Newspaper Clipping of the Thanksgiving Day

Via Newspapers.com

Just a little Thanksgiving enigma from days gone by, courtesy of the “Daily Florida Citizen,” December 11, 1895:

From the New York Sun. 

Just beyond the curve where the upbound Sixth-Avenue trains swing into West Third Street stands a three-story frame house. It is one of very few remnants of the early growth of the city in that district. Weather-beaten, paintless, and rotten from age, it shivers with the fear of falling in ruins whenever a train rumbles past. Almost on a level with the track is a queer dormer window with a dappling half curtain which in turn conceals the interior; a shadowy room furnished with a couple of rack-jointed chairs, washstand, and a cot, evidently somebody's home. Thousands of people traveling up and down town must have noticed that room, its ancient bareness open to the gaze. 

The occupant probably works all day and goes to bed in the dark. No one is to be seen in that room during the sunlight hours, and the window darkens with the setting sun. For reasons easily to be guessed from the nature of the curtain, the inmate of the room would not care to light up when retiring. Open as the room is to the public view, as a home it is a sealed secret, or was until last week. Then a sign appeared in the ancient window: 

One of the thousands who at one time or another looked in the window as the train slowed up for the curve is a Wall Street broker, who every afternoon at little after 4 takes the elevated at Rector Street, and rides to his home up town. Being fond of fresh air, he frequently rides on the platform, and because he is wide of eye and open of mind and imagination he spends his traveling hours taking an interest in what he sees. The old frame house with its quaint window had appealed to him for one reason, because his boyhood had thrived on the air that wafted in with the odor of apple bloom or sharp through just such a window, heavy with the odor of apple bloom or sharp with the frost of a merry Christmas and a frozen one. Then, too, the house and its neighbors were a little cluster of the slums, such as he saw nowhere else in his busy life, for there are slums in West Third Street as wretched and as wicked as any in New York. So he glanced into the window frequently as the train rattled past, and wondered who called the dark attic closet on the other side of it a home, until, with constant speculation, fortified by never a sight of life within, he came to regard it as a deserted bit in the midst of the teeming streets.  It was quite a shock to him, therefore, when the big sign appeared in the window. A personality had suddenly invaded his desert. 

The next morning, coming down on the train. a banker friend of his asked him if he had ever noticed that queer little house around the Third-Street curve.

"How do you know about it?" demanded the broker, with a feeling that he had been divested of his proprietary interest.

“One might suppose you owned that house from your tone,” said the banker. "I've had my eye on that window long before you ever saw it." 

"Nonsense." retorted the other, and they were still discussing it when two more Wall-Street men got aboard and joined in. Both of them had peeked through the little dormer window, as they confessed. and had frequently wondered who lived inside. Before the train reached Third Street there were seven financiers exchanging notes about the place, and all seven read the sign again as they rolled by. 

"Contributions received? Why shouldn't we contribute?" demanded the banker of his companions after the curve had hid the house from their view. It was all decided in a short time. The consensus of opinion was that $15 ought to buy a very good Thanksgiving dinner, so they put in $2 apiece and drew lots to see who should pay the odd dollar. On the day before Thanksgiving they were to go up together in the train, and the man who used to be a college baseball pitcher was to toss the money, tied up in a silk handkerchief, into the window. It was the suggestion of one of the younger members of the syndicate that a note be enclosed hinting that the beneficiary, by appearing at the window at 4:30 on the day after Thanksgiving and watching for the elevated train, might have the opportunity to thank the contributors.  This, he pointed out,  would show them what the inmate of that mysterious room was. In vain, did the broker object on the ground that he didn't want his mystery spoiled. 

"Probably it's a professional beggar," he said.

"Or a frizzled old maid," suggested the banker. 

“Or a practical joke."

“I believe it's a young and beautiful maiden wrongly restrained from her liberty and the princely family estate at Hohokus by the machinations of the false and dyed-in-the-wool-(meaning the mustache) villain who is keeping her in seclusion and trying to bully her into marrying him,” asseverated the junior member. “Anyway, I think we've a right to find out.”

They met on the day before Thanksgiving and went up on the train. The ex-pitcher, who had been practicing with bean bags in his front hall, hurled the packet true and straight in at the window as the train went by. Was it with the eye of imagination that the junior member saw a glint of golden hair in the ray of light that pierced the room? The banker said it was, adding reflections as to the unwisdom of hitting the wassail bowl before dinner.

Nevertheless, this rumor added to the eagerness with which the seven awaited the time set for the solving of the mystery. On the following Friday at 4:30 the platform of the up-bound elevated train carried seven Wall-Street men who took up so much room that the guard was fain to step inside. As the train neared the curve they pressed forward. The car turned, swung, and then there was a long, low whistle from the broker, and a long, low silence from the rest. In the window, hanging by its neck, was the clean-picked skeleton of a huge turkey bearing on its mighty breastbone a placard inscribed:

The mystery was unsolved. The junior member of the syndicate, who doesn't really believe that Sherlock Holmes is dead at all, is going to advertise him to come over here and see about it.

Newspaper Clippings of the Thanksgiving Day

I always say, what better way to spend tomorrow’s holiday than by musing on the various ways your dinner can kill you?  The “Blue-Grass Clipper,” December 10, 1903:

Be careful when you go to kill your Christmas turkey. George Whitmore was scratched by the claws of the one he was preparing for his Thanksgiving dinner. Blood poisoning ensued which resulted in his death a few days later.

This next story can be summarized in two sentences:  Mrs. Frank T. Kuhen thought she knew how to properly can asparagus.  She didn’t.

The "Spokesman-Review," December 1, 1910, via Newspapers.com

The “Daily Milwaukee News” for December 1, 1866, noted that one Thanksgiving turkey nearly accomplished a fatal revenge:

Thanksgiving dinners, like all other events with which human agency is connected, are subject to catastrophes. On Thursday a gentleman residing in the Third Ward, having returned from service at the Union Baptist church, sat down with his family to accomplish the consumption of a turkey formidable in size and desperate to the last, as the conclusion very nearly proved. Having served the remainder of the family at table, he helped himself to a generous thank offering and proceeded to consume it.

While engaged in eating he attempted to swallow a mouthful which contained a fragment of bone. The hard substance lodged in the larynx and nearly produced death by suffocation. A physician was immediately sent for, and the bone extracted by a painful operation. The sufferer is now doing well, although yesterday morning his throat was so swollen that he could hardly speak.

Another Thanksgiving feast that ended prematurely appeared in the “Cincinnati Enquirer,” November 26, 1910:

Logansport, Ind., November 25.--Contrary to the advice of her physician and relatives, Mrs. Rose Blouser, aged 69, who has been bedfast for a year, insisted on sitting up and eating Thanksgiving dinner with the family. While at the table she collapsed and died a few minutes later.

This next story carries a moral: If one of your dinner companions appears to be choking to death, do not instantly assume they are joking.  The “Times and Democrat,” December 2, 1886:

Chicago, November 27.- -A fatal accident occurred Thanksgiving evening at the Centre House on Blue Island Avenue. A number of young men there were celebrating Thanksgiving dinner when one of them. Mr. Frederick W. Charlis, a French-Canadian, accidentally swallowed a part of the breast bone of a turkey. The young man's companions, observing his distress, but considering it more assumed than real, sent one of their number for a veterinary surgeon residing in the vicinity. The surgeon promptly responded, and taking a humorous view of the situation proceeded to apply a stomach pump, to the evident amusement of all present. Fred Sawyer, a half-brother of the afflicted young man, appeared upon the scene at this stage of the proceedings, and interposed an indignant protest against the method of treatment pursued by the surgeon, and that gentleman gathered up his instruments and beat a retreat.

By this time the young man's condition became painfully apparent to his companions and a regular physician was hastily summoned, but before he arrived the young man died in the arms of his half brother.

One doctor’s involuntary contribution to medical science was reported in the “San Francisco Examiner,” December 9, 1906:

NEW YORK, December 8. Noting with professional interest every phase of his malady, Dr. Edward J. McDonough of 304 East Seventy-ninth street, died yesterday of acute indigestion, caused by injudicious eating of Thanksgiving dinner.

The physician, whose reputation, professional and charitable, was very high, ate heartily of turkey on Thursday. At 11:33 p.m. he returned to his home, and with his two sisters, with whom he lived, ate of the cold bird.  He then retired. Yesterday morning he was heard groaning. He could scarcely rise from bed.

