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British postcard in the Picturegoer series, London, no 707 H. Photo: Universal.
British actor Boris Karloff (1887-1969) is one of the true icons of the Horror cinema. He portrayed Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (1931), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), and Son of Frankenstein (1939), which resulted in his immense popularity. In the following decades, he worked in countless Horror films, but also in other genres, both in Europe and Hollywood.
Boris Karloff was born William Henry Pratt in 1887 in London, England. Pratt himself stated that he was born in Dulwich, which is nearby in London. His parents were Edward John Pratt, Jr. and his third wife Eliza Sarah Millard. ‘Billy’ never knew his father. Edward Pratt had worked for the Indian Salt Revenue Service and had virtually abandoned his family in far-off England. Edward died when his son was still an infant and so Billy was raised by his mother. He was the youngest of nine children, and following his mother's death was brought up by his elder brothers and sisters. As a child, Billy performed each Christmas in plays staged by St. Mary Magdalene's Church. His first role was that of The Demon King in the pantomime Cinderella. Billy was bow-legged, had a lisp, and stuttered. He conquered his stutter, but not his lisp, which was noticeable throughout his career in the film industry. After his education at private schools, he attended King's College London where he took studies aimed at a career with the British Government's Consular Service. However, in 1909, the 22-year-old left university without graduating and sailed from Liverpool to Canada, where he worked as a farm labourer and did various odd itinerant jobs. In Canada, he began appearing in theatrical performances and chose the stage name Boris Karloff. Later, he claimed he chose ‘Boris’ because it sounded foreign and exotic, and that ‘Karloff’ was a family name. However, his daughter Sara Karloff publicly denied any knowledge of Slavic forebears, Karloff or otherwise. One reason for the name change was to prevent embarrassment to his family. He did not reunite with his family until he returned to Britain to make The Ghoul (T. Hayes Hunter, 1933), opposite Cedric Hardwicke. Karloff was distraught that his family would disapprove of his new, macabre claim to world fame. Instead, his brothers jostled for position around him and happily posed for publicity photographs. In 1911, Karloff joined the Jeanne Russell Company and later joined the Harry St. Clair Co. which performed in Minot, North Dakota, for a year in an opera house above a hardware store. While trying to establish his acting career, Karloff had to perform years of difficult manual labour in Canada and the U.S. to make ends meet. He was left with back problems from which he suffered for the rest of his life. In 1917, he arrived in Hollywood, where he went on to make dozens of silent films. Some of his first roles were in film serials, such as The Masked Rider (Aubrey M. Kennedy, 1919), in Chapter 2 of which he can be glimpsed onscreen for the first time, and The Hope Diamond Mystery (Stuart Paton, 1920). In these early roles, he was often cast as an exotic Arabian or Indian villain. Other silent films were The Deadlier Sex (Robert Thornby, 1920) with Blanche Sweet, Omar the Tentmaker (James Young, 1922), Dynamite Dan (Bruce Mitchell, 1924) and Tarzan and the Golden Lion (J.P. McGowan, 1927) in which James Pierce played Tarzan. In 1926 Karloff found a provocative role in The Bells (James Young, 1926), in which he played a sinister hypnotist opposite Lionel Barrymore. He worked with Barrymore again in his first sound film, the thriller The Unholy Night (Lionel Barrymore, 1929).
A key film which brought Boris Karloff recognition was The Criminal Code (Howard Hawks, 1931), a prison drama in which he reprised a dramatic part he had played on stage. With his characteristic short-cropped hair and menacing features, Karloff was a frightening sight to behold. Opposite Edward G. Robinson, Karloff played a key supporting part as an unethical newspaper reporter in Five Star Final (Mervyn LeRoy, 1931), a film about tabloid journalism which was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture. Karloff's role as Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (James Whale, 1931), based on the classic Mary Shelley book, propelled him to stardom. Wikipedia: “The bulky costume with four-inch platform boots made it an arduous role but the costume and extensive makeup produced the classic image. The costume was a job in itself for Karloff with the shoes weighing 11 pounds (5 kg) each.” The aura of mystery surrounding Karloff was highlighted in the opening credits, as he was listed as simply "?." The film was a commercial and critical success for Universal, and Karloff was instantly established as a hot property in Hollywood. Universal Studios was quick to acquire ownership of the copyright to the makeup format for the Frankenstein monster that Jack P. Pierce had designed. A year later, Karloff played another iconic character, Imhotep in The Mummy (Karl Freund, 1932). The Old Dark House (James Whale, 1932) with Charles Laughton, and the starring role in MGM’s The Mask of Fu Manchu (Charles Brabin, 1932) quickly followed. Steve Vertlieb at The Thunder Child: “Wonderfully kinky, the film co-starred young Myrna Loy as the intoxicating, yet sadistic Fah Lo See, Fu Manchu's sexually perverse daughter. Filmed before Hollywood's infamous production code, the film joyously escaped the later scrutiny of The Hayes Office, and remains a fascinating example of pre-code extravagance.” These films all confirmed Karloff's new-found stardom. Horror had become his primary genre, and he gave a string of lauded performances in 1930s Universal Horror films. Karloff reprised the role of Frankenstein's monster in two other films, the sensational Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale, 1935) and the less thrilling Son of Frankenstein (Rowland V. Lee, 1939), the latter also featuring Bela Lugosi. Steve Vertlieb about Bride of Frankenstein: “Whale delivered perhaps the greatest horror film of the decade and easily the most critically acclaimed rendition of Mary Shelley's novel ever released. The Bride of Frankenstein remains a work of sheer genius, a brilliantly conceived and realized take on loneliness, vanity, and madness. The cast of British character actors is simply superb.” While the long, creative partnership between Karloff and Lugosi never led to a close friendship, it produced some of the actors' most revered and enduring productions, beginning with The Black Cat (Edgar G. Ullmer, 1934). Follow-ups included The Raven (Lew Landers, 1935), the rarely seen, imaginative science fiction melodrama The Invisible Ray (Lambert Hillyer, 1936), and The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945). Karloff played a wide variety of roles in other genres besides Horror. He was memorably gunned down in a bowling alley in Howard Hawks' classic Scarface (1932) starring Paul Muni.. He played a religious First World War soldier in John Ford’s epic The Lost Patrol (1934) opposite Victor McLaglen. Between 1938 and 1940, Karloff starred in five films for Monogram Pictures, including Mr. Wong, Detective (William Nigh, 1938). During this period, he also starred with Basil Rathbone in Tower of London (Rowland V. Lee, 1939) as the murderous henchman of King Richard III, and with Margaret Lindsay in British Intelligence (Terry O. Morse, 1940). In 1944, he underwent a spinal operation to relieve his chronic arthritic condition.
