LESSONS DRAWN FROM LESSER CRIMES

Aside from earthquakes and airplanes and other headline moments in local history, a goodly chunk of this journal is devoted to the odd little stories that peppered the back pages of the Santa Rosa newspapers more than a hundred years ago. Most irresistible are the ones ending with a twist or some mystery.

For example, it wasn’t particularly interesting that Mrs. Patterson (“a prominent resident of Rincon Valley”) accidentally took a dose of mild poison instead of a laxative, but it made you wonder why anyone would have them in presumably identical, unmarked bottles in a medicine cabinet. It was nice to read there was a benefit to raise funds for one-legged Harold Casey to buy a prosthetic limb; what we really hoped to learn, however, was how he performed his job as the town’s messenger boy using just a crutch. And enquiring minds want to know why a couple in Cotati tied someone up with wire after he began acting crazy, yet didn’t take him to the police until the next day (they originally restrained him with rope, but he “gnawed the rope in two as a rat would have done,” according to the paper).

These peculiar items are fun to read (and write!) but also serve to illustrate how profoundly times have changed in just a century. The batch of crime-related stories from 1912 transcribed below each provides a different glimpse of that different world, starting with a crime wavelet in Santa Rosa where robbers were stealing stuff from cars while the drivers where attending Sunday evening church services. The thefts – which had been “going on for some time” according to the Press Democrat – involved overcoats, lap blankets, and probably umbrellas and other items one might have in a car during winter.

First, it’s interesting to learn Sunday night church was such a popular thing that parishioner’s cars became a dependable target for crooks (it was about another ten years before door locks became a standard item on cars). If it was happening so often, one wonders why the churches didn’t appoint a deacon or someone to hang around the vestibule and keep an eye on the doings outside. But the broader question is why people would be stealing used coats and blankets, which were not exactly high value items; perhaps the thefts were another artifact of Santa Rosa’s perpetually invisible homeless population which was then, as now, centered around the Wilson street soup kitchens operated by religious groups.

Also in 1912 the sheriff and deputies were dispatched to Kenwood where they looked for a man who had “offended women and children in that city by vulgar actions,” which presumably meant indecent exposure. That was certainly unusual (the last case mentioned in the papers was in 1906) but more remarkable here is police were shooting as they chased him.

Guns were also involved in the Dinucci fracas. According to the Santa Rosa Republican – which misspelled the name as “Denucci” – the trouble began when some brothers in the Healdsburg branch of the family were trying to move an old log on their property. “In the melee that followed, one of the brothers was cut in the eye, but he is unable to account for the exact manner in which he was injured, whether he was cut with an axe, struck with a club or fell down and collided with some object.” Irregardless of whether the eye injury was caused by chopping, clubbing or stumbling, one of the brothers next picked up the shotgun which the Dinucci boys apparently carried around whenever they were out and about lifting logs. He fired the gun at one of the others, missed, and ran for the hills. The sheriff came up from Santa Rosa and looked around for the shooter but he was not found, so everyone left and presumed he would show up at home, eventually. What a different outcome from trigger-happy Deputy Barney blasting away at the Kenwood flasher.

There were serious crimes in 1912 not discussed here, the most sensational being 15 year-old Adam Clark poisoning his parents. (The Windsor boy, who reportedly was abused and mentally handicapped, said he planned the murders because his mother was always nagging and “giving him the dickens.”) That story made the Bay Area newspapers, as did the supposed “sale” of Mrs. Seek.

Mrs. Lottie Seek and her husband were driving home to Santa Clara when they were stopped by two men. She recognized one of them immediately – it was her ex-husband, Francis Pettis.*

Heated words followed. Lottie said they were divorced two years earlier. Pettis, a horse trader who lived in Petaluma, insisted they were still married. Claiming his companion was a cop, Pettis demanded she be arrested for bigamy. After rejecting her pleadings and a further threat to have her husband, Louis, arrested for adultery as well, Pettis agreed to drop the matter if they would give him ten dollars (about an average week’s pay at the time).

All was well for the next three weeks. Then one evening, Louis could not find his wife. Lottie turned up the next morning and said “Pettis had compelled her to go to his apartments,” the San Francisco Call reported. Soon after, Pettis is at their doorstep; this time he wants another fifty bucks. Louis Seek went to the police. “He had not purchased her on the installment plan,” The Call wryly remarked. An arrest warrant for Pettis was ordered on cause of extortion.

Once before a judge, however, matters looked murkier. She was not divorced from Pettis after all; while living in Santa Rosa she had paid a Petaluma lawyer $20 for divorce papers, but did not understand – or was not told – a divorce required court hearings. Now facing possible arrest for bigamy, Lottie said she would go back to Pettis.