At his request the sisters got his instrument case. Dr. McDonough diagnosed the attack, took his own temperature, and then sent for a colleague, who agreed with him that acute indigestion was the trouble. The physician bravely bore up, and until insensibility overtook him observed every symptom and reported to Dr. J. L. Wollheim, who had been called. Knowing that death was imminent, Dr. McDonough determined that his last acts should be directed toward furthering the knowledge of his profession.

After all these warnings about the dangers of eating turkey, you’re probably thinking you’ll be safe sticking to dessert, right?  Well, just to completely ruin your Thanksgiving, I present the most epic anti-holiday pie rant I have ever been privileged to read.  The “Santa Cruz Weekly Sentinel,” November 25, 1882:

Thanksgiving Day is the one national festival which is peculiarly and thoroughly American. Other nations undergo annual sufferings from noise and gunpowder which are analogous to those which are associated in our minds with Fourth of July. Christmas is the common property of the Christian world, although Russia celebrates her Christmas some weeks later than other nations, in order that Russians residing in foreign countries may obtain a double supply of Christmas presents. Thanksgiving Day, however, was the invention of the New England colonists, and though it has since been universally adopted by the American people, no other nation has imitated it. We alone express our annual gratitude by the sacrifice of turkeys, and it is, hence, greatly to be desired that the one exclusively American festival should be in all respects perfect and beyond reproach.

It is impossible to deny that in active practice our method of celebrating the day is open to one serious objection. In spite of the progress which we have made towards a higher morality than that of the last century, we still adhere, on Thanksgiving Day, to one barbarous and demoralizing ceremony. To a great extent the hot New-England rum of our forefathers is banished from our dinner-tables, but the no less deadly and demoralizing pie forms part of every Thanksgiving dinner, no matter how moral and intelligent its consumers may believe themselves to be.

The Thanksgiving array of pie is usually of so varied, as well as lavish a nature, that it seems cunningly devised to entrap even the most innocent palate. If mince-pie alone were set before a virtuous family, it is quite probable that many of its members would have the courage to turn in loathing from the deadly compound, but the Thanksgiving mince-pie is always accompanied or preceded by lighter pies, in which weak-minded persons think they can indulge without injury. The thoughtless matron—for thoughtlessness, and not deliberate wickedness, is indicated by the presence of Thanksgiving pie—urges her guests to take a little chicken-pie, assuring them that it cannot injure a child. The guest who tampers with the chicken-pie is inevitably lost. The chicken-pie crust awakens an unholy hunger for fiercer viands, and when the meats are removed, he is ready and anxious for undiluted apple or pumpkin pie. From that to mince-pie the transition is swift and easy, and in nine cases out of ten the man who attends a Thanksgiving dinner and is lured into touching chicken-pie abandons all self-restraint and delivers himself up to the thraldom of a fierce longing for strong and undisguised mince-pie. Hundreds of men and women who had emancipated themselves by a tremendous effort of the will from the dominion of pie, have backslidden at the Thanksgiving dinner, and have returned to their former degradation with a fiercer appetite than ever, and with little hope that they can find sufficient strength for a second effort towards reformation.

The chief evil of the Thanksgiving display of pie is, however, its terrible influence upon the young. It is a well-known fact, however revolting it may seem when rehearsed in cold blood, that on Thanksgiving Day many a foolish mother has herself pressed pie to the lips of her innocent offspring. To the taste thus created thousands of victims of the pie habit ascribe their ruin. It is a common spectacle on Thanksgiving evening to see scores of children, mere babes in years, writhing under the influence of pie, and making the night hideous with their outcries. Physicians can testify to the appalling results of the pie orgies in which children are thus openly encouraged to take part. The amount of drugs which is consumed by the unhappy little victims on the day following Thanksgiving Day would fill the public with horror were the exact figures to be published. How can we wonder that children who are thus tempted to acquire the taste for pie by their own parents grow up to be shameless and habitual consumers of pie! The good matron who sees a haggard and emaciated man slink into a public pie shop, and presently emerge brushing the tell-tale crumbs from his beard, shudders to think that the unhappy wretch was once as young and innocent as her own darling children. And yet that very matron will sit at the foot of a Thanksgiving table groaning with pie, and will deal out the deadly compound to her children without a thought that she is awakening in them a depraved hunger that will ultimately lead them straight to the pie shop.

All the efforts of good men and women to stay the torrent of pie which threatens to engulf our beloved country will be in vain, unless the reform is begun at the Thanksgiving dinner-table. Pie must be banished from that otherwise innocent board, or it is in vain that we try to banish it from shops, restaurants, and hotels. May we not hope for a great moral crusade which will sweep pie from every virtuous table, and unite all the friends of morality in a vigorous and persistent attack upon the great evil of the land.

I hope this post has inspired all my fellow Americans to celebrate the holiday in appropriate style.  I think we’re allowed a few peas and a glass of water.

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

Thanksgiving ghost stories are disappointingly scarce, but I did find this brief, but enticing example in the “Salt Lake Telegram,” December 4, 1902:

GENEVA, NY., Dec 4--As the southbound train on the Lehigh Valley was approaching Marsh Creek the engineer and fireman heard a sharp scream ahead. They saw a tall, white-robed figure standing at the east side of the bridge frantically waving its arms.  The engineer brought the train to a standstill. As he did so the specter gave another shriek and disappeared.

An investigation of the track and bridge disclosed no trace of the mysterious figure, but as the train passed over the bridge the same shriek was heard. It was learned that every year about Thanksgiving day the figure appears. A fireman once lost his life in the quicksand there when an engine went off Marsh bridge and the body never was recovered.

Newspaper Clippings of the Thanksgiving Day

Via Newspapers.com

Most people think of our American Thanksgiving Day as a pleasant, if slightly dull, holiday.  Nothing happens except lots of food and zoning out on the living room couch afterwards.  The only dark side comes from the prospect of three weeks of turkey hash.

These people have not read old newspaper archives, which present Thanksgiving as a festival of assaults, human body parts, and--my favorite tradition--the turkey’s revenge.

An all-too-typical holiday story is this item from the “Los Angeles Times,” November 25, 1955:

HOUSTON. Nov. 24.  One Houstonian ate turkey today with a fractured collarbone. 

His wife sent him to market for a 15-pound turkey. He returned with a frozen 9-pounder, and his wife threw it at him.

Later, at a hospital, the man said he intended to go ahead with the holiday feast “as planned.”

No, I do not know what “as planned” meant, and I frankly do not want to know.  Another couple that just should not spend family holidays together was noted in the “Buffalo News,” January 26, 1997:

SMITHSBURG — A Hagerstown woman was charged with second-degree assault on Wednesday night after her husband was struck in the forehead with a Scrabble game board, according to the Washington County Sheriff's Department. The incident happened when the man tried to restrain the woman after she threw the Thanksgiving turkey into the yard.

And here was one family where the corpse at Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t that of a turkey.  The “Call-Leader,” January 11, 1983:

EVANSVILLE, Ind. (AP)-Shirley Jean Cox says she's had it with those portions of corpses stored in her refrigerator-freezer and with having them transported in her truck. The Republican Vanderburgh County commissioner, who is married to Deputy Coroner Earl Cox, said she's tired of using her home as an impromptu morgue. "At Thanksgiving, instead of having a turkey in my freezer, I had to clear out a space to have body parts," she said.

From a vegetarian’s point of view, it’s time to look at the bright side of Thanksgiving.  The “Redwood City Tribune,” November 28, 1923:

SAN JOSE. Nov. 28 A. Pichetti, local automobile dealer, has a grudge against turkeys in general and one in particular as a result of a battle his new automobile had with one of the holiday birds on West Santa Clara street yesterday.   A turkey got loose from its crate near where Pichetti’s machine was parked. The bird made straight for his car, smashing the door of the car with the first blow. Then the turkey proceeded to ruin the finish on the car. As a result of the bird's scratches, Pichetti’s automobile is in the paint shop today.

If you really want to experience Thanksgiving at its most Grand Guignol, you can’t do better than this story from the “Times Record News,” November 25, 1943:

SHREVEPORT La Nov 24—A big white turkey gobbler got his Thanksgiving Day revenge. And he did it all after his head had been cut off. 