Boris Karloff revisited the Frankenstein mythos in several later films, taking the starring role of the villainous Dr. Niemann in House of Frankenstein (Erle C. Kenton, 1944), in which the monster was played by Glenn Strange. He reprised the role of the ‘mad scientist’ in Frankenstein 1970 (Howard W. Koch, 1958) as Baron Victor von Frankenstein II, the grandson of the original creator. The finale reveals that the crippled Baron has given his face (i.e., Karloff's) to the monster. From 1945 to 1946, Boris Karloff appeared in three films for RKO produced by Val Lewton: Isle of the Dead (Mark Robson, 1945), The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945), and Bedlam (Mark Robson, 1946). Karloff had left Universal because he thought the Frankenstein franchise had run its course. Karloff was a frequent guest on radio programs. In 1949, he was the host and star of the radio and television anthology series Starring Boris Karloff. In 1950, he had his own weekly children's radio show in New York. He played children's music, told stories and riddles, and attracted many adult listeners as well. An enthusiastic performer, he returned to the Broadway stage in the original production of Arsenic and Old Lace (1941), in which he played a homicidal gangster enraged to be frequently mistaken for Karloff. In 1962, he reprised the role on television with Tony Randall and Tom Bosley. He also appeared as Captain Hook in the play Peter Pan with Jean Arthur. In 1955, he returned to the Broadway stage to portray the sympathetic Bishop Cauchon in Jean Anouilh's The Lark. Karloff regarded the production as the highlight of his long career. Julie Harris was his co-star as Joan of Arc in the celebrated play, recreated for live television in 1957 with Karloff, Harris and much of the original New York company intact. For his role, Karloff was nominated for a Tony Award. Karloff donned the monster make-up for the last time for a Halloween episode of the TV series Route 66 (1962), which also featured Peter Lorre and Lon Chaney, Jr. In the 1960s, Karloff appeared in several films for American International Pictures, including The Comedy of Terrors (Jacques Tourneur, 1963) with Vincent Price and Peter Lorre, The Raven (Roger Corman, 1963), The Terror (Roger Corman, 1963) with Jack Nicholson, and Die, Monster, Die! (Daniel Haller, 1965). Another project for American International release was the frightening Italian horror classic, I tre volti della paura/Black Sabbath (Mario Bava, 1963), in which Karloff played a vampire with bone-chilling intensity. He also starred in British cult director Michael Reeves's second feature film, The Sorcerers (1966). He gained new popularity among the young generation when he narrated the animated TV film Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Chuck Jones, Ben Washam. 1966), and provided the voice of the Grinch. Karloff later received a Grammy Award for Best Recording For Children after the story was released as a record. Then he starred as a retired horror film actor in Targets (Peter Bogdanovich, 1968), Steve Vertlieb: “Targets was a profoundly disturbing study of a young sniper holding a small Midwestern community, deep in the bible belt, terrifyingly at bay. The celebrated subplot concerned the philosophical dilemma of creating fanciful horrors on the screen, while the graphic, troubling reality was eclipsing the superficiality so tiredly repeated by Hollywood. Karloff co-starred, essentially as himself, an aged horror star named Byron Orlok, who wants simply to retire from the imagined horrors of a faded genre, only to come shockingly to grips with the depravity and genuine terror found on America's streets. Bogdanovich's first film as a director won praise from critics and audiences throughout the world community, and won its elder star the best, most respectful notices of his later career.”. In 1968, he played occult expert Professor Marsh in the British production Curse of the Crimson Altar (Vernon Sewell, 1968), which was the last Karloff film to be released during his lifetime. He ended his career by appearing in four low-budget Mexican horror films, which were released posthumously. While shooting his final films, Karloff suffered from emphysema. Only half of one lung was still functioning and he required oxygen between takes. he contracted bronchitis in 1968 and was hospitalized. In early 1969, he died of pneumonia at the King Edward VII Hospital, Midhurst, in Sussex, at the age of 81. Boris Karloff married five times and had one child, daughter Sara Karloff, by his fourth wife.
Sources: Steve Vertlieb (The Thunder Child), Wikipedia, and IMDb.
I'm excited to tell you about my first blog give away-ever!
Megan at Studio M.M.E. Stutterings is kindly hosting the give away on her blog. Please show your support and enter in for a chance to win one of my 5"x7" pen and ink fine art prints!
for more info and to enter in for your chance to win go here: studiomme.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html
Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularius) Bertram Creek Regional Park, Kelowna (soty15)
(From Cornell's All About Birds):
"The dapper Spotted Sandpiper makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America.
Spotted Sandpipers are the most widespread sandpiper in North America, and they are common near most kinds of freshwater, including rivers and streams, as well as near the sea coast. Their range includes water bodies in otherwise arid parts of the continent, and it extends into the mountains, where they may occur upwards of 14,000 feet above sea level. Breeding territories generally need to have a shoreline, a semiopen area where the nest will be, and patches of dense vegetation for sheltering the chicks. Spotted Sandpipers spend the winter along the coasts of North America or on beaches, mangroves, rainforest, and cloud forest up to 6,000 feet elevation in Central and South America.
Cool Facts
• The Spotted Sandpiper is the most widespread breeding sandpiper in North America.
• Female Spotted Sandpipers sometimes practice an unusual breeding strategy called polyandry, where a female mates with up to four males, each of which then cares for a clutch of eggs. One female in Minnesota laid five clutches for three males in a month and a half. This odd arrangement does not happen everywhere and often they are monogamous, with the female pitching in to help a little.
• The female Spotted Sandpiper is the one who establishes and defends the territory. She arrives at the breeding grounds earlier than the male. In other species of migratory birds, where the male establishes the territory, he arrives earlier.
• The male takes the primary role in parental care, incubating the eggs and taking care of the young. One female may lay eggs for up to four different males at a time.
• Despite the gender roles, male Spotted Sandpipers have 10 times the testosterone that females have. However, that’s only in absolute terms. During the breeding season, females see a sevenfold increase in their testosterone levels, perhaps accounting for their aggression and the overall role reversal between male and female.
• The female may store sperm for up to one month. The eggs she lays for one male may be fathered by a different male in a previous mating.
• Its characteristic teetering motion has earned the Spotted Sandpiper many nicknames. Among them are teeter-peep, teeter-bob, jerk or perk bird, teeter-snipe, and tip-tail.
• The function of the teetering motion typical of this species has not been determined. Chicks teeter nearly as soon as they hatch from the egg. The teetering gets faster when the bird is nervous, but stops when the bird is alarmed, aggressive, or courting."
The Postcard
A Shurey's postcard, on the back of which is printed:
'This beautiful Series of Fine Art Post Cards
is supplied free exclusively by Shurey's
Publications, comprising "Smart Novels",
"Yes or No", and "Dainty Novels".
The publications are obtainable throughout
Great Britain, the Colonies and Foreign
Countries'.
The claim of world-wide availability seems somewhat misplaced - can you imagine walking into a shop in, e.g. Port Saïd or Manila in the early 1900's and asking for a copy of 'Yes or No'?
Does anyone out there know what the ominous-looking box is for? If so, please let us know.
The Card was posted in Luton on Thursday the 16th. June 1910 to:
Miss Boston,
Brightwell,
Morden,
Surrey.
The message on the divided back was as follows:
"The box came quite safely,
Dad fetched it on Saturday.
I should not get a pin Dear
as they are not worn now.
You are behind the times.
Leave it until you come
home, also your hat unless
you are hard up.
Dad, Mum and I went up to
the Hoo on Tuesday - we did
enjoy ourselves.
We will write a letter next
week.
Much love,
H."
Jack Sheppard
Jack Sheppard, also known as 'Honest Jack', who was born on the 4th. March 1702, was a notorious English thief and prison escapee of early 18th. century London.
Born into a poor family, he was apprenticed as a carpenter, but took to theft and burglary in 1723, with little more than a year of his training to complete.
He was arrested and imprisoned five times in 1724, but escaped four times from prison, making him a notorious public figure, and wildly popular with the poorer classes.
Ultimately, he was caught, convicted, and hanged at Tyburn, ending his brief criminal career after less than two years.
The inability of the notorious "Thief-Taker General" Jonathan Wild to control Sheppard, and injuries suffered by Wild at the hands of Sheppard's colleague Joseph "Blueskin" Blake led to Wild's downfall.
Sheppard was as renowned for his attempts to escape from prison as he was for his crimes. An autobiographical "Narrative", thought to have been ghostwritten by Daniel Defoe, was sold at his execution, quickly followed by popular plays.
The character of Macheath in John Gay's The Beggar's Opera (1728) was based on Sheppard, keeping him in the limelight for over 100 years.
He returned to public consciousness around 1840, when William Harrison Ainsworth wrote a novel entitled Jack Sheppard, with illustrations by George Cruikshank. The popularity of his tale, and the fear that others would be drawn to emulate his behaviour, led the authorities to refuse to license any plays in London with "Jack Sheppard" in the title for forty years.
Jack Sheppard - The Early Years
Sheppard was born in White's Row, in London's Spitalfields. He was baptised on the 5th. March, the day after he was born, at St Dunstan's, Stepney, suggesting a fear of infant mortality by his parents, perhaps because the newborn was weak or sickly.
His parents named him after an older brother, John, who had died before his birth. In life however, he was better known as Jack, or even "Gentleman Jack" or "Jack the Lad".
Jack had a second brother, Thomas, and a younger sister, Mary. Their father, a carpenter, died while Sheppard was young, and his sister died two years later.
Unable to support her family without her husband's income, Jack's mother sent him to Mr Garrett's School, a workhouse near St Helen's Bishopsgate, when he was six years old.
Jack was sent out as a parish apprentice to a cane-chair maker, taking a settlement of 20 shillings, but his new master soon died. He was sent out to a second cane-chair maker, but Sheppard was treated badly.
Finally, when Sheppard was 10, he went to work as a shop-boy for a wool draper who had a shop on the Strand. The draper was called William Kneebone. (... the origin of 'The knee bone's connected to the thigh bone'? ... Maybe not ...)
Sheppard's mother had been working for Kneebone since her husband's death. Kneebone taught Sheppard to read and write, and apprenticed him to a carpenter appropriately named Owen Wood, in Wych Street, off Drury Lane in Covent Garden. Sheppard signed his seven-year indenture on the 2nd. April 1717.
