so deep in his own throat that the blade poked clean through to the glorious daylight. The town never missed him none, in fact if truth be know it breathed a little easier with him gone, and cared little who the culprit was, though they never found out who dunnit. Nobody never suspected a twelve year old kid would be capable of such a vicious crime, and enough folk owed old man Lee dollars sufficient to let the death be recorded as suspicious and unsolved. I guess you could say that Tommy Lee's legacy was in teaching me his attributes of strength and stealth that have stood me well to this very day, but there ain't a day goes by when my mind don't start awanderin' to the times we had together.
Twelve years old with a lifetime of violence filling my young head, and notions to leave soon as I could hatch a decent enough plan of my own. I tended to Tommy Lee's grave like the dutiful friend I always was, in his debt for my own life, in his shadow even after death. Such notions don't amount to none to much right now as I press onwards to the valley. I'm thankful for the time to think, to clear my head and justify my life, though I'd be a mite happier if the thinking were to end and be replaced right now by the vision of my tormentors and the chance for deed over words.
Down by the river I fill my faithful canteens and let Wa Ka Liva drink as much as he needs of the murky brown water that swirls with muddy sediment from it's journey through the Canyon and soothes our parched skins. As soon as the water touches my face it has all but vanished, evaporating away faster than this fading gunslingers hopes and dreams, such is the intensity of this damn heat. Above me in the sky as I raise my right hand and blot out the glare from the golden sun, my eyes making out the silhouettes of a host of predators circling with anticipation. Another animal has fallen somewhere to the desert heat, and I'm hoping I ain't gonna be next in line. Watered and rested, I remount with a weary-some thud and we head off towards the cover of the hills with about a half a day on the posse behind us.
All the while, visions of my sweet Elizabeth fill my mind like mirages on the desert horizon. The voice of reason in my head telling me to halt my progress and walk away from this fight that I can never win. She always did see the good in everything and everyone, the one woman who ever gave me a second chance when perhaps I did not deserve such charity from another living soul after my history of bloodshed and violence by the knife and gun. But she loved me, how she did. A man could not ask for more in life, nor expect to keep a hold of such an angels touch nor warmth of feeling. And I ain't none too proud of the ingratitude of my failings neither as she paid the price for loving a man with a past such as mine with her own life. Have you ever loved someone so much that you would lay down your life in exchange for their safe keeping, someone who affects you so deeply that you can no longer think straight nor act rational? If you have then you will understand why I must complete my quest and right what's wrong. One day we shall be reunited, no matter how briefly as our spirits cross for one last embrace before we move on to our respective resting places, she in Heaven where the angels watch over mankind with eternal love, and me to the fiery pits of hell where penance I shall endure for the deeds of my worthless life.
Wa Ka Liva's nose twitches and he senses water in the air. His stride increases, fetlocks powerful and strong walking with a degree more urgency as both of us anticipate the cool, fresh feeling of liquid cleansing our flesh and soothing dry throats. I've a mind to go huntin' and bag us a desert critter for supper, and then once more we'll be on our way, as our pursuers dismount and rest up for the night under a sky full of stars. Shall I lie to you and pretend that a part of me doesn't live for the thrill of the chase, that I don't function at my best when adrenalin courses through my veins and a gun fills my hand? Shall I claim barefaced that the smell of gunpowder freshly spent and the rhythmic dance of dying flesh don't awaken the beast within me? In the years that I was loved by my kin, I was content enough to live a life of absolution, following the teachings of Grey wolf and his ancient beliefs but every morning when I looked myself in the mirror as I placed cold steel to stubbled flesh, my boys pulling at my shirt tails and Elizabeth scolding them for their rowdy ways, was I merely living a lie? Can you tame a scorpion to perform house tricks and never fear the day that the inner beast rebels and he stings you in the ass? Can you clip an Eagle's wings and expect him not to dream of taking to the sky again to live the life he loved so once?
I'm a killer plain and simple, and it's time to end my story in the only way a man like me knows how. When a man lives by the gun and the light of the moon, he comes to realize that that's also the way he'll see out his short existence. I never hungered after dyin' old and scrawny none, so I'll take what's coming and pay my dues. They never told me life would be simple, pissing and screaming as I entered this world, and yet a part of me never expected things to be so hard.
.
.
Written December 31st 2009/Rewritten April 5th 2011
Photograph taken on September 24th 2008 at Eagle point on the West rim of the Grand Canyon. Where the rock drops you can see the two 'wings' with the eagles head in the centre.
NIKON D300 50mm 1/250s f/8.0 iso200
Nikkor AF-S 18-135mm f/3.5-6.3G ED IF. UV filter
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.
Lord Peter Views the Body
first published in 1928, was the first collection of short stories about Lord Peter Wimsey by Dorothy L. Sayers. All of them were included in later complete collections, although some of these early works are generally considered to be below par.