They chopped his head off behind a local grocery on Highland Avenue. But the turkey died fighting. 

He threw his 20 pounds against Juanita White, cook at the grocery and spectator at his execution, knocked her down and sent her to the hospital with an ankle broken in two places. 

The big gobbler got revenge too against H. B. Badt, manager of the store. Badt sent the crippled cook rushing to the hospital in his car. On the way It was torn up in a collision with another automobile. 

Juanita has a broken ankle that will lay her up for about 10 weeks; Badt has no car; the store is short a good cook.

And then there’s this item from the “Knoxville News-Sentinel,” April 27, 1992:

POTOSI, Mo.—A man showing off a turkey he thought he had killed was shot In the leg when the wounded bird thrashed around in his car trunk and triggered his shotgun. 

“The turkeys are fighting back.” said Sheriff Ron Skiles. 

To make matters worse, it turns out Larry Lands, in his early 40s, and his 16-year-old son Larry Jr. were hunting a week before the start of turkey season and will probably be fined, the sheriff said.

The accident occurred recently after the Lands shot the turkey and put it in the car along with a loaded shotgun. They drove to a neighbor's house to show the bird off. 

While the son was pulling the turkey out of the trunk, it began struggling, according to the sheriff, and its claw fired the gun. The shot went through the side panel of the car and into the father’s leg. 

Lands Sr was in satisfactory condition in the hospital.

And finally, let us marvel at this epic tale of vengeance that is positively Shakespearean.  The “Dakota Farmers’ Leader,” September 10, 1909:

Does a turkey gobbler possess the same remarkable mental faculties as does the elephant? A turkey on the farm of Amos Hollister, near Benton, Wash., was teased into anger over seven years ago by a little girl with yellow curls. The other day the same little girl, now grown into womanhood, wearing the dresses of the day's style, appeared upon the lawn of the same farm and was attacked by a gobbler enraged beyond all turkey sense, and continued the fight until he was subdued and placed in a pen. Over seven years ago Miss Elsie Gunther visited the farm of her uncle and teased the gobbler with a cane which had ribbons tied to it. The turkey chased her around the barnyard. 

The incident was forgotten and school work and business kept the niece from again visiting her uncle until seven years had passed. Miss Gunther, free from school duties and languishing for the free air of the country, went to the Benton farm last week. The first thing she did was to trip across the barnyard toward the cow pens as she had done years ago. Before she was across the lawn a big turkey gobbler, the same one which attacked her seven years ago, flew at her face and struck her a blow that almost threw her into a heap. The turkey continued his attack until Hollister captured and imprisoned him.

And that’s it for Thanksgiving 2022!  If you celebrate the holiday, please do so wisely.  Hide the Scrabble board.  And whatever you do, don’t tease the turkeys.

Newspaper Clippings of the Thanksgiving Day

"Arizona Republic," November 23, 1995, via Newspapers.com

Those of you familiar with this blog know that I consider  Fourth of July to be the most lethal of all holidays (and God knows I have posted enough evidence to prove it.)  However, in recent years I have come to appreciate the body-count possibilities of that other all-American celebration, Thanksgiving.  In Novembers past, I have chronicled weaponized turkeys, fatal quarrels over the dinner table, and shootouts at turkey raffles.  This year, I will share with you yet another beloved Thanksgiving tradition:  exploding birds.  

The “Medford Mail Tribune,” November 30, 1958:

Thanksgiving Day, a 30-pound turkey caught fire in the oven of a local resident. In the process of extinguishing the flaming bird, smoke filled the house. The owner, to make things a little more pleasant inside, opened the house doors, and took a broom to help circulate the air. 

In the process of shooing smoke from one room, the broom struck a light fixture, tinkling it to the floor. 

It was the third turkey the family attempted to cook without success. But the family's courageous; they plan to try again someday to cook a turkey, to prove to themselves it can be done.

I have one word for this unnamed family: takeout, gang.  Takeout.  

The “News-Palladium,” November 24, 1967:

SOUTH HAVEN-Volunteer firemen were called to the home of Isaac Merritt, 420 Edgell street, about 2:10 p.m. Thursday, after the grease from a turkey caught fire in the kitchen stove. Firemen said they used a smoke ejector to clear the house of smoke. Damage was limited to one Thanksgiving dinner.

As you will see below, Isaac got off easy.  The “Pittsburgh Press,” November 23, 1973:

BOWIE, Md. (UPI)-James and Iva Savage spent Thanksgiving with their seven children in a Red Cross shelter after a baking turkey burst into flames and started a fire that destroyed their home and all their belongings. 

Officials of the Prince George's County fire department said Mrs. Savage had started her turkey Wednesday night and about 1:30 yesterday morning, while her husband and children were asleep, went into the kitchen to baste the bird. But when she poured cooking oil on the turkey it burst into flames, which quickly spread through their small house. She quickly awakened her husband and children and got them to safety but everything they owned was destroyed. Damage was estimated at $20,000.

Some turkeys are incendiary devices; others are bombs.  The Fort Myers “News Press,” November 24, 1952:

Anything can happen around a turkey ranch, even a call from an irate customer who wails that her dressed turkey has exploded. It happened last winter to Mr. and Mrs. John H. Tice, who turn out 600 to 1,000 turkeys a year for the holiday markets. 

The Tices specialize in what they call "oven-ready" birds dressed, refrigerated and cellophane-wrapped at the efficient little packing establishment they have set up on the Peters farm near Olga, where they have raised 1,000 birds this year for the Thanksgiving and Christmas markets. 

On a Sunday morning which the Tices will never forget their phone rang and a woman's voice reported frantically: "That turkey I bought from you just blew up in the oven!" It turned out that the customer, taking the "oven-ready" label a little too literally, had put the bird into the oven cellophane and all. The cellophane bag, under heat pressure, swelled, then exploded.

"Herald and Review," November 23, 1972

Sometimes, Mother Nature gets a little help from Human Stupidity.  The “Orlando Sentinel,” November 15, 1958:

ROME (U.P.) Meo Pasquetti, a poultry dealer, got the idea of blowing up his turkeys with a pump so as to sell them the more easily. Everything went well until a turkey exploded and a piece of bone injured his assistant's eyes.

This Thanksgiving horror story--more detailed and baroque than most--appeared in the Stockton “Evening Mail,” November 30, 1911:

The noise of a frightful explosion at the home of Joshua Jones, No. 1482 South Commerce street, shortly before noon today attracted several of his neighbors to the house. 

On entering they found everything in confusion, with a strong smell of gas. Investigation disclosed the fact that the Thanksgiving turkey had exploded just as Josh was about to carve it. Josh was considerably surprised, but not so much so that he wasn't able to grab a leg as it sped by his head. It is a very bleak day when Jones lets a turkey get away from him in its entirety. 

Young Johnny Jones also showed some speed and was able to annex a large hunk of the white meat before it hit the floor. It had already made a dent in the ceiling. 

Mrs. Jones had been fasting for that turkey all day, and when she recovered from the first shock she stabbed the carcass with a fork and a come-here-to-you motion. She also scraped a large chunk of stuffing from under her chin about a foot under. 

Sally Jones was never known to lose out on a turkey yet, and when she saw the bird start towards the roof she spread her apron and caught a meaty shower in it, to say nothing of a daub of dressing that landed in her eye. 

Willie Jones had his mouth open at the moment of the explosion, and the whereabouts of the piece known as the "popes nose” is still a matter of conjecture. 

Jones says he can only account for the upheaval in turkey on the hypothesis that the cook blew out the gas and some of it accumulated in the bird, a spark from the steel igniting it when he was sharpening up for the post-mortem. 

 

The Mail had four reporters and a staff artist on the scene before the remains were scraped off the walls. And they would have been on hand sooner had they had any inkling of what had happened. 

In an exclusive interview Josh said: "It's nobody's damn business.” 

Later, just before the Mail went to press, Mrs. Jones, who was given the third degree by the police, admitted that she had found the bird so tough that she put nitroglycerin in the dressing in the hope that it would assist the carver. Jones refused to be interviewed again.

Naturally, of course, some households prefer to take matters out of the turkey’s hands, uh, claws, and ruin the Thanksgiving themselves.  The “Greenwood Commonwealth,” November 23, 1956:

CAMDEN, N. J., Nov. 23--The way the police heard.it, Mrs. Asa Redrow decided she'd had enough husbandly advice on how to roast the Thanksgiving turkey.  She threw the bird at her husband. Redrow ducked. The turkey crashed through a kitchen window. 