On hearing that, Louis Seek demanded she be arrested for bigamy.

While Lottie sat in jail, Louis took inventory. “He treated her like a brute,” he told the Call. “I treated her all right. Look at that suit on her. I paid $40 for that. Look at those shoes and that hat. All of them expensive.”

After she spent a weekend behind bars, however, Louis had second thoughts and refused to press charges. They went home together – only to find a subpoena from Sonoma County waiting. It seemed Pettis (still sought for extortion, remember) wanted her as a witness in a suit against a guy named Moretti, whom he claimed was responsible for breaking up his otherwise swell marriage. Alas, the newspapers never reported how the three (four?) cases were resolved, which usually meant charges were dropped.

And finally, someone wrote to the county asking for details about an assault that happened about forty years earlier. In the early 1870s a man was acquitted for stabbing someone in a bar fight; the writer helpfully adds this was the same brawl where the city marshall was shot. Yikes! I take back my scoffing about Santa Rosa ever having the character of a real “wild west” town. It certainly makes the odd little crimes of 1912 look positively modern.

*  My best guess is Francis E. Pettis, born 1868 in Michigan, was her husband. The man was called both H. E. Pettis and F. E. Pettis by Bay Area newspapers, and although Francis was never identified elsewhere as a horse trader, he spent most of his life around San Jose, the scene of this story. Francis left a meager personal record; as an adult he appears in the census only twice – as a clerk in a poolroom in 1910 and an inmate of the Santa Clara County Almshouse in 1930, both of which seem like situations which could involve our guy.

PETTY THEFTS OF ROBES AND COATS
Articles Removed From Automobiles and Other Vehicles Standing Outside Churches

Considerable petty thieving has been going on for some time from automobiles and other vehicles standing outside Santa Rosa churches on Sunday nights. Overcoats, rugs and other articles have been removed. So far the guilty parties have gone undetected but efforts are being made to apprehend them.

One clergyman has asked his parishioners, when they drive up to his church, to carry their coats and rugs into a room in the church for safety. Such thefts are mean and contemptible, to say the least.

– Press Democrat, December 29, 1912

PETALUMA MAN IS ARRESTED
Charged With Selling Wife for Ten Dollars

F. E. Pettis of Petaluma has been arrested at San Jose on the charge of extortion, a warrant having been issued for his incarceration after Judge T. R. Dougherty has listened to one of the most remarkable stories ever told in the local police court.

In effect the charge is that Pettis sold his wife, Lottie Pettis, to Louis Seek of Santa Clara for $10. The price was satisfactory to all concerned, but there was a row when Pettis, having put the money into circulation, demanded more and threatened a disturbance when his demand was refused.

Three weeks ago Seek and the woman were driving on the Monterey road. They met Pettis and a scene ensued, during which the $10 changed hands. Mrs. Pettis told Judge Dougherty that she had believed herself divorced from Pettis, having given $20 to a Petaluma attorney, whose name the police are witholding, for divorce papers. The attorney told her that the payment of his fee was all that was necessary to get a divorce, and she believed him. She came here and went though a proper marriage ceremony with Seek.

That was eight months ago. Three weeks ago, when they met on the public road, Pettis threatened Mrs. Pettis with arrest for bigamy and said he would charge Seek with a statutory offense. Seek considered it a good bargain when they told him they would sell their charges for $10, and paid over the money. He objected, however, when Pettis wanted further installments, and threatened to shoot Pettis. The latter then became so annoying that they came to the police.

– Santa Rosa Republican, March 4, 1912
SHOOTING AT HEALDSBURG
Italian Brothers Have Trouble Over Lifting Log

The brothers Denucci, who reside some miles west of Healdsburg in the Dry Creek section, got into an altercation on Sunday and Sheriff Jack Smith and some of his deputies were called to the scene from this city.

Trouble began over the simple matter of lifting an ancient log, which was on their place. In the melee that followed, one of the brothers was cut in the eye, but he is unable to account for the exact manner in which he was injured, whether he was cut with an axe, struck with a club or fell down and collided with some object.

Finally one of the brothers secured an old shotgun and discharged it at his kinsman, then he skipped out for the hills and has not been seen since.

Deputy Sheriff Ben Barnes went out to the scene of the trouble from Healdsburg immediately after being notified of the shooting, but he could find no trace of the man who wielded the shotgun. Later he notified Sheriff Jack Smith, and the latter took Deputy Sheriff Donald McIntosh and C. A. Reynolds in his auto and hastened to the scene. Barnes joined the party at Healdsburg and went with them to the place where the shooting occurred.