By 1722, Jack Sheppard was showing great promise as a carpenter. Aged 20, he was a small man, only 5'4" (1.63 m) and lightly built, but deceptively strong. He had a pale face with large, dark eyes, a wide mouth and a quick smile. Despite a slight stutter, his wit made him popular in the taverns of Drury Lane. He served five unblemished years of his apprenticeship, but then began to be led into crime.
Jack Sheppard's Criminal Career
Joseph Hayne, a button-moulder who owned a shop nearby, also ran a tavern named the Black Lion off Drury Lane, which he encouraged the local apprentices to frequent.
The Black Lion was visited by criminals such as Joseph "Blueskin" Blake, Sheppard's future partner in crime, and self-proclaimed "Thief-Taker General" Jonathan Wild, secretly the linchpin of a criminal empire across London and later Sheppard's implacable enemy.
According to Sheppard's autobiography, he had been an innocent until going to Hayne's tavern, but there began an attachment to strong drink and the affections of Elizabeth Lyon, a prostitute also known as Edgeworth Bess from her place of birth at Edgeworth in Middlesex.
In his History, Defoe records that:
"Bess was a main lodestone
in attracting of him up to this
Eminence of Guilt."
Such, Sheppard claimed, was the source of his later ruin. Peter Linebaugh offers a more romantic view:
"Sheppard's sudden transformation
was a liberation from the dull drudgery
of indentured labour.
He progressed from pious servitude to
self-confident rebellion and levelling."
Jack Sheppard threw himself into a hedonistic whirl of drinking and whoring. Inevitably, his carpentry suffered, and he became disobedient to his master.
With Edgeworth Bess's encouragement, Sheppard took to crime in order to augment his legitimate wages. His first recorded theft was in Spring 1723, when he engaged in petty shoplifting, stealing two silver spoons while on an errand for his master to the Rummer Tavern in Charing Cross.
Sheppard's misdeeds initially went undetected, and he moved on to larger crimes, often stealing goods from the houses where he was working.
Finally, he quit the employ of his master on the 2nd. August 1723, with less than two years of his apprenticeship left, although he continued to work as a journeyman carpenter. He progressed to burglary, falling in with criminals in Jonathan Wild's gang.
He moved to Fulham, living as husband and wife with Edgeworth Bess at Parsons Green, before moving to Piccadilly. When Bess was arrested and imprisoned at St. Giles's Roundhouse, the beadle, a Mr Brown, refused to let Sheppard visit, so he broke in and took her away.
Two Arrests and Two Escapes
Sheppard was first arrested after a burglary he committed with his brother, Tom, and his mistress, Bess, in Clare Market on the 5th. February 1724.
Tom, also a carpenter, had already been convicted once for stealing tools from his master the previous autumn and burned in the hand. Tom was arrested again on the 24th. April 1724. Afraid that he would be hanged this time, Tom informed on Jack, and a warrant was issued for Jack's arrest.
Jonathan Wild was aware of Sheppard's thefts, as Sheppard had fenced some stolen goods through one of Wild's men, William Field.
Wild asked another of his men, James Sykes (known as "Hell and Fury") to challenge Sheppard to a game of skittles at Redgate's public house near Seven Dials. Sykes betrayed Sheppard to a Mr Price, a constable from the parish of St. Giles, to gather the usual £40 reward for giving information leading to the conviction of a felon.
The magistrate, Justice Parry, had Sheppard imprisoned overnight on the top floor of St Giles's Roundhouse pending further questioning, but Sheppard escaped within three hours by breaking through the timber ceiling and lowering himself to the ground with a rope fashioned from bedclothes.
Still wearing irons, Sheppard coolly joined the crowd that had been attracted by the sounds of his breaking out. He distracted their attention by pointing to the shadows on the roof and shouting that he could see the escapee, and then swiftly departed.
On the 19th. May 1724, Sheppard was arrested for a second time, caught in the act of picking a pocket in Leicester Fields (near present-day Leicester Square). He was detained overnight in St Ann's Roundhouse in Soho and visited there the next day by Bess; however she was recognised as his wife, and locked in a cell with him.
They appeared before Justice Walters, who sent them to the New Prison in Clerkenwell, but they escaped from their cell within a matter of days. By the 25th. May, they had filed through their manacles. They removed a bar from the window and used their knotted bed-clothes to descend to ground level.
Finding themselves in the yard of the neighbouring Bridewell, they clambered over the 22-foot-high (6.7 m) prison gate to freedom. This feat was widely publicised, not least because Sheppard was only a small man, and Bess was a large, buxom woman.
Jack Sheppard's Third Arrest, Trial, and Third Escape
Sheppard's thieving abilities were admired by Jonathan Wild, who demanded that Sheppard surrender his stolen goods for Wild to fence, and so take the greater profits, but Sheppard refused.
Instead Jack began to work with Joseph "Blueskin" Blake, and they burgled Sheppard's former master, William Kneebone, on the 12th. July 1724. However Wild could not permit Sheppard to continue outside his control, and began to seek Sheppard's arrest.
Unfortunately for Sheppard, his fence, William Field, was one of Wild's men. After Sheppard had a brief foray with Blueskin as highwaymen on the Hampstead Road on the 19th. and 20th. July, Field informed on Sheppard to Wild.
Wild believed that Bess would know Sheppard's whereabouts, so he plied her with drinks at a brandy shop near Temple Bar until she betrayed him. Sheppard was arrested for a third time at Blueskin's mother's brandy shop in Rosemary Lane, east of the Tower of London on the 23rd. July by Wild's henchman, Quilt Arnold.
Sheppard was imprisoned in Newgate Prison pending his trial at the next Assize. He was prosecuted on three charges of theft at the Old Bailey, but was acquitted on the first two due to lack of evidence.
Kneebone, Wild and Field gave evidence against him on the third charge, the burglary of Kneebone's house. He was convicted on the 12th. August, the case "being plainly prov'd", and sentenced to death.
However, on the 31st. August, the very day when the death warrant arrived from the court in Windsor setting the 4th. September as the date for his execution, Sheppard escaped.
Having loosened an iron bar in a window used when talking to visitors, he was visited by Bess and Poll Maggott, who distracted the guards while he removed the bar. His slight build enabled him to climb through the resulting gap in the grille, and he was smuggled out of Newgate in women's clothing that his visitors had brought him.
He took a coach to Blackfriars Stairs, then a boat up the River Thames to the horse ferry in Westminster, near the warehouse where he hid his stolen goods, and made good his escape.
Jack Sheppard's Fourth Arrest and Final Escape
By this point, Sheppard was a hero to a segment of the population, being a cockney, non-violent, handsome and seemingly able to escape punishment for his crimes at will.
He spent a few days out of London, visiting a friend's family in Chipping Warden in Northamptonshire, but was soon back in town. He evaded capture by Wild and his men, but was arrested again on the 9th. September by a posse from Newgate as he hid out on Finchley Common, and was returned to the condemned cell at Newgate.
Jack's fame had increased with each escape, and he was visited in prison by the great, the good and the curious. His plans to escape in September were thwarted twice when the guards found files and other tools in his cell.
Jack was accordingly transferred to a strong-room in Newgate known as the "Castle", clapped in leg irons, and chained to two metal staples in the floor to prevent further escape attempts.
After demonstrating to his gaolers that these measures were insufficient, by showing them how he could use a small nail to unlock the horse padlock at will, he was bound more tightly and handcuffed. In his History, Defoe reports that Sheppard made light of his predicament, joking that:
"I am the Sheppard, and all the Gaolers
in the Town are my Flock, and I cannot
stir into the Country, but they are all at
my Heels Laughing after me".
Meanwhile, "Blueskin" Blake was arrested by Wild and his men on the 9th. October, and Tom, Jack's brother, was transported for robbery on the 10th. October 1724.
New court sessions began on the 14th. October, and Blueskin was tried on the 15th. October, with Field and Wild again giving evidence. Their accounts were not consistent with the evidence that they gave at Sheppard's trial, but Blueskin was convicted anyway.
Enraged, Blueskin attacked Wild in the courtroom, slashing his throat with a pocket-knife and causing an uproar. Wild was lucky to survive, and his grip over his criminal empire started to slip while he recuperated.
Taking advantage of the disturbance, which spread to Newgate Prison next door and continued into the night, Sheppard escaped for the fourth time. He unlocked his handcuffs and removed the chains.
Still encumbered by his leg irons, he attempted to climb up the chimney, but his path was blocked by an iron bar set into the brickwork. He removed the bar, and used it to break through the ceiling into the "Red Room" above the "Castle", a room which had last been used some seven years before to confine aristocratic Jacobite prisoners after the Battle of Preston.
