Huntington Historical Society

I must apologize to my loyal readers for the delay in posting this week. I was once again forced to travel, this time to Youngstown, Ohio. Now if you’ve never been to Youngstown, you’re not missing a lot. It’s not a bad place. But on the other hand, it’s not a great place either.

If you happen to be from Youngstown, well… that’s the breaks.

I was trying to decide what to write about this week, and felt it was a great time to introduce Blind Blake. Now, I’m not really sure what you might think of the Blues, but we love it here at the Huntington home and we have an extensive collection of (public domain) blues songs which we always enjoy listening to. We hope you enjoy Blues as well.

Blind Blake, born “Arthur”, was a late 1920’s artist who recorded some 80 tracks for Paramount. Not a lot is known about Blake. It’s guessed that he was born about 1893, and drank himself to death sometime in the mid 1930’s (presumably, 1933). And that’s about ALL that’s known about Blind Blake.

He had a distinct guitar sound that has been stated is similar in style to a ragtime piano.

Here’s the only known photograph of Blake. No others are known to exist.

In August of 1929 he recorded Diddie Wa Diddie, and we’re going to give you a chance to listen to it. I think it’s a great, representative, example of Blakes style, while Mrs. Huntington thinks it’s a cute name (she’s a sick woman). But anyway, here it is below, and as usual, we’re going to give you the lyrics so you can sing along!

Lyrics

There’s a great big mystery, and it sure is worrying me
This Diddie Wa Diddie
This Diddie Wa Diddie
I wish somebody would tell me what Diddie Wa Diddie means.

The little girl about four feet four, come on papa and give me some more,
of your Diddie Wa Diddie, your Diddie Wa Diddie
I wish somebody would tell me what Diddie Wa Diddie means.

I went out and walked around, somebody yelled, said, “Look who’s in town”
Mister Diddie Wa Diddie
Mister Diddie Wa Diddie
I wish somebody would tell me what Diddie Wa Diddie means.

Went to church, put my hand on the seat, lady sat on it said, “Daddy, you sure is sweet”
Mister Diddie Wa Diddie
Mister Diddie Wa Diddie
I wish somebody would tell me what Diddie Wa Diddie means.

I said, “Sister, I’ll soon be gone, just gimme that thing you sitting on”
My Diddie Wa Diddie
My Diddie Wa Diddie
I wish somebody would tell me what Diddie Wa Diddie means.

Then I got put out of church, ’cause I talk about Diddie Wa Diddie too much
Mister Diddie Wa Diddie
Mister Diddie Wa Diddie
I wish somebody would tell me what Diddie Wa Diddie means.

That’s pretty much what Blind Blake was doing on August 17, 1929. And, oh yes, he recorded that in Richmond, Indiana, which is not Youngstown, so that’s probably a good thing.

Phineous Zivick Huntington
July 18, 2007

Now, I wouldn’t really blame you if you’ve never heard of Anne Bonny. She was an 18th Century Pirate, and one of the few women known to have taken up that particular line of work, and her reputation for treachery was significant.

She was born in Ireland sometime in the late 1600’s, the illegitimate child of her fathers maid.  Her appearance led to some domestic problems between her father and his real wife at the time, probably one reason Mrs. Huntington has never seen fit to let me hire her a maid.  Anyway,   he was forced to give up a legal practice in shame as a result of the scandal, after which he emigrated to America with his maid and new daughter, Anne.  He managed to build another practice, and purchased a large plantation in Charleston, South Carolina.

 Legend has it that she fell in love with, and married, a Sea Captain at the age of 16.  Apparently, it turned out to be a weak relationship and Anne eventually found a way to escape by meeting  ”Calico Jack” who happened to be a pirate.  Captain Jack Rackham snuck Anne aboard his ship dressed as a man.

 The stories go that she never hesitated to prove herself equal to the boys.  In fact, most accounts indicate that they were terrified to death of her.