The officers remained in the vicinity until after dark, searching for the man who did the shooting, but were unable to locate him. It is believed he will return to his home Monday and be picked up by the officers.

– Santa Rosa Republican, March 11, 1912

SOME ANCIENT HISTORY ASKED
 County Official Receives a Peculiar Request

 A prominent county official received a letter on Monday, asking for information which has not been located in the records of the county. It is possible that some of the pioneers of this section may know of the occurrence mentioned, and be able to supply the information desired. The letter follows:

 “I would like to find out the time W. L. Rude was put in jail for stabbing Eph. Baldwin, and the date of his acquittal. This occurred some time in the early 70’s. E. Latipee was sheriff and Willis Mead was the city marshal at the time. This occurred in a fight in Adkins’ saloon. Jim March shot the city marshall, Willis Mead. Please let me know, if you can find out the dates, and oblige.

 “P. S.–George Tupper, who used to run the Occidental Hotel, can tell you about it. So can Clem Kessing or Trib Fulkerson of your city.”

– Santa Rosa Republican, May 28, 1912
INDECENT ACTIONS OUTRAGED WOMEN

 Sunday the members of the Sheriff’s office were busy, running down a man named Bauducka of Kenwood, who earlier in the day had offended women and children in that city by vulgar actions. He gave the officers a good chase before captured [sic]. Three shots were fired at him before he was arrested.

– Santa Rosa Republican, December 9, 1912
ROBBERS ROB FELLOW ROBBER
How So-Called Honor Among Thieves is Shown

The old saying is that it is no crime to steal from a thief, but how far this will hold in law is a problem, says the Ukiah Press. Sheriff Byrnes of Mendocino county has uncovered a case that would stagger the old soothsayer. It is in connection with the recent robbery of Shimonisky’s clothing store at Willits, for which Jack Kelly was arrested in Santa Rosa last week.

It develops that the robbery was committed by two men, Smith and Wilson, who cached the plunder. Smith, who was a friend of Kelly’s, went to him and told of the robbery and then suggested that they changed the plan and beat Wilson out of his portion. This was done and the plunder moved. Kelly then got to thinking over the matter and decided that it would be no more than right to rob Smith, so he accordingly swiped the goods from his friend and got away with it.

 Wilson certainly deserves no sympathy for being robbed, as he was a thief. Smith should have been robbed for being a thief and also for putting up the job to rob his partner. As a retribution for Kelly’s part in the crime he was the first arrested and caught with the goods. Smith was arrested in Fairfield Monday and Wilson is located and will probably be captured soon.

 The men were all clever thieves, but they figured without a knowledge of Sheriff Byrnes being the cleverest crook catcher in the county.

– Santa Rosa Republican, December 21, 1912

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OUR PECULIAR WAYS DIED HARD

By 1911 the new, modern century had fully arrived in Santa Rosa, but apparently not everyone had received the memo.

Continuing the theme of the past few articles, in 1911 Santa Rosa was catching up to Bay Area cities; downtown was looking more cosmopolitan with its paved streets, electric trolley and several movie theaters. Here’s another example: The new modernity was also reflected in the kinds of ads that began to appear, and that was presumably because shoppers reflected Santa Rosa’s expanding middle-class.

Compare the men’s fashion ads at right; the lower one appeared in 1909 and the top ad was from 1911, both from the Press Democrat. The 1909 ad emphasizes price (twice!) and the man in the drawing seems as average looking as possible – not to mention appearing uncomfortable, maybe even itchy in his ill-fitting wool suit. In the 1911 hat ad the price isn’t mentioned at all, featuring instead a man with chiseled good looks smoking a cigarette (the first appearance of smoking in any PD ad). The emphasis on value was a hallmark of ads aimed at farmers or working-class guys who only bought Sunday suits; the stylish hat ads were aimed at men who wanted to look suave around town.

The local newspapers were also becoming overall more urbane; better graphics, more cartoons and improved reproduction of photographs made both the Santa Rosa Republican and Press Democrat look more on par with a daily paper from Berkeley than one from a country town such as Ukiah, where stores were still pushing discount duds. But that modern look to the papers makes it all the more jarring when you stumble today over a story that’s a throwback to Santa Rosa’s wilder and woolier (and sometimes weirder) times. Several examples from 1911 are transcribed below.