Still wearing his leg irons as night fell, he then broke through six barred doors into the prison chapel, then to the roof of Newgate, 60 feet (20 m) above the ground. He went back down to his cell to get a blanket, then back to the roof of the prison, and used the blanket to reach the roof of an adjacent house, owned by William Bird, a turner.
He broke into Bird's house, and went down the stairs and out into the street at around midnight without disturbing the occupants. Escaping through the streets to the north and west, Sheppard hid in a cowshed in Tottenham (near modern Tottenham Court Road).
Spotted by the cowshed's owner, Sheppard told him that he had escaped from Bridewell Prison, having been imprisoned there for failing to support a (nonexistent) bastard son. Jack's leg irons remained in place for several days until he persuaded a passing shoemaker to accept the considerable sum of 20 shillings to bring a blacksmith's tools and help him remove them, telling him the same tale.
His manacles and leg irons were later recovered in the rooms of Kate Cook, one of Sheppard's mistresses. This latest escape astonished everyone. Daniel Defoe, working as a journalist, wrote an account for John Applebee, The History of the Remarkable Life of John Sheppard. In his History, Defoe reports the belief in Newgate that the Devil came in person to assist Sheppard's escape.
The Final Capture of Jack Sheppard
Sheppard's final period of liberty lasted just two weeks. He disguised himself as a beggar and returned to the city. He broke into Rawlins brothers' pawnbroker's shop in Drury Lane on the night of the 29th. October 1724, taking a black silk suit, a silver sword, rings, watches, a wig, and other items.
He dressed himself as a dandy gentleman, and used the proceeds to spend a day and the following evening on the tiles with two mistresses. He was arrested a final time in the early morning of the 1st. November, blind drunk:
"In a handsome Suit of Black, with a
Diamond Ring and a carnelian ring
on his Finger, and a fine Light Tye
Peruke".
This time, Sheppard was placed in the Middle Stone Room, in the centre of Newgate next to the "Castle", where he could be observed at all times. He was also loaded with 300 pounds of iron weights. He was so celebrated that the gaolers charged high society visitors four shillings to see him:
"The Concourse of People of tolerable
Fashion to see him was exceeding Great,
he was always Chearful and Pleasant to a
Degree, as turning almost everything as
was said onto a Jest and Banter."
To a Reverend Wagstaffe who visited him, he said, according to Defoe:
"One file's worth all the Bibles
in the World".
The King's painter James Thornhill painted his portrait.
Several prominent people sent a petition to King George I, begging for his sentence of death to be commuted to transportation.
Sheppard came before Mr Justice Powis in the Court of King's Bench at Westminster Hall on the 10th. November. He was offered the chance to have his sentence reduced by informing on his associates, but he scorned the offer, and the death sentence was confirmed. The next day, Blueskin was hanged, and Sheppard was moved to the condemned cell.
The Execution of Jack Sheppard
The following Monday, 16th. November, Sheppard was taken to the gallows at Tyburn to be hanged. He had planned one more escape, but his pen-knife, intended to cut the ropes binding him on the way to the gallows, was found by a prison warder shortly before he left Newgate for the last time.
A joyous procession passed through the streets of London, with Sheppard's cart drawn along Holborn and Oxford Street accompanied by a mounted City Marshal and liveried Javelin Men.
The occasion was as much as anything a celebration of Sheppard's life, attended by crowds of up to 200,000 (one third of London's population). The procession halted at the City of Oxford tavern on Oxford Street, where Sheppard drank a pint of sack.
A carnival atmosphere pervaded Tyburn, where his "official" autobiography, published by Applebee and probably ghostwritten by Defoe, was on sale. Sheppard handed a paper to someone as he mounted the scaffold, perhaps as a symbolic endorsement of the account in the "Narrative".
Jack's slight build had aided his previous prison escapes, but it condemned him to a slow death by strangulation from the hangman's noose. After hanging for the prescribed 15 minutes, his body was cut down.
The crowd pressed forward to stop his body from being removed, fearing dissection; their actions inadvertently prevented Sheppard's friends from implementing a plan to take his body to a doctor in an attempt to revive him. His badly mauled remains were recovered later, and buried in the churchyard of St. Martin-in-the-Fields that evening.
Jack Sheppard's Legacy
There was a spectacular public reaction to Sheppard's deeds. He was even cited (favourably) as an example in newspapers, pamphlets, broadsheets, and ballads which were all devoted to his amazing exploits, and his story was adapted for the stage almost immediately.
Harlequin Sheppard, a pantomime by John Thurmond (subtitled "A Night Scene in Grotesque Characters"), opened at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, on the 28th. November, only two weeks after Sheppard's hanging.
In a famous contemporary sermon, a London preacher drew on Sheppard's popular escapes as a way of holding his congregation's attention:
"Let me exhort ye, then, to open the locks
of your hearts with the nail of repentance!
Burst asunder the fetters of your beloved
lusts! - mount the chimney of hope! - take
from thence the bar of good resolution! -
break through the stone wall of despair!"
The account of his life remained well-known through the Newgate Calendar, and a three-act farce was published but never produced. However when mixed with songs, it became The Quaker's Opera, later performed at Bartholomew Fair.
An imagined dialogue between Jack Sheppard and Julius Caesar was published in the British Journal on the 4th. December 1724, in which Sheppard favourably compares his virtues and exploits to those of Caesar.
The most prominent play based on Sheppard's life is John Gay's The Beggar's Opera (1728). Sheppard was the inspiration for the figure of Macheath; his nemesis, Peachum, is based on Jonathan Wild. The play was spectacularly popular, restoring the fortune that Gay had lost in the South Sea Bubble, and was produced regularly for over 100 years.
An unperformed but published play The Prison-Breaker was turned into The Quaker's Opera (in imitation of The Beggar's Opera) and performed at Bartholomew Fair in 1725 and 1728. Two centuries later The Beggar's Opera was the basis for The Threepenny Opera of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill (1928).
Sheppard's tale may have been an inspiration for William Hogarth's 1747 series of 12 engravings, Industry and Idleness. These show the descent of an apprentice, Tom Idle, into crime and eventually to the gallows, beside the rise of his fellow apprentice, Francis Goodchild. Goodchild marries his master's daughter and takes over his business, becoming wealthy as a result, eventually emulating Dick Whittington to become Lord Mayor of London.
A melodrama, Jack Sheppard, The Housebreaker, or London in 1724, by W. T. Moncrieff was published in 1825.
More successful was William Harrison Ainsworth's third novel, entitled Jack Sheppard, which was originally published in Bentley's Miscellany from January 1839 with illustrations by George Cruikshank, overlapping with the final episodes of Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist.
An archetypal Newgate novel, it generally remains close to the facts of Sheppard's life, but portrays him as a swashbuckling hero. Like Hogarth's prints, the novel pairs the descent of the "idle" apprentice into crime with the rise of a typical melodramatic character, Thames Darrell, a foundling of aristocratic birth who defeats his evil uncle to recover his fortune.
Cruikshank's images perfectly complemented Ainsworth's tale - Thackeray wrote that:
"Mr Cruickshank really created the tale,
and Mr Ainsworth, as it were, only put
words to it."
The novel quickly became very popular: it was published in book form later that year, before the serialised version was completed, and even outsold early editions of Oliver Twist. Ainsworth's novel was adapted into a successful play by John Buckstone in October 1839 at the Adelphi Theatre.
Indeed, it seems likely that Cruikshank's illustrations were deliberately created in a form that would be easy to repeat as tableaux on stage. The play has been described as:
"The exemplary climax of the
pictorial novel dramatized
pictorially".
Jack Sheppard's story generated a form of cultural mania, embellished by pamphlets, prints, cartoons, plays and souvenirs, not repeated until George du Maurier's Trilby in 1895.
By early 1840, a cant song from Buckstone's play, "Nix My Dolly, Pals, Fake Away" was reported to be "deafening us in the streets". Public alarm at the possibility that young people would emulate Sheppard's behaviour led the Lord Chamberlain to ban, at least in London, the licensing of any plays with "Jack Sheppard" in the title for forty years.
The fear may not have been entirely unfounded: Courvousier, the valet of Lord William Russell, said in one of his several confessions that the book had inspired him to murder his master.
Frank and Jesse James wrote letters to the Kansas City Star signed "Jack Sheppard".
Burlesques of the story were written after the ban was lifted, including a popular Gaiety Theatre, London, piece called Little Jack Sheppard (1886) by Henry Pottinger Stephens and William Yardley, which starred Nellie Farren as Jack.