Contents[edit]
"The Abominable History of the Man with Copper Fingers": An artist's jealous nature leads to an investigation of his mistress' disappearance.
"The Entertaining Episode of the Article in Question": A grammatical mistake in French unmasks a clever criminal.
"The Fascinating Problem of Uncle Meleager's Will": The disposal of a dead man's fortune depends on his penchant for cross-word puzzles.
"The Fantastic Horror of the Cat in the Bag": A high-speed chase and a lost bag converge with a gruesome discovery.
"The Unprincipled Affair of the Practical Joker": A lady pleads for Lord Peter's help in retrieving a valuable necklace, and more importantly, a portrait with an indiscreet inscription.
"The Undignified Melodrama of the Bone of Contention": Lord Peter, visiting friends in the country, sees a ghostly carriage, hears rumors of an odd will, and deduces that foul play is afoot.
"The Vindictive Story of the Footsteps That Ran": Lord Peter deduces the whereabouts of a cleverly hidden murder weapon.
"The Bibulous Business of a Matter of Taste": Lord Peter's famous palate is the deciding factor in acquiring wartime intelligence.
"The Learned Adventure of the Dragon's Head": Viscount St. George appears as a boy as Lord Peter uses clues from a rare book to find a treasure.
"The Piscatorial Farce of the Stolen Stomach": Involving several Scotsmen, a digestive organ, and a handful of diamonds.
"The Unsolved Puzzle of the Man with No Face": Which ends with Wimsey letting a murderer go free, at least partially because he is a good painter.
"The Adventurous Exploit of the Cave of Ali Baba": Lord Peter infiltrates a den of ruthless thieves; notable for unusual technology.
Lord Peter Wimsey stories by Dorothy L. Sayers
Campion is a television show made by the BBC, adapting the Albert Campion mystery novels written by Margery Allingham. Two series were made, in 1989 and 1990, starring Peter Davison as Campion, Brian Glover as his manservant Magersfontein Lugg and Andrew Burt as his policeman friend Stanislaus Oates.
A total of eight novels were adapted, four in each series, each of which was originally broadcast as two separate hour-long episodes. Peter Davison sang the title music for the first series himself; in the second series, it was replaced with an instrumental version.
Series 1 - 1989[edit]
1."Look to the Lady" A mystery surrounding an ancient chalice. Features Gordon Jackson as Professor Cairey. Original air dates 22 and 29 January 1989.
Book first published in 1931.
2."Police at the Funeral" The death of a member of a wealthy family. Features Timothy West as Uncle William Faraday. Original air dates 5 and 12 February 1989.
Book first published in 1931.
3."The Case of the Late Pig" A man appears to have died twice. Features Michael Gough as Mr Hayhoe. Original air dates 19 and 26 February 1989.
Book first published in 1937.
4."Death of a Ghost" A painter's legacy leads to murder. Features Jean Anderson as Belle Lafcadio and Carole Ruggier as Rosa. Original air dates 5 and 12 March 1989.
Book first published in 1934.
Series 2 - 1990[edit]
1."Sweet Danger" The ownership of a tiny kingdom leads to a deadly treasure hunt. Features Lysette Anthony as Amanda Fitton and David Haig as Guffy Randall. Original air dates 12 and 19 January 1990.
Book first published in 1933.
2."Dancers in Mourning" A series of pranks, and worse, upset a leading theatre star and his bizarre household. Features Ian Ogilvy as Jimmy Sutane and Pippa Guard as Linda Sutane. Original air dates 9 and 16 February 1990.
Book first published in 1937.
3."Flowers for the Judge" Murder visits a respectable London publishing house. Features Robert Lang as John Barnabas and Barrie Ingham as Ritchie Barnabas. Original air dates 23 February and 2 March 1990.
Book first published in 1936.
4."Mystery Mile" Campion must protect the family of an American judge on the trail of a sinister crime boss. Original air dates 9 and 16 March 1990.
Book first published in 1930.
Car
A Lagonda 16/80 featured extensively in the series. The car used in the series is now kept in Germany
Starring
Peter Davison
Brian Glover
Andrew Burt
Country of origin
United Kingdom
An English oak stands sentinel atop Meon Hill, a couple of hundred feet above the Cotswolds village of Mickleton, Gloucestershire.
I last photographed this tree over nine months previously in spring of 2007 on a somewhat more pleasant day...
www.flickr.com/photos/36576534@N00/427516475/
...but the moody weather and threatening skies convinced me that it was worth another (long and cold) climb up the hill to capture it in winter as well. So, this must be my favourite tree then? Wow, I have a favourite tree? I'll be hugging the barky, leafy things next at this rate.