Redrow faced a hearing today on assault and battery charges. Mrs. Redrow said he struck her.

I hope all my readers in the U.S. have a happy Thanksgiving dinner.  Here at Strange Company HQ, we will be tucking into, not turkey, but a homemade nut loaf.

Safer.

Newspaper Clippings of the Thanksgiving Day

"York Dispatch," November 28, 1905.  (All clippings via Newspapers.com)

 

When normal people think of Thanksgiving, they picture large family dinners, a relaxing day watching football in front of the TV, a general atmosphere of comfort and contentment.

Me, I picture turkeys being used as lethal weapons and guided missiles.  The "Passaic Herald-News," November 23, 1956:

This inventive lady celebrated the holiday by weaponizing a turkey and a Scrabble board!

"Tampa Bay Times," January 26, 1997.  Sadly, history does not record why she threw the turkey.

This wife managed to include the whole damn dinner in her assault.  William was wise to file for divorce before Christmas.  Heaven only knows what plans his spouse had for the tree.

"Dayton Herald," December 16, 1913

More proof that Thanksgiving turkeys and divorce go together like potatoes and gravy:

"Hackensack Record," September 2, 1926

"Dad, what was your most memorable Thanksgiving ever?"

"Newark Advocate," November 26, 1982

Some holiday dinners really escalate quickly.

"Kansas City Times," November 24, 1972

If this headline doesn't turn all of you into vegetarians, I don't know what will.

"Santa Cruz Sentinel," November 24, 1964

And, finally, an obviously much-needed reminder that Thanksgiving dishes are meant for eating, not cold-cocking your loved ones.   May all my American readers have a happy, calorie-filled holiday!

"Louisville Courier-Journal," November 28, 1935

Newspaper Clipping of the Thanksgiving Day

Via Newspapers.com

Yes, Florida Man celebrates Thanksgiving in just the way you'd imagine. Daniel Buckley in the "Tuscon Citizen," November 27, 1997:

It’s likely my life’s “David Lynch Moment" was Thanksgiving of 1989.

My dad had died that summer. I was in Cocoa Beach Fla spending time with my mother as she dealt with her first Thanksgiving without him. It was not an easy trip.

I figured we’d run to the store, pick up a turkey, spend the day cooking it up, and chow down just as we’d done countless Thanksgivings in years past with my three brothers and two sisters.

Florida reality check time. I was quickly informed that my mom had transcended the standard Thanksgiving trip years before.

It turns out she always hated Thanksgiving--all the work, all the hubbub. She was not at all nuts about turkey and even less enthusiastic about cooking doing the dishes and all that. And so for years she and my dad had gone out so they could get what they want and just kick back.

Being practical children of the Depression she and her next-door neighbor Pearl decided we’d head to Furr’s Cafeteria for Thanksgiving and avoid the fuss. So around noon we wandered out from my mom’s seaside condo, hopped in her Mercury, and drove to Furr’s.

So far so serene. But the weirdness was not far off. I ran ahead to hold the door for my mom and Pearl. As they went through I caught out of the comer of my eye the image of several other people approaching. Without looking around I just held the door.

When the trio finally came into view, YOW! There was a man about 50 years old in full-tilt drag pushing two wheelchairs. One held an old woman who looked pretty out of it. The other was occupied by an elegantly dressed mannequin. I have NO idea.

The guy had on a white blouse, long skirt, and heels and was sporting an 8 o’clock shadow. He was a manly looking woman.

As luck would have it they stayed on our heels all the way through the line at Furr’s, so there was a long period when nothing could be discussed.

Pearl--a boisterous woman with a laugh as big as all outdoors--had all she could do to contain her amazement/amusement. My mom was tickled too. Sad as it was it was also a hilarious scene.

They sat nearby, a tray in front of all three. All through our meal we talked quietly about it and observed many in other parts of the room doing the same. It certainly kept the focus off my father’s absence and I was happy for that.

It felt very strange trying to imagine the situation. From the gentleman's awkward negotiation of the halls I could tell the heels were not an everyday thing. It’s hard enough to push two wheelchairs let alone in heels.

My best guess is that the old woman so needed the illusion of having her two daughters take her to Thanksgiving dinner that some caring man had gone to great lengths to make such a situation unfold before her. God only knows.

Florida has its share of crazies. All parts of this country do.

It could be we just walked in on some very weird family scene. But I can’t help thinking we’d seen a bizarre expression of extraordinary compassion.

And it may have just as easily been the other way around. It could be that the lady in the wheelchair was the one with the grip on reality and that the man in the dress was someone she looked after.

We left before they did.

To this day as Thanksgiving approaches we all have a laugh about it. But we also can’t help but be touched and moved by it. They kept to themselves as did we I guess we’ll never know.

Newspaper Clipping(s) of the Day, Thanksgiving Edition

Welcome to Strange Company's annual celebration of our American holiday of Thanksgiving! If you are familiar with this blog, you already know what that means.

Weaponized turkeys.

The "Williamsburg Sun-Gazette," December 26, 1911:

Bloomfield, N.J., Dec. 25--On his way home with a twenty-pound turkey Saturday night Harry Stanislaus sacrificed the bird to save himself from being bitten by a savage dog which attacked him near his home in Chapel street.

The dog leaped at the man's throat, but Mr. Stanislaus got out of the way, and then when it jumped again he used the turkey as a weapon and showered blow after blow on the animal, finally causing it to sneak away.

There was not enough left of the fowl, however, to make soup.

If there's one thing I've learned from writing this blog, it's that turkeys are a must for self-defense. The "Republican and Herald," December 2, 1912:

Richfield, N. J., Dec. 2. With a turkey as a weapon, John Moran, a farmland, kept a highwayman at bay and saved his wallet, containing $32.60, which he had received only a short time previous from his employer for his month's work. Moran was walking over a lonely stretch of road toward Paterson, and when he approached the railroad tracks the highwayman jumped out from behind a tree and demanded his money. Moran swung his turkey and landed on the fellow's head with such force as to knock him down. He then dropped the bird and pummeled the would-be thief with his fists and afterward he continued his journey without further molestation.

From the "New York Tribune," November 27, 1903:

Bloomfield, N.J., Nov. 26--Moses De Witt, a colored man, whose home is in the Bowery district of this town, is now a firm believer in the luck attached to the number thirteen. On the thirteenth of the month De Witt bought a ticket for a raffle for a turkey. He paid thirteen cents for it and won the bird, which tipped the scales exactly at thirteen pounds. The number thirteen figured in the affair in other ways, too. On the way home, in passing the bridge over Second River at Henry st., he was stopped by two men, one of whom asked him the time. He informed him and was about to pass on when the fellows both attacked him and endeavored to take the watch away from him. De Witt was taken by surprise, but not so much as his assailants were when the old man suddenly gripped the turkey firmly by the legs and then laid about him right and left, using the bird as a weapon. The highwaymen took to their heels and the turkey graced the table at the De Witt home. "If anything, the use I made of the turkey," said De Witt, "only served to make it more tender."

Now there's a cooking tip I'll bet never occurred to Martha Stewart.

[Note: All items via Newspapers.com]

The "New York Tribune," December 1, 1899:

James Cannon, fifty-eight years old, of No. 3 First St., Hoboken, and his wife, Ellen, eight years his junior, spent yesterday afternoon and last evening at Hoboken Police Headquarters because Mrs. Cannon did not cook a Thanksgiving turkey to suit the taste of her husband. The police say that when Cannon tried to carve the bird he first found fault because it was not properly basted, and then because the turkey was tough. Finally the husband, according to his wife, seized the cooked fowl by a leg and struck her over the head with it. Policemen Borrune and Kiely were called in and found the Thanksgiving dinner a wreck. The couple were arrested on a charge of being drunk and disorderly.

If Mrs. Cannon had only known to first use the bird to beat up highwaymen, all this trouble could have been averted. And curious, is it not, how New Jersey appears to be the Turkey Weapon Capital of the World?

Of course, using a turkey as a club does not always work very well for you or the bird. The "Philadelphia Times," November 28, 1884:

There was a clear space of the length of a man's arm and two turkey legs in front of Stephen Nash's crowded bar for ten minutes yesterday afternoon. At the end of that time the man with the arm and the turkey legs was put out. In the ten minutes he rapped the turkey legs repeatedly on the counter and made the glasses jingle. He also had something to complain of.