The Sheppard story has been revived three times on film in the 20th century: The Hairbreadth Escape of Jack Sheppard (1900), Jack Sheppard (1923), and Where's Jack? (1969), a British costume drama directed by James Clavell with Tommy Steele in the title role.
Jake Arnott features him in his 2017 novel The Fatal Tree.
In 1971 the British pop group Chicory Tip paid tribute to Sheppard in "Don't Hang Jack", the B-side to "I Love Onions". The song, apparently sung from the viewpoint of a witness in the courtroom, describes Jack's daring exploits as a thief, and futilely begs the judge to spare Sheppard because he was loved by the women of the town, and idolised by the lads who "made him their king."
In Jordy Rosenberg's 2018 novel Confessions of the Fox, a 21st-century academic discovers a manuscript containing Sheppard's "confessions", which tell the story of his childhood and his love affair with Edgeworth Bess, and make the unlikely revelation that he was a transgender man.
Charles Mackay in Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds wrote:
"Whether it be that the multitude, feeling the
pangs of poverty, sympathise with the daring
and ingenious depredators who take away
the rich man's superfluity, or whether it be the
interest that mankind in general feel for the
records of perilous adventure, it is certain that
the populace of all countries look with admiration
upon great and successful thieves."
A Hungarian Cloudburst
So what else happened on the day that the card was posted?
Well, on the 16th. June 1910, a cloudburst in Hungary added to existing flood waters, killing 800 people in villages in the Kronstadt district, another 180 in Temesvar and 100 in Moldava.
Arizona and New Mexico
Also on that day, the United States Senate unanimously passed a bill extending statehood to the territories of Arizona and New Mexico.
Admission as a state still required adopting a proposed state constitution, subject then to the approval of Congress and the President, as well as other procedures.
When I shoot with my LX100 set on iA (fully automatic) I often get some Stuttering at the outside of the image. It looks like a double exposure that is off just a bit. This happened when I shot this one, so I worked in Snapseed, PhotoToaster and TitleFX to make it “arty,” and to save the shot.
Title: The Case Of The Stuttering Bishop.
Author: Erle Stanley Gardner.
Publisher: Pocket Books.
Date: 1943.
Artist:
Stutter Rap (No Sleep til Bedtime), was a parody on Gangster Rap (No Sleet til Brooklyn), by the Beastie Boys. Morris Minor and the Majors, fronted by comedian Tony Hawks took the song to number 4 in 1988.
Ok, the record is naff, but the cover is the reason for this posting, a superb red 1950 moggie convertible, RVW 178, a car that is still around.
TERRA / Heft-Reihe
Reuben Robert Merliss / Kampfroboter
(The Stutterer)
cover: Karl Stephan
Moewig-Verlag
(München / Deutschland; 1960)
ex libris MTP
The window's open, it's the heart of the summer More people comin' lookin' for the number Mary Ellen sees them she has a little stutter, she yells
I've burnt the blank page
until my stuttering stalls
and I've been talking to myself since the fall
I can hear strangers speak
from the door in the hall
and we both live on the other side of the wall
the men that I hear
they just want to make love
and the women, they make nothing at all
we don't speak face to face
because we're too into out of place
if my ears are ringing, then I'll heed the call
all my words are bound and backward
and all my tales are tall
I'm embarrassed that my syllables are small
only when I'm all surrounded
and surrendered to the silence
will the white noise leave me in a lull
I've burnt the blank page
until my stuttering stalls
and I've been talking to myself since the fall...
© Steve Skafte
the library project is a project creating a subtle dialogue about the issue of giving,lending and taking.as most of my pieces have a lifespan of a stutter in the street (either because of collectors or weather or the street cleaners), i thought i would try to embrace it and play around with the circumstances. before placing the pieces on the surface, i wrote(for the first edition, but later came up with alternate sentences) "i let you borrow my heart for a while,let others borrow it as well", and then placed the piece over the writing,covering it.
the pieces in this series are applied with double sided tape (which can be easily removed) with some unpeeled scraps of tape on the cardboard left for the borrower to replace anwhere.i think its great if someone wants to take it home, but it raises the conflict of the fact that its in the street for the art to be shared with the people using it.therfore, whoever dispatches the piece can replace it in it original location, or even better, a new location,making him/her part of the arts existence and making it even more part of the collective reality than it was before.
(best viewed large)
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JULY 11: Eric Dinallo, Emily Blunt and Lucy Fato attend the 2022 Freeing Voices, Changing Lives Gala at Guastavino's on July 11, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
"Porky stutters through the Elvis Presley classic, while a small crowd listens and giggles.
Porky's romantic line in the middle of the song is the icing on the Christmas cake.
The song was never a track on a Warner Brothers Looney Tunes Christmas album, with an official Porky Pig voice actor.
It has been attributed to several comedians over the years, since pretty much anybody who can do voices can do a Porky Pig impression. (That should be a job requirement.)
The song was done by voice actor Denny Brownlee on the John Boy and Billy radio show that aired for years in Birmingham on WZRR 99.5 FM. It's on the "John Boy & Billy Christmas Album," downloadable on iTunes.
The "official" artist is "Seymore Swine and the Squealers," after Warner Bros. threatened a legal smack down."
In a mouse model of stuttering (lower panel), there are fewer astrocytes, shown in green, compared to controls (upper panel) in the corpus callosum, the area of the brain that enables the left and right hemispheres to communicate.
Researchers believe that stuttering — a potentially lifelong and debilitating speech disorder — stems from problems with the circuits in the brain that control speech, but precisely how and where these problems occur is unknown. Using a mouse model of stuttering, scientists report that a loss of cells in the brain called astrocytes are associated with stuttering. The mice had been engineered with a human gene mutation previously linked to stuttering. The study, which appeared online in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, offers insights into the neurological deficits associated with stuttering.
Read more:
www.nih.gov/news-events/news-releases/nih-study-mice-iden...
Credit: Tae-Un Han, Ph.D., National Institute on Deafness and Communication Disorders, NIH
A part of Vegetation series
I love how this set turned out. It is exactly how I wanted it to look. All the elements came together: good lighting, wide open space, and a willing beautiful subject. It was so much fun!
Special thanks to: Stephanie Kim and Susan Park
For this photo I've used:
Canon Elan II w/50mm 1.8, Expired Kodak 400 Film, Epson V330 scanner and Photoshop CS3
For more information about this image and how it is made please visit the page for its set Did I Stutter?.
"Listen to what the landscape says,
And all that it fails to say, and what the clouds say, and the light,
Inveterate stutterer." - Charles Wright
The stuttering is from my frozen fingers. it's about 5 below now, about an hour after I took the photo. Fumbling around in the dark with bare fingers on tripod, exposed metal and camera controls just about did me in. It was sort of silly anyhow. I only had an 80-200 zoom, not long enough to do a really detailed closeup of the Moon. Rather than do something half-assed at the long end of the range, I zoomed back to 80mm and went for an impressionistic image of the moon in the trees with stars, cranking up the ISO to add a bit of pointillistic noise for atmosphere. I'm not sure it works, but for me it's a visual reminder of a really beautiful moment. After partially defrosting my fingers, T and I went back out in the icy darkness, no longer messing around with hardware, but just looking up at the cold, clear panorama of a magical winter sky with our own eyes.
Available now @ Exposeur
Main Store - slurl.com/secondlife/Reek/178/209/23
Marketplace - marketplace.secondlife.com/stores/16816
The Dodo is a fictional character appearing in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. Carroll, who's real surname was Dodgson had a stutter and very frequently pronounced his name "Do-do-dodgson".
Rack never blurted; she always controlled her output. The effect was precise and Protestant, ‘I found out I am HIV positive a few days ago’
‘Oh Christ’, Ruin blurted, Catholic to the hilt.
Ruin was always an outlet for Rack, almost like a delinquent spokesperson, the stuttering utterer of the unspeakable. He had the ability to take the private into the realm of the universally available with consummate ease. She didn’t. It was something she greatly feared and something she instinctively grasped that early summer morning in 1988, in the 'Moondance Diner', on 6th Avenue and Grand. She knew she was making the personal public. She was undoing herself.
He possessed that strange gift, the one imposed and imprinted, like the mark of Cain, on the sexually molested child, of having no facility to recognise boundaries, no ability to be able to tell the personal and private apart from what could be made generally available. She knew that he was her surrogate broadcaster and momentarily shuddered at the stranger, whom she had spontaneously trusted, sitting opposite her. This understanding hung between them as they ordered breakfast.