Her pirating days came to an end in 1720 when Calico Jack’s ship was boarded by troops off Jamaica.  Condemned to death, Anne received a temporary reprieve after “pleading the belly”.  That was an old English common law which gave women a short reprieve from execution while waiting for a late term child to be born.

And that’s about the last that  was heard of Anne Bonny.  There’s no record of her execution, pardon or release.  She basically just disappeared with a lot of speculation.  Some claimed that a ransom was paid for her release, while other stories hold of a pirate rescue.  It’s something we’ll never know.

Anne Bonny
Illustration circa 1725

Phineous Zivick Huntinton
July 7, 2007

It’s been an interesting week at the Huntington home.  We just returned from a trip to the Atlantic Coast, hence the short delay in my post this week.

I returned to a bunch of spam.  These are comments left with no intent other than website promotion.  There is nothing wrong with that in itself, unless it’s extremely obvious.  So I’m thinking I should have some kind of ground rules:

*  If you post a dozen links to websites to buy cialis,  viagra or similar sites, then it’s obvious spam.  Not only will I treat it like spam the first time, I’ll continue to treat it as such the next 5 times you post it.  Don’t waste your time doing it more than once.

*  If your promoting a website for a politician, it’s spam.  If I can’t put a link for my website on Don Paul’s presidential website,  then he can’t have one on my humble little blog.  Ron Saul should be reminded that the last politician I had respect for was Thomas Jefferson, so the welcome mat won’t be visible anytime soon.  Politicians and Bankers are considered to be equal vermin in the Huntington home, some of which I’ve touched on previously here.

Other than that, I don’t mind folks who want to post links.  Just don’t make your intentions so obvious that my BS meter jumps into the red.

But, onto a learning, historical, moment.   The internet has corrupted the word “spam”.  Previously, most people immediately recognized it as the canned pork and beef product from Hormel.

 I’ve never really cared for that variety of spam either.  I can eat it on occassion, but it doesn’t really suit me for a meal or even a snack.

Many folks have the mistaken idea that Spam was invented for the GI’s of World War II.  It actually predates the war, and was first introduced to the public in 1937.

The Spam people, Hormel, have a great interactive website.  It’s cartoonish and you can spend hours there not accomplishing anything except having a few laughs.  Give it a try sometime when you’re bored.

When I was in the Army, they were still using C-Rations and one of the staples was a canned meat similar to Spam.  I liked the Army version a bit better.  In fact, it was probably the most palatable C-Ration you could get.  The rest of them, YUK, and that’s it for this week.  Spam, 1937… now you know.

Phineous Zivick Huntington
July 2, 2007

I guess I should open this by immediately saying that there’s been no major tragedy or accident and everybody is alive and in good health. But it has been a sad week, given that they aired the final episode of the season for our favorite program, “The Deadliest Catch”. We consider The Deadliest Catch to be the highlight of the week. It’s really the only thing we look forward to seeing amongst 300 channels on TV.

If you’ve never watched The Deadliest Catch, you’re really missing out on something. This show is absolutely fantastic, rating right at the top with “Bonanza”. Some people don’t remember Bonanza, but if you know anything about the Huntington family, we consider it to have been one of the greatest television programs ever! That is, until we got hooked on The Deadliest Catch, which is so good that we’ve even bought the DVD sets.

The Deadliest Catch is a Discovery Channel effort, covering crab fishing on the treacherous Bering Sea. To some folks, that probably doesn’t sound very exciting, but it really is, and I think a big part of the addiction in watching the show is that these guys are doing something that most people, men anyway, secretly fantasize they could do themselves.

After watching, it goes without much saying that these guys are doing extremely exhausting, dangerous and challenging work. And most of them seem to love it, and they do it very well!

Now, my mind will often wander away when I’m watching the show to where I’m 20 years younger and working on one of those boats. This is the fantasy part I mentioned earlier. You see, I’m a bit middle aged now, but in my younger days I would have been a great crab fisherman. I’ve watched the show enough and I know it for a fact. Obviously, I would have had some minor obstacles to overcome, such as my tremendous fear of large bodies of water. Or, make that, any body of water.