He spoke rapidly and his voice got thick toward the end of his speech. " I went to buy a turkey this morning, gentlemen," the man said, "and I won the turkey that belonged to these legs in a raffle. Then I thought I'd spend my turkey money for rum and unless I can pick up the fragments of that turkey on the road back to Frankford my family will have to dine on cranberry sauce." Here the turkey man mournfully dangled the trailing tendons of the mangled fowl in the olive dish.

"A man belted me," he continued, "in a Clearfield street saloon on the way home and when I whacked him with that proud bird of freedom the head and neck came off like a link of sausage and flew into the Tom and Jerry bowl.

"The bartender got unreasonable and wanted me lo pay for the Tom and Jerry. I refused and he became impudent. I swung that barnyard's pride at him and he dodged behind the cigar case. Gentlemen, the glass of that case sluffed off more than two pounds of white meat.

"Then we clinched and both wings of the bird disappeared in the scuffle. I saw the bartender through the door brushing pin-feathers off his cardigan jacket when I left. The wish bone was busted, too, and the turkey's lungs was hanging out of the place where his neck had been. I thought then that I'd better take the rest of the family's Thanksgiving home to 'em.

"A Fifth street car conductor said I couldn't bring the turkey aboard. We had a fencing match-- him with the car hook and me with the turkey. When we got through I asked him to let me take his coat home to roast for dinner, for all the turkey was on it but the Pope's nose and the legs. He wouldn't have it and I gave the Pope's nose to a blind beggar and here I am with the drumsticks."

And, of course, few things say, "Spirit of Thanksgiving" like getting into a shootout at a turkey raffle.

"St. Paul Globe," November 27, 1902

And, finally, considering what this holiday means to turkeys, it's always nice to see them get a bit of their own back. The "Los Angeles Herald," July 14, 1907:

Newmarket, N.J., July 13.— Justice Clarke T. Rogers, who makes a specialty of breeding big hogs and prize fowls, had a hair raising experience with a turkey yesterday. Rogers picked up a young turkey yesterday and, while he was fondling it, the mother turkey attacked him. The enraged bird flew at the judge's face, beating his head with its wings and pecking wildly away into his flesh. So unexpected and ferocious was the attack that Rogers felt to the ground unconscious. The cackles of the turkey brought Col. Downey, a. nephew, to the scene and he drove away the infuriated bird.

Yes, New Jersey again.  And no, I'm not going to ask why the judge was fondling a turkey.

Happy Thanksgiving!  And as for you Jerseyites, for the love of God, go vegetarian this year.

Newspaper Clipping(s) of the Day, Annual Thanksgiving Edition

Yes, the above headline has probably already made you guess what's coming next: another Strange Company Thanksgiving, where we Americans gather with friends and family to eat, drink, and nearly kill each other over the weight of turkey bones.

You think I kid? The "Alta California," November 25, 1887:

James Johnson and Charles Morris while celebrating Thanksgiving day in a Polk-street saloon yesterday afternoon differed as to the weight of a turkey bone. To make Johnson believe that his guess was away off, Marris struck his adversary with a beer glass over the head. The police interfered and locked Morris up on a charge of assault with a deadly weapon, while Johnson was booked for disturbing the peace and using vulgar language.

Thanksgiving isn't usually thought of as a "romantic" holiday.  Tell that to those lovebirds, David and Bertha:

"Day Book," December 1, 1911

Such festive disputes are traditionally followed by the Turkey Raffle of Death. The "San Francisco Call," November 29, 1895:

There was a turkey raffle at Twenty-second and Market streets last night, and as a result four men are in the City Prison to-day, charged with assault with a deadly weapon. The arrival of the police served to stop what was in a fair way to become murder.

John Maloney and James Conlan are friends. James O'Malia and Edward O'Malia are brothers. Each is prepared to fight for the other, and early this morning each pair did what it is prepared to do. Just how the affair started no one seems to know, but Thanksgiving morning was only an hour old when North Oakland was in a tumult. The O'Malias and Maloney and Conlan would not agree about the result of a turkey raffle. There was a dispute as to the winning.

One O'Malia held a ticket marked 9 and Conlan had a ticket marked 6. They were plain pasteboards, and 9 won. Now, a 9 upside down is a 6 and a 6 is a 9, and on this similarity four men prepared to take each other's lives, if need be, before they would consent to lose a prospective turkey.

The peculiar part of the affray is the fact that both contesting parties changed their cause of action as the number of beers increased. O'Malia had No. 9, but during the argument he turned it upside down and started in to argue and fight that 6 was the winner. Conlan was not going to submit to any compromise that would end in peace, so he vociferously declared that he had held his upside down all the time, and that it was not 6 but 9. James O'Malia backed his brother Edward and John Maloney sustained Conlan.

After satisfying themselves that arbitration was out of the question an attempt was made by Conlon to impress his views on the O'Malias by hammering their heads with a beer bottle. The indignity was returned and when the police arrived lacerated heads and clothes liberally adorned with blood and arms flourishing bottles were all mixed up.

After separating the combatants all four men were taken to jail and charged with "assault with a deadly weapon." Edward O'Malia will also have to account for carrying concealed weapons. John Maloney secured a bondsman this morning and was released. His companions and the O'Malias passed Thanksgiving day in durance vile.

It is not recorded who finally took possession of this priceless turkey, but I'm assuming it was not the O'Malias, the Maloneys, or the Conlans.

Another Thanksgiving turkey--this one simply unappetizing--was at the center of another public brawl. The "Carbondate Chronicle," December 19, 1885:

Officer Charles was called upon to quell a riot in a State street boarding house Monday night that grew out of the intolerable toughness and inexcusable resistance of a Thanksgiving turkey.

The boarding house is known among the denizens of the tough end of State street as the "Cheap Chuck Joint," which appellation, though more expressive than elegant, aptly describes this place which would be known in the larger cities as a "function" or second-hand hash house. Call it what name you will the reporter found it to be a most unsavory place, and exuded a swill barrel smell that indicated the source of the food before it was dipped in vinegar and fried over. One large frying pan is the principal and favorite means of preparing the food served to the patrons of this den. It appears, however, from the statement of the female that keeps the place that she had promised her boarders a rare treat on Monday night. To keep her promise she bought a dried up turkey that the public had rejected on Thanksgiving day, for a dinner. This gobbler had been a very large and old one, originally, but the flesh had all dried up and the breast bone appeared like the distant view of a lofty peak, some miles above timber line. The bird was duly dipped in vinegar, however, and contrary to the custom of the keeper of the joint, broiled instead of fried.

It was served, with some pretensions to style, on a large dripping pan, which also contained a number of boiled potatoes. When the hungry boarders, some twelve in number, had each deposited their dime into the horny hand of the hostess, they sat around the long table prepared to discuss the turkey. They had reckoned without the bird, however, for there was not a knife to be found in the house that could make the slightest impression upon even the formerly white meat on the breast of it. This suggested the idea to a carpenter to go next door and borrow a saw, while a young man who worked in a butcher shop not far off soon returned with a meat-axe. The collision between these tools on the breast of the unreasonably tough bird, sent the flour and water gravy flying out of the dripping pan over the guests, the jointers getting less than a quart on the lace kerchief jauntily arranged along her long, skinny neck.

Bedlam ensued, in which the turkey became a weapon of offense and defense, and all of the boarders were mauled with it at one time or another during the combat. Officer Charles put down the revolt of the boarders against the cheap chuck boarding mistress, and the carpenter set up the beer to his fellow-sufferers. This pacified them all, and none of them would make a complaint for assault against the others.

Month-old turkey boiled in vinegar. I love vintage recipes.

This story naturally brings us to my favorite Thanksgiving theme: weaponized turkeys. Fortunately, it seems to be popular with a lot of people this time of year. Witness this story from the "Pittsburgh Press," November 28, 1987:

A Tacoma, Wash., man was thrown in jail on Thanksgiving when accused of assaulting his girlfriend with a 21-pound turkey.

The woman told police she and her boyfriend were arguing outside the house and he lost his temper and used the turkey to shove her into the house, aggravating her poor back condition.

Police arrested the man on assault charges under the state's domestic violence act and booked him into jail.