According to literary legend, this hill - formerly the site of a Neolithic fort - provided the inspiration for Tolkien's 'Weathertop' from The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It is also surrounded by many strange and spooky tales - it was supposedly created by the devil, attempting to destroy a nearby abbey, and is also reputedly haunted by the phantom hounds of the Celtic King Arawyn at night. Over the years, there have been several sightings of mysterious large black dogs in the area. However, its most notorious claim to fame is that it was the scene for a murder that took place on Valentine's Day in 1945, when a local farm worker was killed in a manner that suggested witchcraft was involved (presumably, there were a few empty bottles of black vodka scattered around the crime scene).
Local police, baffled, brought in the famous Inspector Fabian of the Yard (yes, he was a real person!), but the case remained unsolved, thanks in part to reticence to talk about the events by the local populace. However, just before leaving to return to Scotland Yard in London, Fabian apparently glimpsed a large black dog at the murder site...
Which just goes to show...don't mess with witches!
Taken on December 27, 2007.
A towering Netflix banner looms over Princes Street, heralding the arrival of Dept. Q, the Scandi-noir reboot with a twist — it’s now set and filmed in Edinburgh. The moody drama follows Detective Carl Mørck, relocated from Copenhagen to the Scottish capital, where he tackles the coldest of cold cases with trademark bluntness. He’s brash. He’s arrogant. And, as the ad cheekily warns… he’s English.
This localised adaptation of Jussi Adler-Olsen’s Danish crime novels brings the brooding grit of Nordic noir to the rain-slicked closes and Georgian shadows of Edinburgh. Keep an eye out — the ghosts of unsolved crimes might be closer than you think…
Queens Of The Stone Age ♫ (No One Knows)
Attention, automatic creative translation!
If someone more experienced than me should pass by here (the probability is very high in the second case, that someone will stop here and read it is not as likely :), I kindly ask for an opinion.
Some time ago, at the flea market I found a 60-meter Z winding machine, loaded. Having no idea what film it was, how long and in what conditions it was there, if someone had opened the reel and exposed the film to light, then:
-I tried to expose and develop a hypothetically black and white roll with a sensitivity of 100 ISO (but often doubling the exposure in case the film was very old and had lost sensitivity)
- I developed in HC110, dilution 1:63, 8min and: 30 sec at 27 °. In order not to waste money, a combination with expired chemicals seemed ideal to me, the main objective was to see if the film had not been exposed to light and in that case, find out what film it was, reading the writings printed by the manufacturer.
The little mystery, however, remained partially unsolved for me: as you can see in the photo above, I only found the wording "gevaert belgium safety film". Yes, ok, gevaert, but which film? :))
I am a great ignoramus on the subject, probably someone will know more just by looking at the negative film aspect.
------------------------------
Se dovesse passare da queste parti qualcuno più esperto di me (la probabilità è altissima nel secondo caso, che qualcuno si fermi qui e legga non è altrettanto probabile:), chiedo gentilmente un'opinione.
Tempo fa, al mercatino delle pulci ho trovato una bobinatrice Z da 60 metri, carica. Non avendo nessuna idea di che film si trattasse, da quanto tempo e in quali condizioni era lì, se qualcuno avesse aperto la bobinatrice e esposto la pellicola alla luce, quindi:
-Ho provato a esporre e sviluppare un rullo ipoteticamente bianco e nero e con una sensibilità di 100 iso (ma raddoppiando spesso l'esposizione nel caso la pellicola fosse molto vecchia e avesse perso sensibilità)
- Ho sviluppato in HC110, diluizione 1:63, 8min e:30 sec a 27°. Per non sprecare soldi un abbinamento con chimici scaduti mi è sembrato l'ideale, l'obiettivo principale era vedere se il film non era stato esposto alla luce e in quel caso, scoprire di che film si trattasse, leggendo le scritte stampate dal fabbricante.
Il piccolo mistero è rimasto però parzialmente insoluto per me: come vedete nella foto sopra, ho trovato solo la scritta "gevaert belgium safety film". Sì, ok, gevaert, ma quale pellicola? :))
Io son un grande ignorante in materia, probabilmente qualcuno saprà di più anche solo guardando l'aspetto della pellicola negativa.
Deep within the mystery of whom “le shaepard” may or may not have been lies this intriguing picture.
There is a photo that has made rounds on the internet for some time, without most knowing it’s true background. It came from a flood of old purged police files from around the country from cold cases that had been closed for so many years that no one living now would have any inkling or desire to continue an investigation.
The photo here is believed have been taken around 1912. In the foreground is the blurred image of a man which may be the only photographic evidence of a mysterious jewel thief, and the clue to an unsolved series of mysterious jewel thefts, including the very evening and place where this photo was taken!
A well-known silent screen actress was attending the black tie affair, where this photograph was captured. She had gone while still wearing her gown and the $30,000 tiffany bracelet from the play that evening. She was publicizing the play (Pygmalion), as well as the bracelet, which had been on loan from a local jeweler to the production company.