It’s just the water. The rough seas wouldn’t bother me. I was in the middle of nowhere once, and within a mile of two or a tornado touching down and it scared the living hell out of me. But, it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t function. It was absolutely terrifying, but I didn’t fall apart.

On the other hand, I can be out on a sunny day amongst the singing birds and pleasant skies, totally content unless I happened to stray within 5 feet of a fishing pond. One ripple, and I’m totally petrified. I don’t like it. Anything larger than a mudhole in the driveway just scares me to death. I don’t like boating, water skis or the beach. I can fish as long as I can stay at least 10 feet away from the shore; and the water is extremely calm; and I’m wearing a life vest; carrying a flare gun, and there’s no snakes around.

But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have been a great crab fisherman. Get rid of all that water, and I could be a natural at it.

I joke, of course. They say they get a lot of “Greenhorns” who just drop the ball because most men can’t do it, and I would obviously be one who would probably become a burden. I’d have the smoking and coffee-drinking down to a science, but with the first wave they would have to shoot me for the safety of the rest of the crew and the boat.

And I think that’s what the draw is for The Deadliest Catch… I can watch it, and still imagine myself doing it, and really wishing I could try it at least once. I’ve checked a few of the websites for the crews involved, and none of them are hiring at the moment or I would probably take a gamble on it. Because anyone who’s ever met Mrs. Huntington can understand a mans fantasy about urgently escaping to a crab boat on the Bering Sea.

After each show, I wind up checking the website for The Deadliest Catch, as well as passing some time with some research on crab fishing and the Bering Sea. I’ve also picked up some great photographs from our favorite dealer. Here’s just a few tidbits I’ve picked up:

Amazing, but did you know that Americans used to buy most of their crab from the Japanese who operated floating canneries in the Bering just off US territorial waters? The first US based, commercial, canning operations weren’t started until the 1940’s as a result of World War II. Prior to that, over 95% of our crab meat was purchased from the Japanese.

Here’s a mid 1940’s catch by American fisherman, on an unknown boat:

One of our favorite recent episodes involved Captain Johnathan Hillstrand of The Time Bandit, maneuvering through heavy ice near St. Paul harbor. From my readings, the ice up there is supposed to be devastating. I managed to get this early photograph of the S.S. Portland, stuck in the Bering Sea ice around 1901.

The S.S. Portland, not to be confused with the earlier paddlewheel steamer of the same name, was a 191 foot wooden hull ship which sank in 1910. It had helped launch the Klondike Gold Rush. It was also a notorious smuggling ship for narcotics and weapons, having actually been seized by the US Government at one time. Here’s another early photo of the S.S. Portland stuck in the ice off Alaska.

Lastly, I picked up this great photo of some old gent showing a crab to a little girl. The other Victorian looking boy is playing with another crab on the pier and the dog is staring off, contently, into space. I imagine he’s dreaming about working on the Northwestern with Sig and Edgar Hansen, as we all are these days.

Photo by Fritz W. Guerin - 1901

You’ll probably have to tolerate me discussing The Deadliest Catch again in the future. It’s a great way to get away and dream for an evening.

Phineous Zivick Huntington
June 23, 2007

I’ve started, yet another, determined effort to give up smoking.  Now this has nothing to do with health concerns or any type of social stigma, but economics.  It’s hard to enjoy the nasty habit when, between the State & the Federal governments, a pack of Marlboro is running $9.

 That’s what I just finished paying at a WalMart in Arlington Heights, Illinois.  Heck, even the sub-generic brands, which kill you faster, are running $5 a pack. At that price, it’s getting time to give it up.

Smokers, nowadays, take a lot of heat from those who’ve never taken up the habit.  Times have definately changed, even in my short lifetime.  When I had started, it was pretty acceptable.  Or perhaps the anti-smoking folks just weren’t so vocal back then.  But it wasn’t until about the 1980’s that the smoking bans slowly started being enacted and annoying people decided to constantly start nagging smokers that we’re killing ourselves.