The weapon "was not placed in evidence because it was roasting in the oven," the arresting officer noted.

Police did not identify the couple.

This item comes from the "Los Angeles Times," November 24, 1983:

Anthony J. Crew of Windham, Ohio, also used a turkey to get his name in the news, but it cost him $150 and a year's probation, said Jeanne Tondiglia, clerk of the Portage County court.

It seems Crew celebrated Thanksgiving a couple of days early last year by assaulting his brother-in-law with a 20-pound frozen turkey.

The "Southern Illinoisan," November 25, 1990:

Midwest City, Okla.--A man who became enraged that his Thanksgiving turkey was not defrosted was charged with assaulting his wife with the frozen bird, police said.

Scott Nelson, 33, spent part of Thanksgiving in jail after his wife, Jackie, signed a complaint accusing him of assault, said Police Maj. Brandon Clabes.

Mrs. Nelson, 24, told police her husband got angry and threw the turkey and a pie into the parking lot at their apartment complex after he discovered the bird was not thawed.

When she gathered up her child to leave, she said Nelson hurled the frozen bird at the car, breaking the windshield.

She said he then grabbed her and threatened to assault her with the turkey before she got away and drove to the police department.

Nelson was released later Thursday after posting $204 bond.

I can only hope Mrs. Nelson spent the following Thanksgiving celebrating her divorce.

After reading the above stories, you may be thinking that only men use turkeys as weapons of war. Let me direct your attention to an item in the "Allentown Call," September 4, 1909:

It remained for Whitehall township to produce the latest methods of warfare, in which dead turkeys are used. Mrs. Sallie Roeder and Mrs. Jennie Otto had a hearing before Alderman Bower last night in which each charged the other with assault and battery.

Mrs. Otto claims she was the owner of a flock of turkeys. One morning she found them dead and she charges Mrs. Roeder with having killed them. In her charge Mrs. Otto declares that the Roeder woman attacked her with a dead turkey in each hand. She held the turkeys by the neck and walloped her victim over the head with them until she was sure she wound never be able to enjoy another Thanksgiving dinner.

The Otto woman had a bunch of gruesome exhibits as evidence of the handling she received from Mrs. Roeder. Exhibit A was a big fist full of hair which she insisted the Roeder woman pulled out of her head. The hair certainly looked like her own. Exhibit B was the sad remnant of once peek-a-boo shirt waist. Nothing but the peeks was left of it. Mrs. Roeder showed the marks of somebody's teeth on her arm, which she said were Mrs. Otto's. The case was continued until Monday.

Of course, there are times when the lack of turkey leads to Thanksgiving trouble. The "Daily Times," October 7, 1938:

In San Francisco a husband took wife and family to a restaurant on Thanksgiving Day. He ordered turkey for himself, beans and cole slaw for the family. The lady sued.

A happy Thanksgiving to all my readers in the U.S. You might want to note that here at Strange Company HQ, we will be having a vegetarian feast. Scoff all you want, but I have yet to come across any newspaper items describing nut loaf and seitan ham being used as a deadly weapon.

And one more tip: If you're planning to boil your bird in vinegar, have plenty of beer on hand.

Newspaper Clipping of the Day, Thanksgiving Edition

Turkeys everywhere are now seeking asylum in Ireland.

While this is not a Thanksgiving Day story, this salute to "a wonderful turkey" surely should be part of the holiday season. Admittedly, as a vegan, I'm all for hiring the birds as legal consultants, rather than eating them. From the "Illustrated Police News," July 9, 1870:

At the last Petty Sessions at Newtownards, near Belfast, an amusing case was heard. It was a process brought to recover a sum of money due for the use and occupation of a house at Ballyhay. The plaintiff was examined, and deposed that the defendant left his house without his knowledge or consent, and he now wished to recover the rent due.--Mr. O'Rorke: Were you advised not to bring this case into court, as there was no chance of your winning it? Plaintiff: I was.--His Worship: Who advised him?--Mr. O'Rorke: Tell his worship who gave you this advice.--Plaintiff: The neighbours about the place told me I need not put myself to the trouble of coming here, as I would never receive a farthing of my rent, as the turkey had told them I was a done man. (Loud laughter.)--His Worship: What's that?--Plaintiff: The turkey told them I would lose the case. (Laughter.)--Mr. O'Rorke: And you will find the turkey was right. (Laughter.)--His Worship: And whose turkey is this that gave this legal advice? Plaintiff: It is the turkey kept by the villagers. It is consulted on all questions affecting their interest, and its advice is said never to have failed. (Loud laughter.)--His Worship: This is certainly a wonderful turkey.--Mr. O'Rorke: I never heard of a legal turkey before. (Laughter.)--His Worship: Where did this consultation with the turkey take place regarding your case?--Plaintiff: It usually takes place in the house of the owner.--His Worship: And how is he consulted?--Plaintiff: A meeting of the people takes place in the owner's house. A table is placed in the middle of the floor, and the turkey put upon it. The people then form in a circle round the table, and the person who has called the meeting--the same as the defendant in this case--asks the turkey whether or not such and such a thing will take place. If the turkey answers in favour of the person who asks the question, it will nod its head; and if it is against the person who asks the question, it will shy away. (Laughter, which lasted several minutes, his worship joining.)--His Worship: This is a nice state of affairs in the 19th century. What did the people tell you the turkey said on this occasion?--Plaintiff: The turkey was asked would I lose the case, and it nodded its head. (Loud laughter.)--Mr. Dinnen: But you did not believe in the turkey's advice?--Plaintiff: I did not; I thought I would try his worship.--His Worship: How long has this turkey been consulted in cases of this kind?--Plaintiff: Oh! it has been the case for upwards of twenty years. If you look into Irish history you will find things of this kind recorded there.--Mr. Dinnen: I think this is a case for reference.--Mr. O'Rorke: Very well.--The case was then left to the arbitration of two gentlemen, and on their return into court they stated that they had found in favour of the defendant, and that there was no rent due to the plaintiff.--His Worship: How does that agree with the advice of the turkey?--Mr. Dinnen: It proves that the turkey was right. (Laughter.)--His Worship: I think in future we should refer all disputed cases to the turkey.

Newspaper Clipping of the Day, Thanksgiving Edition

Christmas ghost stories are a dime a dozen, but Thanksgiving hauntings--if you don't count the ghosts of turkeys who resent becoming a holiday entree--seem to be rare.

One of those unique spook stories comes from the "San Francisco Call," November 27, 1896:

There is a haunted vessel in Oakland Creek. The watchman asserts that the ghost is harmless, but those who have been on the vessel for several trips say that the "spook" comes along as regularly as Thanksgiving.  Some years ago the vessel was in Honolulu, and at that time the Hawaiian Star said: "The men in the forecastle see the ghost of Captain Williams frequently. Off Molokai the night before the Occidental was towed to the Pacific Mail dock there was a great commotion forward. The man on watch and two other men who hurried above when he called declare they saw Captain Williams on deck. They give a perfect description of the dead man. They say he looked ahead intently for several seconds, turned as if to give orders, uttered a short agonizing groan, staggered amidships and disappeared. Every man forward corroborates this account."

Contemporary sketch of the Occidental

Captain Williams is the restless spirit and he was murdered on the forward deck of the Occidental nearly nine years ago. The vessel was on her way from Liverpool to a South American port with a mixed crew. There was trouble almost from the start and the captain had to be constantly on the watch. One moonlight night when everybody was below, or supposed to be, Captain Williams went forward to see if everything was snug for the night. One of his men who thought he had been abused thrust a knife into his back as the captain turned to go forward. The blade pierced his heart, and Williams, after casting an agonizing glance around, dropped dead. His murderer is now serving a life sentence in San Quentin. He and some of his accomplices were turned over to the American Consul at Callao and sent to San Francisco. Their trial resulted in the acquittal of all except the man who is now in the State prison. In spite of the ghost the Occidental has been one of the most successful vessels trading in and out of the Golden Gate. Latterly there have been no charters in sight and she has been tied up in Oakland Creek.

Watchmen pooh-pooh the idea of a ghost, but, nevertheless, those who know assert that about Thanksgiving time the ghost of Captain Williams appears on the forward deck and the scene of the killing is again enacted. The Occidental is one of the staunchest vessels in the American marine. She has been for years on the coast. Many of the old pilots and sea captains remember Captain Williams as one of the brightest and best of the old-time skippers.