Her memory was hazy about what had occurred; apparently she had been partying quite hard. She seemed to have had someone stepping on her gown, tripping her into the arms of a charming gentleman. Very debonair she said, with the most appealing foreign accent and tempting eyes. Shortly thereafter she discovered the Tiffany bracelet was no longer around her wrist.
Later both the man and her bracelet were found to have mysteriously vanished. From her description, it is believed that the man seen wearing a tux with his hand on his hip, could possibly have been the pickpocket. The police interviewed many people, and sent out flyers of this photo, with no one stepping forward with any further clues, sans one.
That clue came from a lady who had been in attendance at the very same event. She was not very forthcoming about what had happened, her husband had dragged her to the police station once word was out about the missing bracelet. It appears that she had lost and incredibly valuable necklace that evening, but had convinced her husband that it had been lost else ware. They had left soon after meeting the actress and receiving her autograph. At the time the actress still had possession of the dazzling bracelet. And by the time the actress had noticed it missing and sounded the alarm, the couple were at a night club. It was there that the lady had discovered her necklace was missing.
But it was after some hard questioning that she guardedly admitted to have danced several times with the gentleman from the photo, although she unconvincingly insisted that he had nothing to do with her missing necklace, that she was still wearing it at the night club. For some reason her husband was unable to collaborate that he had seen it on his wife at that time. Both appeared, according to the police statements, uncomfortable during the entire proceedings. As if they were not telling the whole truth. And to add more to the mystery within a mystery, two nights after this incident, at the same night club the lady insisted she had lost her necklace; there were reports of additional missing jewellery by female patrons!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The story goes that in 1835 Mr James Newlove lowered his young son Joshua into a hole in the ground that had appeared during the digging of a duck pond. Joshua emerged describing tunnels covered with shells. He had discovered the Shell Grotto, its walls decorated with strange symbols mosaiced in millions of shells. Is it an ancient pagan temple? A meeting place for some secret cult? Nobody can explain who built this amazing place, or why, but since its accidental discovery visitors from all over the world have been intrigued by the beautiful mosaic and the unsolved mystery.
Scottish Rite Cathedral, 150 North Madison Avenue, Pasadena, California. The Scottish Rite Cathedral in Pasadena was built in 1925 in the Zigzag Moderne style. The architects were Joseph J. Blick and W.C. Crowell. The building was dedicated at a ceremony on February 18, 1925 attended by approximately 1700 high-degree masons and their families. The steps of the Cathedral were the scene of a 1930s murder that remains unsolved to this day. Leonard Seiver, a prominent dentist and playboy in Pasadena, was gunned down near the Cathedral sphinxes. Despite an intensive investigation that included the interrogation of 700 young men in the area, no arrests were made and the case is still a mystery.
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):
The above depiction appeared on the cover of True Detective June 1953 Vol. 59 No. 2
The portrayal below did not.
*****
The Silken whisper of Flickering Desires
A Chronicle
Adapted from the Final Entry Entitled:
Their Regal Gambit
Subtitled:
While Sherlock Holmes vacationed
The first score had been made, now for the Coup de Grace! So far their little operation had gone as smooth as silk, or in this case, satin. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then Mollie would let her husband know that with the coast clear, freeing him to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping an eye on all evening. The one who was wearing the exquisite necklace of fiery flickering diamonds, just daring someone to expertly slip it away the throat of its unsuspecting owner.
And therein lay the rub, She happily thought….
As Mollie made her way down the quiet corridor to the gentlemen’s smoking lounge, she lovingly played through her mind the series of unfortunate ( or fortunate?) events that had led her and her husband to this place. It had all began with an innocent one named Tabitha…….
Mollies’ Flash back
They had first come across Tabitha at a resort casino deep in the Catskills. Mollie and her husband had been there about three days, scoping out the grounds, and its wealthy clientele. At the casino they both spotted Tabitha at the same time. She was seated at a baccarat table, really standing out in an elegant dress of gold and black striped silk and velvet Her well-toned body displayed numerous pieces of expensive jewelry. A fat little purse dangled, unheeded by her side. Tabitha had held Mollie’s attention mainly due to the strong resemblance she had to herself. Tabitha’s jewelry, a flashy diamond journey style necklace, matching earrings, wide diamond tennis bracelet, and multiple gem encrusted rings, had held Mollies pickpocket husbands’.