Sometimes it’s not that the events are remarkably peculiar – people always do damned peculiar things every day – it’s just that these were odd bits to get written up in the newspaper. Take the story about Mrs. Patterson, a “prominent resident of Rincon Valley.” One midsummer morning she reached for her jar of epsom salts – a popular choice as a laxative in the day – but instead grabbed her bottle of sugar of lead (lead acetate), then used to color hair but also a mild poison.

Who on earth would keep a bottle of poison next to their similar-looking health remedies? Surprisingly, it must not have been that unusual back then because a year before the town’s veterinarian swallowed a “digestive tablet” after dinner, then realized in horror it was actually a mercury bichloride pill, “enough to kill several persons.” Reaching into our great-grandparents’ medicine cabinet was like playing russian roulette. (For those curious about “sugar of lead:” Yes, it was historically used like sugar and the Romans consumed great quantities of it in sweetened wine – read this thorough discussion.)

Also hard to comprehend today: Why carpenter Clayton Shockley and attorney Peter Schlotterback got into it on Fourth street over the ownership of a handsaw. It seemed Schlotterback accused the workman of stealing it from him a couple of years earlier, and before you knew it, the carpenter was beating the attorney in the head with his hammer and the Schlotterback was trying to saw off a portion of Shockley’s noggin. Both ended up bloody from the fracas. Okay, maybe it was a really, really nice handsaw, but honestly: Two middle-aged men in 1911 trying to kill each other over a handsaw? It was as nuts as the story a few years earlier where two men were fighting in court over ownership of “a valuable varmint dog” – which had actually died.

Then there’s the odd 1911 story of Otto Ulrich, a sausage maker who proved remarkably flammable. It seems he was going about his sausage making when he happened to catch fire, due mainly to his apron and clothing being so soaked in grease that he was something of a human candlewick. He ran to a large tub of water but was unable to get in, due to “the mammoth boots which he wore in the sausage making room” (go ahead and Google for “sausage boots” – you know you want to). His co-workers saved his life by turning a hose on him but his head was burned, along with all of his hair.

It’s also interesting to note the disgusting details of that story only appeared in the Republican, which was Santa Rosa’s afternoon newspaper; it was probably wise for the morning Press Democrat to go easy – many PD subscribers were probably having breakfast as they read their paper, and would not be happy to contemplate how much of that smoky flavor in their eggs and sausage might be essence of Otto.

This wasn’t as gruesome as some industrial accidents reported in years before, but given this incident occurred five years after publication of Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle” and the wide public outcry over horrific working conditions in the meatpacking industry, it’s appalling that nothing apparently had changed since the Nineteenth Century over at the Noonan Meat Company, Santa Rosa’s slaughterhouse. Let’s hope a clipping of that article turned up on a desk at the state health department.

Another item right out of the previous century: A guy on Fifth street began shooting at a Chinese man he suspected of wrongdoing, then formed a mob to hunt him down in Santa Rosa’s two-block Chinatown.

Frank Munday claimed the man was prowling around his house and thought the man intended to kidnap his three year-old daughter. Munday’s fears were pulled straight from the pages of lurid dime novels and sensationalist yellow journalism stories; 1911 was near the peak of the national white slavery mania, and a common plot described Chinese men snatching young women off the streets to smuggle them to Asian brothels. Munday took a sniper’s position overlooking the front of his house and later told a reporter he began shooting when he saw the prowler trying to open a window. As this was all happening early Sunday evening as church services were getting out he attracted much attention with his rifle fire. At no point were the police notified, according to the Press Democrat story.

Finally, the PD made its own contribution to the list of 1911 oddities with a new warning to naughty children. Not seen in the paper since 1908, these items once appeared often – a sample can be found here, and is best read imagining the voice of Simpsons’ character Mr. Burns – always warning that a dire fate awaited little rapscallions who trampled flowers or dropped slippery orange and banana peels on the sidewalk. (Yet curiously, when a former Santa Rosan actually did die in 1909 from slipping on a banana peel in San Francisco, the PD reported it with a couple of terse paragraphs and no sermonizing. Go figure.)

In that new item, PD editor Ernest Finley railed against misbehaving whipper-snappers with slingshots, and the big cudgel this time was being arrested by a game warden for shooting at federally-protected songbirds. “So if the fathers and mothers of exuberant young hopefuls wish to avoid trouble of having to go down and bail the young hopefuls out some of these fine mornings, they would better see to it that their young hopefuls carry no sling shots, and that they let the birds alone.” The boys were also shooting at people, and the paper cautioned “there is danger of grave injury if boys are allowed to possess these things and use them.” Hey, kid, here’s a buck if you can knock the cigarette out of the mouth of the guy with the snappy hat.