I was able to confirm that in 1887, Captain John Williams was indeed murdered on the Occidental, but I have found no more about his alleged unhappy--and very punctual--spirit.

Newspaper Clipping(s) of the Day, Thanksgiving Edition

I like Thanksgiving. Any holiday that revolves around huge amounts of food and drink is aces with me.

But fear not, even such a benign celebration has attracted its share of disaster, and I'm just the person to chronicle it all. Think of this post as a feast, Strange Company style: a hearty helping of murder, with generous side dishes of violence and misery, with a slice of The Weird for dessert.

The rest, of course, is gravy.

For instance, the "Milwaukee Journal" for November 29, 1935 told of a man who provided his dinner companions with unexpected entertainment with their meal:

While Ernest Mahr, 20, of 539 W. Juneau Av. was eating his Thanksgiving dinner Thursday police walked in and arrested him on a charge of automobile larceny, second offense. Friday he was arraigned in the district court and bound over to the municipal court for trial.

Auto theft is bad enough, but the holiday programs can be pure murder. From the "Miami News," November 28, 1929:

Carrier Mills, Ill., Nov. 28--Grief and unhappiness supplanted the spirit of the holiday in Carrier Mills today--the aftermath of an argument over when to hold a school Thanksgiving program.

Leslie Lightfoot, 33, school district director and teacher, was dead and Dwight Organ, 26, teacher, was held in the Saline county jail at Harrisburg, charged with slaying Lightfoot.

Lightfoot and two other directors of the school district decided the Thanksgiving program should be given Friday evening. Mrs. Lightfoot was asked to convey this decision to Organ.

Organ discredited the message from Lightfoot and called a meeting of the school district directors in a cafe Tuesday night. At the meeting, Lightfoot is said to have asked Organ why he questioned the message; an argument followed, in which Lightfoot, witnesses said, struck Organ, who in turn drew a revolver and fired twice into Lightfoot's body.

Yes, let that one sink in for a moment. These were two schoolteachers.

This next one, from the November 29, 1913 "Cambridge Chronicle," is an unusual example of family holiday cheer:

A regular "Carrie Nation," in the person of Mrs. Anna B. Glynn, of 40 School street, visited the drug store of John H. Fitzgerald, 695 Main street, Thanksgiving morning, at about 10 o'clock, and paid her respects by hurling a flatiron through one large window and a brick through the other. Then she submitted to arrest by Patrolman "Tony" Diehl. Her husband, Thomas J. Glynn, was later arrested on the charge of drunkenness. In court yesterday, Glynn was released, but his wife was held for a hearing December 5th, on the charge of breaking glass. The police took four children of the couple to the city home, where they remained until yesterday afternoon, when Mrs. Glynn called for them. According to the police, the explanation the woman gave for her act was her claim that Mr. Glynn had been sold liquor at the drug store.

This next pair may give even Mrs. Anna B. Glynn a run for her money. From the "Los Angeles Herald," November 30, 1909:

Albuquerque, N.M., Nov. 18--News of a Thanksgiving day duel at Fairview, N.M., in which both participants were killed, has just reached here.

James B. Taylor, well known cattle man and foreman of the United States Treasury mint in Sierra county, and C.A. Futch, cattleman, had been enemies ever since the latter's wedding a year ago to which he failed to invite the wife of Taylor. The men had quarreled frequently over this slight, and Thanksgiving day drew their revolvers upon meeting again and opened battle. Each was wounded twice and both died almost instantly. Fairview is eighty miles from a railroad.

So far, we've learned that some people just shouldn't put on holiday programs, act as sobriety coach, or throw weddings. Add cooking dinner to the list. "The Times News" for November 28, 1992 reported that a Walter Lee Parker, of Raleigh, North Carolina was charged with assault with a deadly weapon for stabbing his nephew during an argument about trimmings for the Thanksgiving dinner.  (The nephew was not seriously injured.)

More family cheer, this time from the "San Francisco Call," November 28, 1913:

Too much turkey and Thanksgiving cheer made a bad day yesterday for the Falkenburgs. On their way to their home at 624 Girard street, after dinner with friends. Mr. and Mrs. L. Falkenburg and their son. Edward Falkenburg, started arguing, and 15 minutes later the son was in the Mission emergency hospital with scalp wounds.

After treatment his parents went with him when to the home of their other son, William Falkenburg, 810 Hampshire street. Another argument started, during which the mother stabbed William with a hatpin. After police were called the sons decided their parents should not be arrested.

Here is one of the less satisfying Thanksgiving feasts on record, but you can't deny this guy was easy to cook for. From the "Spokane Press," November 27, 1907:

CHICAGO, Nov. 27—Of all the queer menus that will be served Thanksgiving day, the queerest is probably that of Dr. Thos. J. Allen of Aurora, Ill. Dr. Allen is the scientist who has asserted and is attempting to demonstrate that he can sustain life for 60 days on a diet composed almost wholly of peanuts. Thanksgiving day will he the forty-second of his peanut roasting. The doctor asserts that he feels much better than he did before he began to diet: that he has lost a little flesh, but has gained in nervous ability and "tone." Friends of his declare, however, that he is shaky and weak, and that his hand is cold to the touch.

The Thanksgiving dinner he will eat is as follows:

SPANISH PEANUTS WITH A PINCH OF SALT.
VIRGINIA PEANUTS IN THE SHELL.
WATER.

At the other meals of the day he will vary this diet with a glass of lemonade. He eats three-quarters of a pound of goobers daily.

The Thanksgiving dinner will be served at one of the best hotels, and the doctor will have several guests at his table who will partake of the same diet. He will lecture to the guests on the food value of the nut.

"l want it understood." Dr. Allen said, "that I do not believe the peanut is as good as some other nuts or vegetables. I am eating it alone merely to demonstrate that it will sustain life. The most natural food for any one, of course, is milk. "Meat should never he eaten. I have not touched it for two years. The peanut is like meat in that it contains a greater proportion of carbon than is of value to the human system. For that reason I think the pecan is the most nutritious of all nuts. Its proportion of albumen, carbon, etc. is better suited for assimilation.

"My ideal menu for a day on a vegetable and nut diet would be:
"7 a.m. —Lemonade with sugar.

"10 a.m. —Breakfast: Brown part of the wheat cocoanut, peanuts (20 per cent), pecans, egg. Serve uncooked.

"1 p.m. —Dinner: Vesper broth, composed of figs, dates, corn syrup, malted grains. Serve without starch and uncooked.

"3 p.m. —Lemonade with sugar.

"This diet could be varied occasionally with a few bananas, grapes, oranges, raisins and apples. My theory is that the average man eats about five times too much every day. 1 would advise him to leave out meats and cut down the amount of other foods.

"My experiments have demonstrated to me the value of peanuts as a brain food. I have kept an exact record of each day's work since I changed to this diet, and I find that I can do 20 per cent more than formerly. It takes about 30 days to change from one form of diet to another, and I am just beginning to get so that I can go by a lot of delicacies and not crave them."

Dr. Allen's companions at this Thanksgiving "dinner" discovered that he had first gone in disguise to another restaurant where he had a five-course meal including baked ham, mashed potatoes, vintage champagne and several different kinds of pie. They then took him out to the alley behind the restaurant and beat him up.

All right, I made up that last paragraph, but I think we can all agree that that's how this story should have ended.

Here's one man who had an even worse Thanksgiving than the good doctor. Here is a weirdly Draconian punishment described in the "San Francisco Call," November 28, 1913:

As punishment for picking raspberries on a millionaire's estate at Hillsborough a San Francisco florist was sentenced by Judge Henry P. Bowie to forego the pleasure of his annual turkey feast.

John Nalistini, 55 Valparaiso street, San Francisco, is the sorrowful person who paid the unusual penalty. He was arrested yesterday for picking berries on the Joseph D. Grant estate. "Have you had your Thanksgiving dinner yet?" demanded Judge Bowie. "Not yet," replied the prisoner. "Then I order you confined to Hillsborough jail till all vestige of turkey has disappeared."

The Gobbler's Dream; or, The Vegetarian Pledge

As I said, I enjoy Thanksgiving, but as a virtually life-long vegetarian, I do regret the fact that the most famous feature of the day is a mass turkey slaughter. In memory of 2014's doomed-to-be-main-course birds, I'd like to highlight a few stories where their brethren got a bit of their own back.