Mollie went on to the bar and watched as her husband waited for the seat next to Tabitha to become vacant. Then he sat, asking for chips, while unobtrusively eyeing Tabitha’s bracelet. He began striking up a conversation with Tabitha, finding her to be an easy mark. He soon learned from the chatty girl that she was a divorced, upper executive for a well-known digital arts company servicing the movie industry. It was during this conversation that Tabitha babbled about the upscale, invitation only(you know), black tie formal ball she would be attending in England the next month. Now, as her husband was keeping Tabitha occupied Mollie had walked by the pair, ‘tripping’ into her husband, who palmed off to her , the diamond bracelet which had been ever so subtly slipped from around the unwary Tabatha’s’ wrist. Walking away with the bracelet secured in her purse, Mollie made her way to their small bungalow. Her husband did not break in his conversation with Tabitha; a mark would seldom suspect a friendly person of stealing from her.
Later that evening, Mollie wore the pricy bracelet while mutually admiring it over a bottle of merlot with her husband. They discussed the high-class affair Tabitha had been bragging about. Wistfully, Mollie admitted it was a shame they had not received an invite. Her husband smiled, and pulled a thickly embossed and crested envelope from his pocket. Easily adopting a British accent, he said “The silly little twit was carrying this in her purse!” The envelope revealed a pair of invitations to the Princess’s Jubilee Royal Ball. As the pair continued to empty the bottle of fine merlot, what had started as speculation, turned towards reality, and soon plans had been laid.
As they lay in bed later that night, Mollie turned to her husband, just think about the jewels that will be worn at the English Ball, she shivered with the delightful thoughts. Do you remember the last time we were in England? Mollie looked at her husband slyly, you remember, the Wriggling Whelp Whispering Wisk! She stated teasingly. Mollie knew the quickest way to get her husband’s goat was coming up with silly phrases to describe his more outlandish endeavors. Such phrases like The Tingling Touch Ice Melt, The Slippery Slick Taffeta Pull, The Glossy Gowned Dangling Peel, or her personal favorite, The Ticklish Wedge Clam Dip, never failed to get a response. In this case the response was a brief pillow fight leading into a romantic interlude, ending up with them in bed as they reminisced about the last time they had “visited” England a few years back…..
It had proven a fairly profitable venture with the jewelry alone netting almost 100,000 pounds. It all had culminated quite nicely at one of the posh events they had crashed that final weekend. Their final score had come about from a rambunctious doe eyed Fourteen year old in a shiny dress who had been oblivious to the valuably delicious gold pendent studded with small rubies and emeralds that sparkled ever so invitingly as it swung from her throat. A pair of matching dangling earrings dripped from her ears as she has run around unminded by her elders. Mollie had indignantly stated to her husband that the antique trinkets were simply just too expensive for a child so squirminly young to be trusted with. Her husband then went about the task to prove his wife correct in her statement.
After talking a bit about the English Girls parents reaction to the unsolved disappearance of their daughters ultra-pricey pendent , Mollie came back to the present and asked if the lady in the maroon silk that her husband pointed out the previous evening would be wearing the same jewels to the dance tomorrow night? Or better her husband replied sleepily, good Mollie pronounced, I did like her emeralds.
In Merry Ole England
They had arrived in England several weeks before the Royal Ball and began the preparations.
In an irony of fate, the profit they had realized from poor Tabitha’s bracelet had paid for a large chunk of their little excursion. Keeping his accent, and adding a trim beard, Mollies husband looked radically different from the man Tabitha had encountered. During the weeks following their arrival, the pair had practiced like they always did before undertaking a new venture. But this time it was with a more daring edge, they quite simply could not afford being caught red handed in a foreign country. Mollie assumed her practice the role. That of the richly dressed, well jeweled quarry. Her husband would stalk and attempt to relieve her of a piece of her jewelry as she went about her business, shopping! The idea being that, If he was able to do so without being caught by an obviously aware Mollie, than he should have no problem at the Royal Ball. As it usually happened when they practiced in this manner, her husband did incredibly well. Mollie had had several pieces of jewelry vanish from her person during the week, without her noticing how or when.
The final night of practice Mollie decided to dress to kill. Looking quite devastating in a glossy gold halter and a long brown velvet skirt with gold stiletto heels clicking as she moved. A diamond heart pendant hung down from her neck, swaying provocatively out from between her breasts. A bracelet, similar to Tabitha’s purloined diamonds, was wrapped around her wrist.
She left their penthouse and made her way to the street outside. Some type of festival was going on as she waded through the crowded streets to the nightclub. Her rings sparkled as they kept rhythm with her swaying diamond waterfall earrings. Just daring her husband to make a move for any of them.
Mollie drank and danced the night away with no hide or hair of her husband until she returned late that evening to their apartment. She found him in the hot tub, smirking. She undressed and joined him. Okay, how did u do it she demanded? I felt nothing, no one bumped or brushed against me all evening that I was not aware of. He opened his fist, allowing her heart diamond pendant to dangle freely in front of her. A magician never reveals his tricks my little cat, he purred, as the pendant swayed in a sparkling arch.