(Follow these links to articles on similar 1910 peculiarities and odd crimes.)

PROTESTS MADE AGAINST SLINGSHOT NUISANCE

Complaints are frequent that Santa Rosa boys are amusing themselves and tormenting other people with that devil’s device known as the slingshot, an artillery-like contraption made of a forked stick and two rubber bands. Several persons have been struck by missels [sic] from these weapons, and the results have been painful. And always there is danger of grave injury if boys are allowed to possess these things and use them. Their possession is forbidden by city ordinance, and it is threatened that the ordinance will be invoked against some of the youthful offenders if the offense continue.

Also it is said that the boys with slingshots are making targets of the birds in the old college park. That constitutes another offense against the law, for many of these birds are songbirds of the species that the law protects. So if the fathers and mothers of exuberant young hopefuls wish to avoid trouble of having to go down and bail the young hopefuls out some of these fine mornings, they would better see to it that their young hopefuls carry no sling shots, and that they let the birds alone.

– Press Democrat, March 11, 1911
WOMAN TOOK SUGAR OF LEAD BY MISTAKE

Mrs. Patterson, a prominent resident of Rincon Valley, made a mistake Friday morning in taking a dose of medicine, and swallowed a quantity of sugar of lead instead of Epsom salts. The woman noticed her mistake at once and a hurried call was made for Dr. Jackson Temple by phone. Dr. Temple made a rapid trip to the Patterson residence in his automobile and soon had the woman out of danger. Mrs. Patterson is still quite ill from the effects of her mistake, but will recover.

– Santa Rosa Republican, July 29, 1911

SAUSAGE MAKER BADLY BURNED
Clothes Catch Fire When in Smoke House

Otto Ulrich, sausage maker at the Noonan Meat Company, was severely burned about the left arm and had the hair singed from his head on Thursday morning.

The man went into the smoke house to attend to some of his duties there, and his apron and other clothing caught fire. He ran from the smoke house to a large tub of water and began splashing water on himself to quench the flames.

Not succeeding as well as he had expected, he shouted for help and fellow employees turned the hose on him and extinguished the flames. Just how the blaze was communicated to the clothing of the man is not known.

Ulrich was unable to get into the tub of water because of the mammoth boots which he wore in the sausage making room. After the fire was extinguished the man was taken to Dr. J. W. Jesse’s office to have his burns dressed and the pain relieved. His overalls were burned from his body and his head was burned, the hair being consumed rapidly. The grease which had collected on the clothing worn by the man made them inflammable.

– Santa Rosa Republican, September 14, 1911
BLOOD FLOWS IN LIVELY COMBAT
P. L. Schlotterback and C. P. Shockley Mix Things With a Hammer and Saw as Weapons

A hammer and a saw, with a man behind each, clashed in a bloody combat in the new Hahman building on Fourth street on Thursday afternoon, and for the time being there was considerable excitement. Both men came out of the combat with real wounds, bleeding wounds, too, which had to be patched up by physicians. The men in the mixup with the impromptu implements, usually devoted to placid forms of labor, were attorney Peter L. Schlotterback and C. P. Shockley, the latter a well known carpenter employed on the building.

 Schlotterback strolled into the building Thursday afternoon and seeing a number of carpenter’s saws picked up one, so the story goes, and inquired the name of the man who was using the particular saw he had in his hand, saying that it belonged to him. Shockley stepped up on hearing claim being laid to his saw, and demanded to know whether the attorney meant that he had stolen the saw, adding that it was his saw and that he could give the name of the man from whom he purchased it. He also stated that he could buy saws and was not bound to take tools that did not belong to him, and had not done so.

 Some angry words were exchanged between the two and a suggestion from Schlotterback that probably Shockley had not come honestly by the saw was resented by the carpenter, who smote his accuser over the head with a blow from a hammer handle. Quick as a flash Schlotterback struck the carpenter over the head with the saw, following it up, so other workmen present say, with other blows. Shockley turned to run and the lawyer pursued him and when Shockley stumbled and fell another blow with the saw was aimed at him. Then the combat ended.

 Blood was streaming from the wounds on Shockley’s head and from the wound on Schlotterback’s head by this time. Officer Ramsay came and Schlotterback walked away with him toward the police station. No complaint was filed, however.

 Shockley was taken to the office of Dr. G. W. Mallory and the blood was washed from his wounds. One cut on the top of his head required four stitches to close. Another cut on the back of his head required a like number of stitches. Another deep cut was made on the carpenter’s arm.