We all know it’s bad.  So if you’re an anti-smoking nagger, you’re not accomplishing anything by being annoying about it.

In any event,  to show the marked contrast with earlier times, there was a fellow by the name of  Thomas Hariot who wrote a report on Virginia based on his travels to the New World  in 1584 to 1586.  It was first published in 1588.  It’s pretty interesting reading, covering many things and subjects, but in it, he describes Uppowoc, or what we now call “tobacco”.

There is an herb called uppowoc, which sows itself. In the West Indies it has several names, according to the different places where it grows and is used, but the Spaniards generally call it tobacco. Its leaves are dried, made into powder, and then smoked by being sucked through clay pipes into the stomach and head. The fumes purge superfluous phlegm and gross humors from the body by opening all the pores and passages. Thus its use not only preserves the body, but if there are any obstructions it breaks them up. By this means the natives keep in excellent health, without many of the grievous diseases which often afflict us in England.

This uppowoc is so highly valued by them that they think their gods are delighted with it. Sometimes they make holy fires and cast the powder into them as a sacrifice. If there is a storm on the waters, they throw it up into the air and into the water to pacify their gods. Also, when they set up a new weir for fish, they pour uppowoc into it. And if they escape from danger, they also throw the powder up into the air. This is always done with strange gestures and stamping, sometimes dancing, clapping of hands, holding hands up, and staring up into the heavens. During this performance they chatter strange words and utter meaningless noises.

While we were there we used to suck in the smoke as they did, and now that we are back in England we still do so. We have found many rare and wonderful proofs of the uppowoc’s virtues, which would themselves require a volume to relate. There is sufficient evidence in the fact that it is used by so many men and women of great calling, as well as by some learned physician

Thomas Hariot - 1588
A Brief and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia

So, it took society 420 years to figure out what almost every smoker will tell you in a heartbeat.  It’s bad, we know.  Thomas Hariot was wrong…. he must have never actually smoked the stuff.

Phineous Zivick Huntington
June 16, 2007

I’m a little angry today, so it’s an opportune time to talk a little bit about Alexander Hamilton in 1791. Most folks have heard of this guy at one time or another, and I think a lot of them carry the mistaken belief that he was one of the earliest Presidents.

Hamilton never made it to the White House, but he was the first Secretary Of The Treasury, serving in that position from September 11, 1789 to January 31, 1795.

He made other trivial accomplishments as well, but the only real thing you have to remember about Alexander Hamilton is that he was responsible for the first Whiskey Tax in the United States. If that’s not enough reason not to trust a guy, then surely what he did in 1791 is.

As Secretary of the Treasury in 1791, Alexander Hamilton lent his support to moving the capital from Philadelphia. In exchange, he picked up enough support for his “bank project” which ultimately passed Congress and the First Bank Of The United States was chartered. Prior to that, Banks had been private.

Hamilton had some noteworthy opposition to the creation of his bank. That is, if you consider James Madison & Thomas Jefferson to have been noteworthy. The two were bitter antagonist to the bank, which they considered to be nothing but a means towards corruption and financial manipulation.

I’m personally not very well read on James Madison, but Thomas Jefferson was a pretty sharp fellow. If you’ve never read about Jefferson, you should. I’ve never had anything personal against Alexander Hamilton but, frankly, I don’t think he was qualified to shine Jefferson’s shoes. Jefferson was a giant among men, and Hamilton was a banker… nothing more has to be said.

Anyway, before I continue, here’s a photo of Alexander Hamilton. Photography didn’t exist at that time, so it’s actually a photo of an original painting by John Trumbull, the brilliant artist who, apparently,  liked to paint portraits of annoying bankers.

I’ll dig up a photo of Jefferson at another time as he deserves a seperate conversation altogether.