Cat was short for “Cat Lady”, a moniker he had placed upon her when she had broken into a sleeping woman’s room and removed the jewels from her gold case, and even managed to slip off a ring she was wearing. The fact that she was passed out in a drunken stupor, still dressed in her long party gown, didn’t count , or so her husband teased.
You should have been a surgeon! , my dear, Mollie exclaimed with pride. Then she leaned towards him, her green eyes gleaming in earnest, time for a real practice run Mon Cherie, she said in dead seriousness. Then Her eyes opened wide, I got it she exclaimed, I’ll call it The Slinking Sneaky Shearing Snag she pronounced joyfully, getting a face full of water in reply to her effort. Okay Cat, let’s get down to business he retorted, I know just the affair. Mollie listened intensively as her Husband described their next plans, derived while eavesdropping on a couple of ladies shopping in a jewelers.
The next weekend (two weeks to the evening before the Royal Ball) Mollie found herself at a quaint upscale wedding reception held in the large gardens of a country church. She was attired in the same bewitching ensemble that she had been wearing on the final night of practice. Her only jewels were a recently acquired pair of sparkly cascading earrings set with emeralds and diamonds. The affair of the plump piqued peacock plucking she had mused while getting dressed. The only other exception was that the long fiery red hair she had inherited from her Irish namesake grandmother had been cut and dyed blond. Blue contacts had also been added to the disguise to hide her vivid green eyes.
They soon targeted an older jewel laden snob at the reception. An older lady , well jeweled, of the arrogant know it all, obey me totally type whom everyone tries to avoid. While Mollie engaged the mark in a mostly one sided conversation(the older ladies) the lady had become so deeply engrossed about talking about herself and her ties with royalty, that she never detected being relieved of a heirloom antique gold chain and jeweled pendent by Mollies husband who had approached her unnoticed from behind.
It was all Mollie could do no to bring attention to it by looking at the wickedly expensive piece as it was slipped up and away from the Dowager’s ruffled heavy satin blouse.
This time it was mollies turn to keep chatting as her husband headed to the door. He had almost made it when two youths ran into him as they scurried away from a rather sullen looking tween girl they had been teasing, and now were in possession of her purse. Mollie stole a look as she saw her husband topple onto the chasing girl. He managed to extracted himself from the girls long slinky gown that she had probably been forced into by an overly conceited mother. He apologized, and left the girl to go after her antagonizes. Later, when Mollie had caught up to him she teased him about his clumsiness. He just smiled, and pulled out from his vest pocket the most exquisitely matched pearls that the youth had been openly displaying from around her throat and wrist at the reception!
They were, most definitely, ready. The fated evening could not come soon enough. But it finally did.
They had had no problem with using the fancy invitations to gain entrance. Security was heavy, as expected, but with a very lax atmosphere. Mollie was wearing the salmon coloured gown she had had especially made for such occasions, her new blond hair style and the blue contacts. In a coup foray of sorts, Mollie wore the pearls that had been taken by her husband during his run in with the sullen girl at the wedding reception. Her husband was wearing his usual tux with a hand tied bowtie. His ruffled sleeves easily moved up and down along his wrists.
Mollie and her husband split up, each spending the first few hours mingling solo, and taking it all in as they thoroughly enjoyed the Ball and all its many stimulating attractions. It had gone smooth as silk. Spending the first few hours prowling while the guests liquored up Mollie scoping out exactly the right candidates. Dangling jewels with easy clasps were everywhere!, it was surprising how the best of jewel makers skimped on the clasps required to keep the expensive pieces in place. Clothing also made a difference. Silks and satins were quiet and slipped easily. Taffeta could be whispery, more of a challenge. Velvet could easily snag as a piece was being lifted. But these were the costliest of materials, and the wearers would logically be wearing the costlier of jewelry.
Mollie and her husband regrouped several hours later, unobtrusively under the pretense of dancing. Gently discussing their plans. They settled on three likely prospects amongst the almost three hundred present. The first was an older spinster type wearing a luxurious dress of embroidered navy silk and displaying jewelry studded with diamonds and sapphires. The second was a middle aged snotty blonde wearing a shamelessly low cut green silk taffeta gown (which Mollie secretly liked)wearing a thick gold bracelet studded with vulgarly large rubies surrounded by a sea of small sparkly diamonds. She was alone, and a heavy drinker. The third was a longshot. A lanky , flighty brunette wearing immensely valuable jewels of blindingly sparkling Diamonds. Her necklace alone was in the upper hundred thousand range, with a clasp that was one of the easiest to coax open. The only problem was that she came with an obviously newlywed husband who doted on her every move. Both were heavy drinkers, and if he would only leave his wife’s side for, say about fifteen minutes, the necklace would be theirs!