Their opening was torturous and drove them scurrying apart. It was more than either of them could handle, Rack racked with regret for exposing this opening wound and Ruin incapable of carrying the story alone. Their rehabilitation was slow and arduous. It was a time when to speak these words was a declaration of the almost immediate dissolution of self. It was a time before the hope generated by the misnomered cocktails and the political agitation, which was to burgeon out of despair and become Act- Up. It was a time before anything could be done except grasp at straws. So, both started grasping and would occasionally find themselves in the same room drawn to the same possible panacea. Rack’s volition was desperation. Ruin’s was guilt. They acknowledged each other with some embarrassment and growing affection and more often than not turned away from each other and left separately. Ruin knew he loved Rack. Rack was not at all sure.
Dear Rack,
Just sending you back some words you once sent to me:
“I have often thought that writers do not write; they read what is already written and transcribe. So perhaps they are not complaining about ill health, lack of money, and rejection, but about the bondage of a calling that keeps them laboriously transcribing cryptic messages in rapidly disappearing ink, like the traces of a dream, year after year...."
Thinking of how romantic you are.... even if it is all so appalling to live through.
We seem to endure, and hopefully will continue to do so for a little while longer.
Love,
Ruin
West coast of Ireland on Achill Island taken last September. A slow stutter speed with a yellow filter on Fuji Acros 100 developed in Rodinal Hasselblad and 60mm lens.
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JUNE 12: <> attends the American Institute For Stuttering 17th Annual Gala Hosted By Emily Blunt on June 12, 2023 in New York City. (Photo by Bryan Bedder/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
Stuttering Barred Frog (Mixophyes balbus), Mid-north Coast, New South Wales.
It was very dry in the forest this time of the year and one of the creeks had no water except for a small pool with tadpoles of this species. I spotted this juvenile sitting a few metres away in the leaf litter where it had begun to develop the characteristic blue upper-eye of the adult.
It has been fun watching her make people stutter. I can't believe she's never really modeled before. Henna by rovinghorse at Roving Horse Henna.
Suki: *nods* "To some little Scottish chippy."
Chloe *visibly upset* "B-b-but, I d-d-didn't know he w-w-was--"
Suki (calmly): "Slow down, Chlo. You're stutter's showing. Take a deep breath and start again."
Chloe: *inhales deeply and says slowly* "I didn't know he was dating anyone serious."
Suki: "You and me both. Apparently, she's Yuri and Kumi's cousin on their dad's side. That's how he met her, hanging out at their place."
Chloe: "Oh."
Suki: "I called Yuri after Z told me the news, and she said the marriage was a shock to them all. I plan to call Kums later and get her side of it. She's less tactful, thus there will be more dirt."
Chloe: "Oh."
Suki: "I can't believe he did this! Last I checked, marriage was the farthest thing from his mind. I wonder what this Emma is like..."
Chloe: *rubs eyes*
Suki (intently): "She better pray to the surf gods I like her. That's all I'm sayin'--"
Chloe: *sobs*
Suki (surprised): "Chlo, hon, don't cry! I'm sure it'll be fine. I was just b***hin' a little. Zin usually knows what he's doin'."
Chloe: "N-n-not t-t-that."
Suki: *searches bag for Kleenex* "Then, tell me what's wrong."
Chloe: *shakes head and sobs harder*
Fashion Credits
Chloe
Re-root by valmaxi (love)
Bikini Top: Mattel - Beach Baby Marissa
Bikini Bottom: Momoko - Beach Rodeo
Sunglasses: MGA - America's Next Top Model
Necklace and Bracelets: Me
Suki
Bikini: Auntie Betty, a.k.a. watbetty
Shirt: Mattel - CaliGirl Barbie
Skirt: Momoko - Wild 'n' Sexy Tune
Bag: Cangaway (Etsy)
Earrings and Bracelets: Me
Western Rd, Penang.
Freemasonry arrived in Penang in 1786 with its founder Captain Francis Light. After a stuttering start, freemasonry picked up in 1875 with the establishment of the Royal Prince of Wales Lodge in Beach Street in George Town. By 1906, there were four Lodges in Penang including the Gottlieb Lodge, the Lodge Scotia and the Victoria Jubilee Chapter. The Scottish Lodge broke away to move into its own premises in 1917 but in the early 1920s, all Lodges agreed to pool their resources to construct a new Masonic Temple.
Designed by architect Howard Leicester in a rather grand and solid Art-Deco style (it reminds me of the old Hongkong & Shanghai Bank building in Hong Kong), the chief cornerstone of Langkawi marble was laid by W Bro John Gray Allan, a past Master of both Craft Lodges, on 17 December 1927. Inside, the floor of the dining hall is fitted with springs imported from England to accommodate ballroom dancing, as well as Masonic banquets.
[14:49] Caty Weezles: The sights of the man she loathed right now had her running ... away. She ducked into the first opening she saw and cowered there for a moment. Peering through the gates on occassion. Back to Elise.
[14:51] Elise Capalini sits in the graveyard quiet when everyone has gone, near the fresh grave that Eamon dug for the birds. One crow. a baby from the looks of it, flies down from the masoleum's roof, to sit on the grave and nose at the dirt. She watches the bird and thinks of the Mass that just was. She wonders if they will ever have a normal one again. She looks up when she hears movement, and catches sight of Caty, who appears to be running from someone. "Caty...are you all right?" she asks. She stands slowly, but doesn't yet approach.
[14:54] Caty Weezles: The familiar voice through the air had her turning, she shook then and backed into the wall, chocolate eyes looking to Elise as a threat too. There over her shoulder was a small bag. It didn't look full by any means. And under her arm she carried a small treasure chest music box. It chimed as she thudded against the concrete. "Go.. go..." She actually stuttered.
[14:57] Elise Capalini watches Caty turn and hears the faint music from her bag when she rocks against the wall. "Are -you- going?" she asks her. Judging by the running and the bag, she wonders if the girl is running away from home. She takes a couple steps forward, though slowly, and keeps her hands visible, not wanting to frighten the girl any more than she already is.
[15:00] Caty Weezles spread one arm across the wall, feeling it for length and how far she could creep before turning and bolting. Terror filled her eyes, the music chiming in now and then. The music was wound too tight, for too long, too many times and was now offkey of the normal soothing music it once played. She shook her head some, her voice croaked, "You go 'way. Cats are bad."
[15:02] Elise Capalini stays where she is and doesn't come any closer. She hates hearing those words from Caty; they feel like a physical blow. She sinks back to the ground, her shoulders slumped. "Why are cats bad, Caty?" she asks softly. "The gate there is open--if you need to run..." She doesn't want the girl to run, but understands well the need to, the need to know escape was an option.
[15:06] Caty Weezles: Tears already threatened to spill down her cheeks. She was ready to go wherever it was they were going to. She thought she was leaving somewhere, "You shooted my Daddy. Daddy says cats are bad! You have to go to jail and Mister Eamon too!" She shouted across the way. It was a choking shout, the kind where you can't catch your breath to get the words out in one stream. "God shouldn't miss next time!"
[15:09] Elise Capalini's throat tightens at the sound of Caty's voice. Oh she'd sounded like that a time or two herself. She blinks, unshed tears stinging her own eye. "I shot your daddy," she says and nods. "Because he was shooting at Eamon--because..." She draws in a breath and closes her eye for a moment. When she looks at Caty again, she says, "You're angry because we hurt someone you love. We acted the way we did because...we were hurt, too."
[15:13] Caty Weezles shook her head frantically as those tears dripped. She sniffed heavily and shot her arm out pointing and accusing, "You made blood! BLOOD! Blood makes people go away, you tried to make my daddy go away! Mister Eamon tried to make my daddy go away! God taked my mommy and I has to keep my daddy! YOU DONT GET TO TAKE MY DADDY! GOD CANT HAVE HIM TOO!" She screamed and shook. Clutching the music box as tightly as she could. It's sour notes somehow lifting high and matching the tension.
[15:16] Elise Capalini finds herself nodding, at everything Caty says. "Blood does make people go away," she says, lifting a hand to wipe the spilled tears from her cheek, "My daddy went away in blood." That night cuts across her vision and she takes a shuddering breath. "Caty, I'm so sorry...so sorry." Her voice breaks and she finds herself crying freely now, letting herself feel the fear from last week, showing Caty how it touched her too.
[15:19] Caty Weezles sucked in a hitched breath. Simply asking in that same choked voice, "Why Miss Elise? Why do you want to make my daddy go away from me?" Her nose stuffed, she wiped at it with the back of her hand.
[15:23] Elise Capalini lifts her head and wipes her cheek again. She presses her mouth into a thin line and exhales a shaky breath. "Not from you, Caty, never from you." Was Forge truly her father? She still couldn't fathom it, but -Caty- believed he was and that was all she needed to know. "He hurt...he was hurting someone I love," she whispers.