Andrew Green, the druggist, was yesterday thrown to the ground by his horse, afrighted by a turkey flapping its wings. NJ1885
— R.L. Ripples (@TweetsofOld) November 21, 2014

From the "Adelaide Register," June 4, 1910:

A Staffordshire artist, while sketching near Hanley, was attacked by a turkey, and had an exciting encounter with the bird, lasting a quarter of an hour. The turkey approached the artist from behind, and made a sudden attack, which he just managed to escape. With his sketch block he aimed a blow at the bird's head, but missed, and then sought refuge behind a tree. The turkey pursued him, and after dodging it around the tree for some time the artist made a dash for his stool to use as a weapon, but the bird was too quick for him. Then began a combat which lasted for some minutes. The artist used his palette as a weapon of defense, and this was destroyed in the first blow. Closing with the bird, he bet every attempt it made to spring at him by kicking it in the breast, while he protected his face with his arms. It was not until the artist was almost exhausted that his cries for help were heard by a party of golfers and a farm hand. A blow across the neck put the turkey out of action.

The "Altoona Mirror," September 8, 1926:

While gathering sweet corn in a back field of the A.B. Miller farm on Saturday Mrs. Miller was attacked by a turkey gobbler belonging to a neighbor and had to battle the vicious bird for a half hour before she conquered him. Evidently resenting what he thought was an encroachment on his feeding grounds the big gobbler launched a fierce fight for mastery. He flogged and kicked, hurling himself at Mrs. Miller's face. She interposed a tin bucket which was full of roasting ears between them to protect her face and such was the force of his impact that he dented the bucket like the kick from a cow. She could not get away from the big turk as he cut off her line of retreat every time she tried to get away. He seemed to be in a dozen places at one. She beat him with the bucket and corn stalks but every blow she landed only acted to further enrage him. After a half hour of this strenuous engagement, both combatants were pretty well exhausted. But Mrs. Miller came off with the honors of war as the gobbler quit fighting as suddenly as he began and marched off home.

There was that time when a man and a turkey battled it out in court. From the "Mid Surrey Times," August 28, 1880:

A curious case has just been referred to the Russian Court of Appeal. A certain General, who had earned half-a-dozen decorations in the Turkish campaign, was walking a few days ago along one of the principal streets of Tamboff, a town in Central Russia, when he was suddenly attacked by a ferocious turkey. The unexpectedness of the encounter seems to have entirely paralyzed the faculties of the worthy son of Mars, for although he wore his sword at his side, and might easily have made mincemeat of his assailant, he raised no resistance against the enemy, but shouted loud and lustily for the police. These gentry, on the watch for Nihilists, hurried from every quarter, in obedience to the General's cries, but were anticipated in their assistance by a deacon, who, passing by at the time, seized the enraged bird--then fluttering on the General's breast--by the neck, and held him captive till the gorodovie and dvorniki came up and took him into custody. An owner for the turkey-cock was soon found, and a protocol was drawn up by the police, charging him with culpable negligence in not looking after his poultry. The case came on, and the evidence adduced added nothing to what we have already stated, and a defense was raised on the simple grounds that the Article of the Code mentioned in the indictment did not refer to feathered kind, but merely applied to ferocious bipeds and quadrupeds. The bench of magistrates discussed long among themselves the validity of this argument, and at length, amidst breathless silence, announced that "State Secretary Nikiferoff, as owner of a dangerous turkey-cock allowed to roam at large, was amenable to the Article of the Code referred to in the indictment," and sentenced him to pay a fine of ten copecks (three pence) or undergo twenty-four hours' imprisonment. A roar of laughter followed the decision of the Bench, in the midst of which the solicitor of Nikiferoff arose and gave notice that he should carry the case to the St. Petersburg Court of Appeal.

Unfortunately, I have been unable to learn how that case was finally resolved.

From the "Newark Advocate," April 1, 1936:

Coshocton, April 1.--C.C. Dawson, real estate salesman, while calling on a prospective customer was attacked by a turkey which struck him in the chest, knocking him down and causing a sprained knee. He scrambled to his feet and, limping, looked around for some means of protection. The turkey charged again but Dawson, seeing a piece of canvas, picked it up and threw it over the turkey's head, at the same time yelling for help. D.A. Overholt who Dawson was calling on, came to his rescue with an inner tube and struck the attacker. The turkey then retreated.

The last line of this next story sounds ominously like a declaration of war. The "Oakland Tribune," April 4, 1912:

Kent, April 4.--A turkey with proclivities for man killing is the property of R.R. Rotter, a compositor on a local paper. When Rotter was feeding his turkeys a large gobbler attacked him, striking him in the face so hard that he was forced to beat a hasty retreat. His face was badly lacerated by the attack of the gobbler, and Rotter says that when he feeds the turkey hereafter he will arm himself.

It's hard to top the lede from this story in the "Princeton Union," December 21, 1911:

Frank Stadden narrowly escaped having his eyesight destroyed and his nose bitten off by an infuriated turkey on Monday morning. But here's the story in brief:

John McCool sold a number of turkeys to Mr. Austin and one of them flew into a tree. Finding it impossible to coax the gobbler from its perch Frank Stadden was appealed to. Frank loaded his blunderbuss and brought the fowl to earth, but it was only slightly wounded and, when he attempted to capture it, the bird showed fight. It struck at Frank, drove its talons into his hands, bored holes into his face with its beak and greatly disfigured his proboscis. Seeing that Frank was getting the worst of the battle Mr. Austin ran to his assistance with a club and dispatched the gobbler. However, in striking at the turkey Austin's aim was not at all times accurate, and Frank received one of the blows intended for the bird which caused a big blue-black lump to appear with remarkable rapidity upon the polished portion of his cranium. Mr. Stadden asserts that never in his lifetime has he encountered so ferocious a turkey as this particular gobbler, and says he is inclined to the opinion that either its father or its mother was a great American eagle.

Fortunately, a similar story from the "Iola Register" for August 22, 2001, had a happier ending for all concerned. For some months, the town of Holland, Michigan had been terrorized by a wild turkey who had settled in their neighborhood.  He took to stalking the citizens of Holland, pinning them inside their cars or behind their front doors.  People began altering their normal routes to avoid him.  He was "the bully of the block."  "I taught in Flint for 39 years without a problem," one victim wailed. "I move over here and I'm attacked by a turkey."  The town finally called in, not Superman, but Mike's Nuisance Animal Control, who captured the predator and released him into a wooded area some miles away.

Now, here's the spirit: Have a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner--as the guest of honor! Let's end our chronicle on a cheerful note with the legend of the Sweater-Wearing Fowl, from the "Delaware County Times," November 24, 1955:

Some turkeys don't die on Thanksgiving Day...they just live out their lives in knitted sweaters.

At least this was the fate of a bird picked for eating in California one day many years ago, according to Paul Fox, Swarthmore author.

"This story," he related the other evening, "is said to be true. Two elderly women were preparing for a Thanksgiving Day dinner of traditional type.

"They were city folk, however, and when a friend in the country offered them a turkey, they accepted without taking into consideration that the turkey would be alive.

"The day before Thanksgiving, the bird arrived; the picture of good health--active and very obstreperous. The women were stumped. How to get the turkey into the shape they were accustomed to for roasting taxed their minds.

"With the burst of ingenuity, they planned the bird's death.

"One went to the drug store, and by dint of persuasive skill, bought some chloroform. Later in the garage, the two women soaked chloroform on a handkerchief and shoved against the gobbler's head.

"The chloroform and turkey performed as expected. The bird collapsed to the floor, and the two ladies promptly plucked every feather from its still body.

"At this point an act of God intervened. There was a slight earthquake, generally upsetting the routine in the household, and the ladies forgot the featherless bird for a space of time.

"Later, when things settled down, imagine their horror as they saw the naked apparition of the traditional Thanksgiving Day roast walking down the street!

"Embarrassed and shamed, the ladies caught the wandering gobbler, fed him well, and knitted him a sweater until he restored his plumage," Fox concluded.

So you see, not all gobblers end up in the oven--some wear sweaters.

That wraps up our tribute to Thanksgiving. A happy holiday to all my fellow Americans, and do your best to avoid getting stabbed with hatpins, shot, arrested, or attacked by turkeys.

Or, worst horror of all, dining with Dr. Allen.