They had decided that any one of the three would produce results worth a king’s ransom, appropriately enough, all things considered. The plan was for her husband to take his time selecting the easiest jewel to acquire from amongst the ones the three marks were displaying , make his move, and pass it off to Mollie who would leave forthwith, while her husband stayed a little while longer to make sure everything remained calm before making his exit stage right via the hallway.
As Mollie went to her station, she saw the Blue silken lady, along with her sapphires and diamonds, leaving with a rather unsavory looking male, eyeing her with a look Mollie knew all too well. Mollie decided to follow them, thinking to herself that some women are just prone to being victimized. Good luck with that one Mollie thought unkindly, as she stole one last look at the ladies glistening sapphires, hope he leaves her with something she sarcastically wished wickedly to the couple’s backside as they went out the exit at the end of the hall. One down and out she thought. Then she spied the husband of the newlywed pair heading down the hall towards her with an older, grey bearded man. Getting close she heard them talking about the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge. Mollie decided to give her husband a signal, but when she found him he was already in the arms of the blond. Molly immediately noticed the absence of the jeweled bracelet from his partners’ wrist. She went back to her table. Immediately she was set upon by some drunken snob asking her to dance. She allowed herself to be taken up into his arms. Spending a few unenchanting minutes with Mr. two left feet, before her husband tapped him on the shoulder cutting in. They danced, Mollie placing a hand into his pocket and feeling something cold and metal wrapped her hand around it. Looking him in the eyes she told him about the now unguarded bride, as she palmed the willowy blonde’s bracelet. They decided to go for it, and as the music ended, Mollie made her way to the hall, where she secreted the blondes bracelet safely away
One down, one more to go! An exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be nimbly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then to let her husband know that with the coast clear, he was free to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping a drooling eye on all evening. The one wearing the exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be so expertly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer.
She was able to see the groom in windowed room, the husband and his friend were smoking a pair of long cigars and drinking brandy in large glass snifters. Mollie passed unnoticed as she mad e her way to the ladies powder room. He was still there, only halfway through a long stogie as she passed again on her way back. Neither time was she observed. Mollie mad her way back to the Ballroom. She sat down at one side of the room, once again allowing the sights of so many bejeweled women to soak in. Her husband was dancing with a lady in a flowing red ball gown, jewels sparkling in abundance, not aware of the danger so close at hand, nor that even with her husband and his particular skill set so close to them, that at that moment nothing could be safer from his fingertips. Finally she caught her husband’s eye. Mollie innocently rubbed a finger along the side of her nose, a subtle signal that it was safe for him to precede.
Mollie was now uncharacteristically having butterflies in her stomach; it was a huge gamble, trying to get away with a pair of thefts in this inhospitable atmosphere. She kept second guessing herself, Bird in hand she kept thinking. But the lure was too great, and it was with a heavy sigh of relief when Mollie saw her husband finally kiss the hand of the young bride after their dance. Mollie could see that she was no longer sporting the thin silver necklace and its row of at least two caret diamonds that had been encircling her throat with their rippling flashy brilliance all evening. Molly stayed put, not daring to leave until her husband had brushed by her in passing and made his way out the hallway to the exit. She waited for a long fifteen minutes, then curling her hand around the necklace that had been dropped into her lap as he had passed; she gained the safety of the hallway. Just in time. For coming down the hallway was none other than the lady in the long luxurious gown and now bare throats groom and his distinguished looking friend. She passed by them, feeling the men eyeing her with roving wolfish gazes. Then she passed them, and proceeded unhindered to once again enter the ladies’ powder room where the necklace soon joined with the Blondes bracelet in its hiding spot.. Than calmly Mollie left, walking past two security Bobbies, virtually unnoticed. The Groom had been absolutely ignorant to the fact that his young Bride’s ridiculously valuable necklace had walked right past him out the door.
Mollie did not let herself really breathe until she had gained the safety of the street. She allowed herself to imagine the commotion as the news of the missing jewels were circulated around the cavernous Ballroom. There would be a flurry of activity, flashes and sparkles as the women checked themselves reassuringly that they were still in possession of their trinkets. Mollie would have loved to have stayed and watched, but obviously could not do so. She rejoined her husband at their meeting place and they drove off. They made their way to Ireland where they spent a cautious week touring before leaving for the states.
Once the profit was realized from their haul that eventful evening, including obnoxious Dowagers the jeweled antique pendent, and was added in to the modest amount they had already accumulated from previous adventures, Mollie and her husband were able to retire to Ireland and live quite an unpretentious life together in a small stone manor in the woods.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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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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Cut B 1083
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The Une cabine d'essayage of Lady St-Claire Glen Cottage, Ruex De le Monte
In early 1900’s a European thief of unknown nationality,( never caught or identified), was popularly known as Le Shepared. He earned this moniker because of his adeptness with parting wealthy ladies from the expensive pieces of jewellery they were wearing (Akin to a Shepard trimming wool from lambs). He performed these subtle thefts while haunting the “Black Tie” Affairs, Balls, Receptions, and Soiree’s that promised to be attended by the very upper crust of Europe’s jewel laden females.