 In the meantime Schlotterback had sought the assistance of Dr. J. W. Jesse to have his wounds treated. Dr. Jesse found he had sustained a big contused wound on top of the head, evidently caused by the hammer handle with which Shockley admits he first struck Schlotterback. He also received a nasty gash in the hollow of the hand.

 Both men had the fronts of their shirts covered with blood, evidence that something had been doing.

 Shockley was employed by Schlotterback in making some repairs upon a house about two years ago, and then a saw was missed. While Schlotterback had his suspicions aroused, he says it was not until Thursday afternoon that he discovered the saw which he says is his. On the other hand, Carpenter Shockley says the saw is his, and not Schlotterback’s, and that he bought it from a man whose name he can furnish. And there you are. There is no mistaking the fact that for a few seconds there was a lively fracas over the disputed ownership.

It was not known Thursday night whether there would be any legal proceedings growing out of the dispute. After the wounds had been dressed Schlotterback inquired at the building for the saw and was told it was being detained at the police station. When Shockley was being led away to Dr. Mallory’s office his parting injunction to his fellows was, “Don’t let Schlotterback get that saw. It’s mine, and not his.”

– Press Democrat, November 3, 1911

HE TAKES SHOTS AT CHINESE PROWLER
Frank Munday Believes Chinaman Was Bent on Kidnapping His Little Daughter

Frank Munday , who resides on Fifth street, near E, took several shots with a rifle at a Chinaman who had been prowling about his residence for several hours Sunday night. He opened fire when he detected the Celestial on the porch endeavoring to open a window.

Neither of the bullets took effect in the Mongolian’s anatomy and he fled like a scared wolf to the inmost researches [sic] of Chinatown, and despite a [illegible microfilm: there was a search aided by Munday].

At the time of the rifle fusilade [sic] great excitement prevailed as many people were on their way to the different churches. The Chinaman had followed Mrs. Munday and her little three-year-old daughter when they were returning from a walk on Sunday afternoon. From then on until dusk he hovered about the Fifth street residence and was noticed by a number of the neighbors of the Mundays. The object of his attention seemed to be the little girl, and in the absence of any other reason for his presence and an attempt to enter the house, Munday believes the Chinaman was bent on kidnapping the child.

When he returned home shortly after seven o’clock on Sunday night Munday found his wife considerably alarmed over the Chinaman’s actions, and taking his rifle he stationed himself at a point of vantage and when he discovered the uninvited visitor making for the window he opened fire.

– Press Democrat, April 25, 1911

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THE PECULIAR WAYS WE WERE

Let’s go hunting for the “peculiar” items in the 1910 Santa Rosa newspapers – the offbeat or odd or just damned strange. This time the theme is mostly advertising; Gentle Reader might also want to check out “Did’ja Hear About…” which covers other odd news stories for the year and “The Peculiar is What is Missed Most,” which is the roundup of similar articles from 1909.

Before getting to the funny stuff, some housekeeping is necessary, as this is the final entry for the year 1910. By this time the Comstocks were well settled in to Santa Rosa, as described in a separate item. Also covered previously was the death of Maria S. Solomon, the mother of Mattie Oates, whose demise three weeks into January must have cast a shadow over their fine house on Mendocino avenue. Hints also appeared in the society columns that Mattie’s health was beginning to fail. In April she and Wyatt spent a month in Southern California, where they made auto trips with close friends Mrs. Dorothy Farmer and her daughter Hazel. On their return the Press Democrat gossip columnist remarked “she is well and strong again.”

The new year had started cheerfully for the Oates; on New Years’ Eve, he served as master of ceremonies at a large card party at the Saturday Afternoon Club. There he handed out prizes for events such as the “gentlemen’s noise contest,” where undertaker W. B. Ward’s drum won out over a state assemblyman’s cow bell and the former mayor’s bread pan. Other than that, it was another quiet year for the semi-retired lawyer (he was 60, she was 52). They also spent a week at the ranch of friends near Duncan’s Mills and as was their custom, hosted an extended visit by an ingenue of marriageable age, this time the niece of famed judge Amos P. Catlin. Their other houseguests were the Farnhams, a San Francisco couple often mentioned in the city papers. Mrs. Farnham was a prominent clubwoman and Dr. Daniel C. Farnham was an osteopath and a leader in the “National League for Medical Freedom” – a special interest group set up to fight the creation of a national public health bureau on the claims that it would hamper “individual rights.” As this was completely out of step with the Progressive Era they were widely condemned as tools of the patent medicine makers, who funded their prolific amount of advertising. Whether or not the Oates’ agreed with these aims is unknown, but the connection with the Farnhams could have been long-standing; at a 1911 rally, Dr. Farnham was introduced by Barclay Henley, Oates’ first law partner in Santa Rosa.