[15:24] Janeiro Renard walked slowly long the road infront of the cemetary, blue smoke wreathed around his head. He paused, spotting Caty through the bars of the wrought iron gate, and then spotted Elise, crying? His face remained impassive. Well. There was a lot to cry about these days.
[15:26] Caty Weezles: How many times had she heard this, and she repeated it. Lifting her chin to suck in a deep breath. She'd release the wall then and eyes turned narrow on Elise, "That makes it okay? To hurt cause you hurt?" How many times had her mother told her? "Not okay. Not OKAY! That's my daddy."
[15:29] Elise Capalini draws in another uneven breath and releases it slow. She nods at Caty, catching sight of Jan beyond her, wreathed in smoke like he's just stepped out of the underworld. "You're right, Caty--it's not right. I screwed up." She eyes the little girl, her own tears starting to subside. "I did something bad. What should my punishment be?"
[15:30] Janeiro Renard heard the girl's voice, and frowned deeply, as he began to trudge forward down the road. Punishment, he mused. Trying to do the right thing in this city is punishment enough.
[15:33] Caty Weezles blinked. Swollen eyes were red and looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders just then. Staring at Elise's form. She
settled some, her voice softened from the scream and accusatory tone, "You..." Sniff, "You has to go to jail. You and Mister Eamon has to go to jail cause you're bad. You shooted him. You made Mister Andrei go to sleep and not wake up." Confused still. "You has to say sorry to people you hurts."
[15:37] Elise Capalini folds her hands into her lap, but breathes easier when Caty's tone softens. "If someone hurts someone else...they have to say sorry?" she asks, trying to make sure she understands what Caty is saying. "The police are investigating the shooting, Caty, but they haven't come to arrest anyone yet."
[15:42] Caty Weezles: "But you shooted him. I sawed it. And Mister Lazyrus too cause he hurted me," She took a step forward. Staring down the form that was Elise, not wavering but she was tired. So tired of having to explain the world to adults. They were supposed to -know-. "You has to go there now cause you made him mad and made him bleed." She nodded though, "Yes, you have to say sorry. And you has to say that you won't do it again and /means/ it." Shoulders slumped and she ran fingers over the music box.
[15:45] Elise Capalini nods at Caty, wiping at her own cheek to dry more tears. She sniffles a little, very tired herself. "Does that mean your daddy has to say sorry, too? Lying is something people need to say sorry for too, right, Caty? Will he say sorry to me and Eamon?"
[15:48] Caty Weezles shoved at her face matching Elise' actions. Heel of her palm dragging across freckles, "Lying is little. Shooting is big." She canted her head, "Daddy doesn't lie to me. Daddy tells me whats right. Tinkerbell too. She was right too!"
[15:53] Elise Capalini watches Caty and exhales; she knows there will be no budging her mind on the matter of Forge and his honesty. "Everyone can only tell you what -they- think is right, and everyone will have a different opinion." She wondered if the girl would understand that. She dries her hand on her skirt , fingers tight in the fabric. "I have your picture, Caty." She would draw out the folded piece of paper and show it to her. "I found it in the pews."
[15:58] Caty Weezles: She would approach, hefting the bag onto her shoulder and clutching the music box. It still wasn't heavy. Something she could carry easily on a normal day. Today was in no way normal now. Everything since last week had tossed normalcy out the window for her. She peered down onto the page and shook her head when she looked onto the angel, "God taked her and Tinkerbell is going to be my mommy now and we has to go away again. Cause of blood. Cause of blood we all has to go away again. Caty didn't trip this time." She was okay with the fact that she didn't cause it. "Mister Eamon and Miss Elise made the blood. Mister Eamon and Miss Elise made us go 'way." Those brown eyes looked to Elise' and searched. She had stopped calling Eamon Father in the past week, she had stopped believing in many things. God's love - gone. Vanished with the sound of the gunshot. Her innocence, part of it, went too.
[16:04] Elise Capalini spreads out the drawing on the walk beside them, very careful of how she moves when Caty comes closer. Caty didn't trip this time, she thinks, and looks up at the little girl, wondering exactly what that means. "If Eamon and I go to jail, and you and daddy and Tinkerbell go away...that will make things better?" she asks. She looks into Caty's chocolate eyes, wondering how to bridge this chasm between them. "Caty...I'm sorry." Her voice is very soft, and sincere. The depth of what she's done to this girl hits her then, like a punch. "I mean it. I'm sorry for hurting you last Sunday. I never meant to do that."
[16:10] Caty Weezles: "No!" She stared at the picture for another moment, "You and Mister Eamon has to go to jail and WE stay then. That's how it works." She shuffled back again. Further away. A leary look given to Elise, "Maybe sometimes sorry isn't good enough. Maybe sometimes ..." She started to choke again, mouth opened and closed gasping for air, "It hurts so bad and it hurted." She shoved again at her cheek, "Your daddy went away. You know don't make blood. It hurts." Fingers found the key to the music box and she twisted it.
[16:15] Elise Capalini says softly, "Oh," and starts to fold the picture back up. She watches the paper, rather than Caty, feeling there is nothing to be said. Forge's hold on her is absolute. She wants to comfort the girl, hug her and calm her, but knows that touching her would be entirely the wrong thing. "The police will decide if we go to jail," she eventually says, the paper moving with a soft whisper against the stone. Her black nails gleam as she smooths a fold down. "Blood does hurt...sometimes it doesn't make sense, either."
[16:20] Caty Weezles: The bag shifted with her thumbs, she felt like she won something in some way. She was right. Blood hurt and Elise knew it. A huff of air blown out into a long stream and she started to back away. Her eyes were intense, pupils dialated and fixed on her. Reflecting emotions that they were both feeling in some way - somehow they shared the hurt from different sides. She tucked her chin to her chest, softly spoke, "You made Caty go away."
[16:25] Elise Capalini makes a final fold in the paper, and the paper slices into her finger. Blood wells bright against her pale flesh, and then soaks quickly into the paper itself. She winces at the sting of it, closing her hand into her skirt to stop the blood. She nods at Caty as the girl backs away. "I made Caty go away," she whispers, and bows her head, unable to look at the girl. "But Caty...not -all- cats are bad...don't think that. They're not." Her voice is choked with tears; there's little more she can say.
[16:30] Caty Weezles: She stared at folds of a memory as the blood laced Elise's white hand, one last word, "Elise has to go away now. Blood stains. And Elise goes away." Was only slightly above a whisper as she backed away. Far from the scenes others had seen her make about people bleeding. Right now, Elise -could- bleed ... it was okay.
[16:34] Elise Capalini swallows hard. "Elise goes away," she murmurs. She frowns and looks up, eye locking on Caty. She stands up and takes a step backward. "Goodbye, Caty." She doesn't pick up the paper; she leaves it on the walk as she heads back toward the church. Though not inside...she doesn't want to be inside just now.
A Southern Barred Frog, Mixophyes australis, from the Watagans National Park, New South Wales, Australia.
Like the Giant Barred Frog, this species has also declined, however disppearances have largely been restricted to the southern-half of its distribution (which may represent a distinct species from northern areas [two species are now recognised from 2023]). However, the species remains common in the rainforests of the Watagan Ranges and adjacent areas.
I had actually never photographed this species in the Watagans until I came across this individual. Thinking it was posing beautifully, I had a look over my photos later to see it was in the midst of devouring a spider, with the leg still hanging out of it's mouth!
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JULY 11: <> attends the 2022 Freeing Voices, Changing Lives Gala at Guastavino's on July 11, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
the horizon, and even the middle distance, really stuttering.
If you really want to see what I mean, view it in 'original' dimensions (10800 x 2460, under the 'download' button, then 'view all sizes'), find the horizon and scroll right-to-left.
it was all go on the lake the other day, with swans courting and chasing each other, grebes nest building, canada geese making a right racket and coots . . . well being coots
i think all the distractions may have caused this swan to lose concentration, as he tried to take off with his pall - he stuttered and fell back into the water as his friend took off!
he was perfectly fine, and flew off after a bit, even if he did look a bit embarrassed!
and after yesterdays shot – see below – gull strike again!
(PLEASE NO AWARDS OR PICTURES OR FLASHY BADGES)
Sketches by: Alex May / DARYL_GAMMA / Davide Della Casa / Dorkbot London / Jonny Stutters / Sally Northmore / Sophie McDonald
Original music by: Jonny Stutters, edited by Davide Della Casa
You can play/modify these sketches online at: www.sketchpatch.net
TD: Up next is Regine! Tell us something about yourself Regine!