. He was also prime suspect in several spectacular jewel thefts that emptied out the glittering contents of several wealthy lady’s jewellery cases, unguarded while their mistress’s were attending the above mentioned fancy dressed functions. A few times, so the stories circulating at the time went, he would lift a piece of jewellery m’lady was wearing, and then knowing she was safely out of the picture, visit milady’s boudoir and pick it clean of anything sparkly and expensive. Such may have been the case with lady St-clair…
One of the most notorious unsolved cases evolved around Lord Perter St-Clair.
At the wedding of Lord St-Clair and his bride, one of the gifts was tickets for Le Chat Noir , for a Cabaret being presented there , put on by the Salon Les Arts Incohérents during the same period they would be at their lune de miel (Honeymoon).
While the couple was out one evening attending the play, the Lady St-Clair went to “powder her nose” during intermission. When the play resumes, she noticed the loss of her diamond bracelet that she remembers playing during the thrilling end of Act two, just before the curtains came up for intermission. The valuable bracelet was never recovered.
Meanwhile, a thief broke into the Lady’s Dressing room during the time the show was being presented, making off with several extremely valuable collections of family jewels.
But, was that all? Some say that an article of some importance to a certain secret society that Lord Perter was a major officer, was also taken that evening.
Coincidently, at the ball following the lavish St-Claire wedding, of the almost 400 guests in attendance at the Middle Temple Hall, Temple, London ,several wealthy female guests reported the loss of some extremely valuable jewelled bracelets, a jewelled ring , a navette diamond brioche, and a diamond necklace. Also, no one ever took credit for giving the unmarked gift of the tickets to attend the show being put on at the French café’ Le Chat Noir.
Was Le Shepared in attendance scoping out Lady St-Claire’s Jewels? Did he aslo take the time to collect a few “trifles” from a few of the Ladies’ in attendance? Did he then follow the newlyweds to France, to the play, to Mademoiselles boudoir?
Quand le chat n'est pas là, les souris dansent.
(translation: While the cat's away the mice will play.)
Il ne faut pas réveiller le chat qui dort.
translation: Let sleeping dogs lie.
Vous ne trouvez pas le Saint-Graal , c’est le Saint-Graaal qui vous trouve.
(You do not find the grail, the grail finds you)
All
Props & Stage courtesy of Chatwick University Theatre
Story
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.
********************************************************************** **********
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
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...
Nessie likes to play hide and go seek...so far we've always found her....
subtitled "An Unsolved American Mystery", about a series of murders on Long Island of self employed prostitutes advertising online... many insights into our culture and law enforcement in this country...
This is a painting of a woman who had a amazing voice one of my favorites her name was
Mia Katherine Zapata (August 25, 1965 – July 7, 1993) was the lead singer for the Seattle punk band The Gits.The Gits were actually a punk band, but they are often incorrectly classified as grunge (due to their connection with Seattle grunge bands Nirvana and Soundgarden) or as part of the riot grrrl movement. It’s true that the horrible circumstances of Mia Zapata’s death were exactly the kind of thing that riot grrrl bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile were writing about, and seemed to drive home the grisly reality of violence against women- that even punk women and riot grrrls were not impervious to sexual violence, that it is a serious problem that needs addressing. (The non-profit Home Alive was founded by members of the Seattle music community in memory of Mia Zapata.)
Mia Zapata’s murder remained an unsolved mystery for ten years, until a DNA profile was able to be matched from a saliva sample on her body. The saliva was traced to a fisherman who had been living in Seattle at the time of the murder and had a history of convictions for violence against women. The unanimous guilty verdict that put him in prison for more than 36 years was not only a major breakthrough for Mia’s family and friends, but it was legally significant as well- it was one of the first incidences of DNA evidence being instrumental in a conviction.
Vampire crypt
Set in a silent hill of Erie Cemetery, one mausoleum's stonework is stained black. Some might call it oxidation, a natural process. Others see it as an omen of its terrible secrets.
This is the only mausoleum in the 14 City block cemetery that is set into a hill. There is no telling how large the crypt actually is.
There is no writing of any kind. No name or dates adorn the Mausoleum. Only a rather odd carving above the door. Above the gated door is a carved symbol that some claim looks like a "V" with wings while others see a flower with two leaves.
"It could be Satan. It could be witchcraft. It could be that vampires live inside,"
Little is known about the mausoleum -- the only one in the cemetery to have so few documented records. Even though Erie is a public cemetery, whose records are open to the public. The records for this mausoleum are not.
Legend has it that the crypt was broken into and looted at least once. It's also rumored that the burglar soon suffered a horrible fate. Its doors are now gated and locked.
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 300mm