Our first 1910 peculiarity is the clever ad above for Joseph Tarzyn, a Russian-born tailor whose shop was at 406 Fourth street. (And no, his name had nothing to do with the popular Tarzan character, whose first story would not appear until 1912.) To the right is another advertisement for Professor Whittier, exhibition roller skater; we met the good professor earlier in another bizarre photo where he seemed to be staring down a row of mismatched kitchen chairs. His “coast to death” involved jumping through fire and here he exhibits “clubfoot skating,” which was surely every bit as offensive as it sounds.

Out at Bodega Bay there was another type of jumping and awkward movement reported as Mrs. John Turner, fed up with being cussed out by her neighbor, pulled out a gun and began making him dance in the manner familiar to anyone who has watched a Yosemite Sam cartoon. “He at first demurred,” the Press Democrat dryly noted, “but when the gun was brought into play he changed his mind, and as one shot followed another, he danced faster and faster, until finally a bullet hit him in the hip which ended the dance.” The cusser was not seriously injured; the cussee discussed the matter with a judge a few days later and was released on parole.

Alas, the papers did not report what happened in the case (as far as I can tell) but it’s likely she only paid the customary fine of $5 for each shot fired; gun violence was not viewed with special concern – recall the 1907 shootout where a member of the Carrillo family did not spend a day in jail after shooting a man in the chest, yet his wife was behind bars for 30 days for public drunkenness in the same incident. And anyway, profane and vulgar language in the presence of a virtuous woman or child was considered as serious as physical assault, so the court may well have viewed Mrs. Turner’s “dance music” as a kind of self defense.

Handguns were also routinely carried and handled without modern concerns about safety – accidents of men shooting themselves through a pants pocket or coat were so frequent I stopped keeping track. That many people were routinely packing heat may or may not seem unusual today (depending upon your politics) but the ad below certainly falls into the peculiar pile. The “Yellow Kid,” an impoverished but cheerful waif, was the best known and best loved cartoon character of the day; using his image to sell firearms is a bit like Colt or Remington licensing the image of cowboy Woody from Toy Story to endorse real shootin’ irons.

The downtown hardware store presented the Yellow Kid in another firearms ad that similarly used a dash of funky speling for whimsy (“You Cant Miss It” his nightshirt read as he carried a shotgun while waving a revolver in the other hand). Unfortunately, someone with the Epworth League of Santa Rosa’s Southern Methodist church didn’t understand a little of that schtick goes a very long way, and their entire notice about an upcoming dance was written in a mock childlike Swedish-Irish (?) patois that was nearly inkomprehensibl:

YU AIR AIST TU A POVERTY PARTY
SEPT. 23, 1910

That us folks of the Epwurth Leeg of the Methodist church, South, air goin to hav in the Leeg rume. If you kant finde it kum tu the church on Fifth an Orchurd streets.

These air ruls wil be enforced tu thee leter:

1. A kompetant cor of menergers an aids will be in attendunce.
2. The hull sassiety wil interduce strangers an luk after bashful fellers.
3. Fun wil begin tu kommance at 8 o’clock.
4. Tu git into the rum yu wil hav to pay tin sents; tu git enything tu eat yo wil hav tu pay 5 sents.

Kum at Kandle lightin’ an stay until bedtime. No obstreprus er bad boys permitted.

Signed. The Kommity.

But the most peculiar ads of all that year were the campaign ads for a man running for County Surveyor, the sort of political job that usually draws hardly any attention at all. The fellow apparently covered the town with so many little posters it became a newsworthy item for the Press Democrat: “A unique little ‘paster’ is being used by J. C. Parsons, the Democratic nominee for County Surveyor, to further his campaign. It shows Mr. Parsons in action, and was gotten up by him personally. The little pasters are everywhere, and one is produced here for the benefit of our readers.” But it was his big ad in the PD, shown below, that has to win some sort of award for strangeness. (“Worst. Ad. Ever,” as the Simpsons’ character Comic Book Guy might say.) The unphotogenic Mr. Parsons lost by a landslide to the incumbent surveyor George H. Winkler, who promptly died. It was bad enough to lose after spending quite a pile of coin on the ads but as it was apparently known that Winkler had been quite ill for some time, it must have truly stung that the voters still preferred a nearly-dead candidate.

The last peculiarity of 1910 concerns Doc Summerfield, the town’s veterinarian. One evening after supper he pulled a bottle off the shelf and popped down a “digestive tablet.” To his horror he realized that he had picked the wrong jar and had swallowed a mercury bichloride pill instead, “enough to kill several persons,” according to the Santa Rosa Republican.