Regine: Uhm.. Uhm.. *stutters* I'm Regine, 20 years old, a college student taking up Mathematics. I can solve Math problems from algebra to calculus.
TD: Wow so you're definitely smart. Why did you join this contest even though you're already smart?
Regine: I.. I want to prove that I'm more than just a Math girl. I can show my other side too.
TD: That's nice to see you breaking out of your shell. What is your advantage from the other girls?
Regine: I.. I believe that in every challenge there's an solution. Hopefully I can calculate what the judges want for me to win.
TD: What a deep answer. Have you seen any competition so far?
Regine: Pa.. Paola is my competition because she's confident and has a pleasing personality.
TD: Thank you Regine and good luck on this!
Meet The Cast Video: youtu.be/nzIQhnzhmmc
YOU CAN VOTE FOR MODEL OF THE WEEK BY CLICKING ON THIS LINK:
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a land called Tír Na Nóg there was a boy who lived in a sweet shop. He was a hapless, sweet stutterer, a nervous piebald boy, a speckled thing, pale skinned, and shy, freckled and ginger. He was a mammy’s boy, or at least one that only a mammy could love, or so he, and everyone else, thought. He was at that awkward age, although as far as he understood every age to that time, and including that present, had been awkward, in a trajectory that stammered forward, torn between the baby Jesus and Jellybean-stained rotting teeth. However, it was that particular age of burgeoning when things began to grow and nether regions sprouted rebelliously, and ginger started to assert itself around other outcrops, besides that on his crowning misery. Pubescence was raising its ugly and persistent head, dragging him away from his twin devotions to his own mother and the mother of his infant Saviour. Tumescent solace was initially found in the base of the old built-in wardrobe where he had once watched in awe as Tibbles gave birth to one of her many braces of, temporarily blind, kittens. This first solitary soiling, which occurred around midnight, as his brother’s slept in the next bed, Ruin having crept into the wardrobe to investigate strange rumblings in what he had been told (by the blessed Christian Brothers, his educators) was his 'base area'. This loaded description represented the total sum of his sex education at the time of this particular crisis. Obviously, something had snapped, something had been broken, there was a wetness. He instinctively knew that he had damaged himself and was probably bleeding to death in total darkness on that spot where Tibbles had created new life. Luckily his arsenal for such emergencies was, at that time, full, and the Blessed Virgin Mary was invoked, rudely awoken, and implored so that this cup might pass over, and that this ignominious death might not have to happen. It was Ruin Bon-Bon’s Gethsemane, and it was followed on closely by an orgy of rosaries, embracing the Joyful and the Glorious mysteries, feverishly intoned, until sleep mercifully and delicately intervened. The glowing dawn brought evidence that a miracle had truly occurred. Any ruddy stain of his brokenness had disappeared leaving just a slight stiffness in his ragged underwear. All sign of his sin had been removed by the BVM (Blessed Virgin Mary) herself. For weeks this nest at the base of the wardrobe would become a place of sanctuary and prayer, a place of devout pilgrimage and daily recitation of Hail Mary’s and Glory Be to the Fathers stuttered in gratitude for this divine intervention.
“I’m dying, I get to choose the video”.
Sitting bolt upright Jeffrey reasserted his dominance over the situation, silencing his parents. His mouth at the apex hushed the base of this inverted family triangle. That Jeffrey could sit bolt upright, at that moment, was somewhat of a miracle. His six-foot four-inch frame had been prone for weeks, reduced from its once impressive sixteen stone to a mere seven stone. ‘Singing in the Rain’ was inserted into that other gaping hole at the base of the television as Jeffrey collapsed back onto his re-adjusted pillows and his parents resettled themselves into their protracted vigil as Debbie Reynolds and her cohorts salved their shocked essences. I gasped, laughed, and loved, inwardly at Jeffrey’s delicious assertion, and made some tea to further salve and anaesthetize their whipped souls. For this was an age of soul whipping. It was a time when parents would find out, in the same week, that their only son was not only gay, but was also dying. It was a time when the usual divine-right-order of children burying their parents would be inverted repeatedly, and geriatrics would drag their weary carcasses from Virginian, or other, backwaters on invented shopping trips to the 'Big Apple', to secretly sit next to their emaciated progeny. It was a time of great shame.
How do I describe Rack? There is thirty-five years of evidence to sift through, but these were years that could be described as life lived ‘in extremis’. Maybe this is not true. I am not even sure of this. Perhaps dealing with your friends in their twenties and thirties dying all around you is normal. Maybe HIV was just our generation’s Vietnam. Rack owns this story with me, I think of it as ‘our’ story. It is not my story alone. It is simply a story, a fiction clinging onto a battered, and battering, ‘reality’.
Jeffrey didn’t die at the beginning of this tale, but I need to ‘kill’ him here. I injected morphine into his chest through a catheter, set up by his doctor in our loft in Manhattan, to help him die. There was little choice, he was about to universally hemorrhage and the only way to stop this sanguine explosion was to slow down his vital signs so that coma and release could happen, otherwise he would have bled through every orifice. His parents asked me to assist him and absented themselves to their hotel, or disappeared by going on a shopping trip to ‘Bergdorf Goodmans’. Although I was HIV negative at the time, and would remain negative for another ten years yet, his parents needed to blame me for Jeffrey’s condition. I recognize that they needed to blame someone, and I was the closest to hand. The poor maligned cuckoo in the nest is not always the culprit. These negotiations were not particularly delicate, it seemed that most accommodations were reached in a state of numbness, and we despised each other for our tacit agreements.
How do you describe ‘damage control’ without making it sound pathetic? How do you find the words to describe that accommodation which is an act of mutual abuse based on trust and which is an attempt to reverse that initial damage? The only way forward is to describe an inter-weaving, time strands taken from different ages and woven and plaited into a whole, which might describe the healed self in tandem with the healed and healing other, that is your abuser and object of your abuse. I am talking about a reversal, a road back from abuse but through abuse, it is the only way back. Attached to the Gordian knot of the self, blind and trusting, walking backwards to the healed and knowing self, to a point of innocence and enlightenment. This is what I want to attempt to do with this story. I am not going to judge it until it is finished. I am not going to allow her to judge it either. Otherwise, we would both turn into pillars of salt, blubbering salt licks.
Ok Beatrice, AKA Rack, get your blindfold on. We have some backward walking to do.
It seems that from the moment we met we were screaming, love me, don’t love me, at each other.
Time strands.
Memory has a renegade nature. It teases and occasionally attacks in blinding, apparently inconsequential, flashes. It is never persistent enough to demand honouring. It presents itself, skittishly. It never pretends or admits to its worth. It is like gold masquerading as fool’s gold, Dutch metal, teasing you to pick it up, downplaying its own value. We are prospectors of our own memories, we sieve diligently or allow it all to flow through our fingers unchecked, malnourished, and dishonoured. Prospecting is an art form. It demands discipline and commitment. Seams open slowly, they are teased open, until they are seduced and are capable of self-lubrication and discharge. Memory wants to be seduced. The first demand that memory makes on the seducer is that she be respected, no matter how skittish she might appear. The seducer of memory picks up on every sign, constantly moving forward, in the hope that he might deserve, or earn, the right to remember more.
Hail Queen of heaven, the ocean star
Guide of the wanderer here below!
Thrown on life's surge we claim thy care
Save us from peril and from woe
Mother of Christ
Star of the sea
Pray for the wanderer
Pray for me!
O gentle chaste and spotless maid
We sinners make our prayers through Thee
Remind thy Son that He has paid
The price of our iniquity
Virgin most pure
Star of the sea
Pray for the sinner
O pray for me!
Ruin’s mother had always claimed that we all have a book in us. His mother left school at twelve, though her affinity with words was never obviously lacking. It was this statement of hers that infected him early on, although there were no books in the house. She never much valued learning and when he told her he wanted to go to university her response was, "‘sure ‘n’ learning will never make you happy, don’t you know ignorance is bliss?". Even then he loved the way she simply inverted the cliché in an effort to back him into a civil service position and pension. As things turned out she was right (ish). For her, being the oldest of seventeen children, bliss was a gaggle of well-fed offspring contributing to the support of that communist whole. Too much education was the obvious enemy of this Pol Pottish idyll. The contradiction of having a mammy, who stood peeling the potatoes for her brood, in those heady days before ‘McCain Oven Chips’© made their ascension, singing ‘One Fine Day’ from Madame Butterfly, may have added to his confusion and later aspirations. The sins of the mother and absent father were to be visited on the son.