Let us pause for a moment and contemplate what sort of idiot would keep identical bottles next to each other when one contained a terrible poison and the other had an old-fashioned version of Tums. Let’s also wonder why he had mercury bichloride anyway, which was mainly used in tiny doses to treat syphilis, and ponder further if that meant he was still operating his side business – in 1908 he was mentioned as one of several upstanding Santa Rosans who was a landlord for a brothel on First street.

Summerfield ran to Hahman’s drug store downtown and was given an emetic plus some sort of antidote “hypodermic.” There is no clear definition of what that might have been; medical literature published the following year stated colloidal silver seemed to work best, although the drawback was that large doses might turn the patient’s skin a shade of metallic blue-grey known as Argyria. Three doctors rushed to the pharmacy to attend Dr. Summerfield but there was little they could do except observe (perhaps they all whipped out their pocket revolvers and were taking bets as to whose gun metal would soon match his complexion). By the following day the Doc was doing fine and presumably reorganizing the shelves in his office.

DR. SUMMERFIELD TAKES POISON

Mistook it for Digestive Tablets; Close Call

A mistake that might have been fatal was made by Dr. J. J. Summerfield Friday evening just after he had eaten his supper. Only his presence of mind and promptness saved him from death. He took a tablet containing bichloride of mercury, thinking that it was some of his digestive tablets which he had been taking after each meal.

It was about 8 o’clock when Dr. Summerfield went into the room which adjoins his stables and hospital on First street and in the dark he took down a bottle which he supposed contained his digestive tablets, and took one of them. As he returned the bottle to the shelf he noticed that he had gotten hold of the wrong bottle and that he had taken a mercury tablet, which contained about seven and a half grains of the poison, enough to kill several persons. He immediately ran to the Hahman drug store on Exchange avenue and there told them what he had done and asked for an emetic. Physicians were also called and it was not long before Doctors Cline, Bogle, and Bonar were at the doctor’s side.

Before Dr. Summerfield arrived at the Hahman drug store, a messenger more fleet of foot had preceded him and announced what had happened. Paul T. Hahman had an emetic ready and also gave him a hypodermic. This counteracted the effects of the poison, and later the physicians reached the patient. J. Walter Claypool and Dr. J. H. Rankin remained with Dr. Summerfield  until long after midnight and he was resting easy at the time.

On Saturday Dr. Summerfield was doing nicely, and all danger from the poison he had taken had entirely passed away. It was only the fact that the doctor knew what a deadly poison the stuff was and the promptness with which he went to the drug store for antidotes that he owes his life. Dr. Summerfield  is also a very big, strong man and has a good constitution, which also helped him throw off the effects of the poison.

– Santa Rosa Republican, March 26, 1910

I heard of a “patent medicine” party the other night. The idea was carried out not in the administering of medicines to the guests but in the adornment of the rooms with all sorts of advertisements. Prizes were awarded those who proved the most proficient in the guessing contest that located the advertisements with the medicine to which they belonged. It afforded much merriment.

– “Society Gossip”, Press Democrat, June 19, 1910

FORCED TO DANCE TO THE TUNE OF WHISTLING BULLETS AS MUSIC

Mrs. John Turner of Bodega Bay created considerable excitement on the bay shore Saturday when she compelled Captain Hart, a pioneer of that section, to dance on the beach by firing shots at his feet and between his legs to emphasize her commands.

The trouble is one of long standing. The Turners, husband and wife, reside on the country road, near Bodega Bay, while Captain Hart is a neighbor. They have had considerable trouble of various kinds at various times, so that when the Captain pulled a plank out of the water Saturday and left it on the beach and returned later discover that it had been thrown back into the water by his enemy, he could stand it no longer.

According to the story which reached here Monday, the Captain, in addressing Mrs. Turner, used language far more expressive than polite and better fitted for use on sailing vessels than in polite society on land. When he had exhausted his vocabulary and stopped for breath, Mrs. Turner took a turn at telling the Captain what she thought of him, and then ordered him to dance. He at first demurred, but when the gun was brought into play he changed his mind, and as one shot followed another, he danced faster and faster, until finally a bullet hit him in the hip which ended the dance.

Mrs. Turner was taken before Justice Cunninghame Monday, and after some discussion, she was allowed to go on parole until Wednesday, December 14, when the case will again be called in court. Meanwhile it is expected that Captain Hart will fully recover from his wound.

– Press Democrat, November 29, 1910

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