Now, if you haven’t picked up on my sarcasm, it only needs to be said that I don’t think much of bankers other than that they are probably a necessary evil. But in my opinion, and you can think about it what you may, they are of the same ilk as car-jackers, hypocrites, liers and all the other miscreants which society is unfortunately forced to deal with. In fact, I suspect that they were just born a little bit too clumsy to practice their craft on subway trains, like other pickpockets, so they got themselves an office job instead.

Now, overall, I’m sure there are some fine bankers in the world. I think I met one back in 1978 or so. But for the most part, I’m inclined to stick with my beliefs. In fact, anytime I start to get a soft spot and upgrade my opinion, some banker turns up to reaffirm my belief that society is putting the wrong people behind bars.

It was during a recent visit to M&T Bank in Mahoney City, PA. that I was once again reminded that Congress doesn’t hold a monopoly on chiseling folks out of their money.

I’m from the old school, with a clear understanding that when I put money into a bank, it’s my money. They are only holding it for me, and if it’s an insignificant amount, they will usually charge monthly fees for the privelege of leaving it with them. If a person is fortunate in life, he can leave a lot more in them and, for that, they’ll usually waive the monthly fees and maybe even pass along some token amount of interest.

But it’s not their money.  It belongs to their depositers, such as myself. And when I draft a check on my account, I expect it to be honored as it’s my money.  The bank is merely providing a service for which I pay.  If adequate funds are available, the check is honored, or so I always thought.

But it seems that M&T Bank has come up with a new way of grabbing your wallet. They now charge a token $5 fee to cash checks written by their account holders. So if I pay a plumber for doing some work, he has to fork over $5 before M&T Bank will give him my money.

Basically, M&T refuses to honor their checks, unless you hand over that $5 ransom.

Now to be fair to M&T Bank, regardless of whether they deserve it, they will waive the $5 if your plumber would only open an account with them also. Their policy also waives the $5 fee for State paychecks.

I wonder why they waive the fee for State employees?

 I reckon it would have taken about a week for sufficient numbers of State workers to scream loud enough that the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would have found a new banker.

M&T Bank is obviously smart enough to understand that the Commonwealth knows who the money belongs to, and would have little tolerance for them rooking the unfortunate employees who were just expecting a bank to honor it’s own paper.

M&T Bank did mention that all the banks were doing it now, which is not true as I managed to find a friendlier facility in 20 minutes.

You’re probably asking  why I’m writing about this?

Because it’s my blog and I can. And it made me feel better. It’s also highly relevant to the aims of the Huntington Historical Society, and an opportune time to reflect on earlier times.

“I sincerely believe… that banking establishments are more dangerous than standing armies…..”
Thomas Jefferson to John Taylor, 1816

Phineous Zivick Huntington
June 9, 2007

Yard sale season is in full swing now, and I finally let Mrs. Huntington out of the cellar after her last excursion as I talked about here.

She rushed home with a great find today,  much better than that box of shoe lasts’.  It was a nice gesture, although I’m more inclined to believe that she stopped off at an antique store to find something adequate enough to warm me to the idea of yard sales every weekend again.

Anyhow, she returned with an old Billy Williams record.  He was a very popular Music Hall performer, called “The Man In the Velvet Suit”, from the early days of the 20th Century.

Williams was born in 1878 as Richard Isaac Banks.  An Australia native, he moved to England where his fame was made in London’s Music Halls, as well as at the listening end of phonograph horns all over the world.

Here’s a photo of him:

Sadly, Billy Williams passed away suddenly in 1915, at the height of his popularity,  proving once again that…. well, it proves something witty which eludes me at the moment.

 One of his most popular numbers, “When Father Papered The Parlour”, was written by the English songwriters, Robert Patrick Weston and F.J. Barnes. 

Now a lot of folks who’ve never heard of Weston have probably heard “I’m Henery the Eighth, I Am”.  That was another, early, Weston song which was revived by Herman’s Hermits.

But, back to “When Father Papered The Parlour”,  Mrs. Huntington and I have always loved this song.  It’s just hilarious and probably best epitomizes Williams’ onstage persona.  Here it is, have a listen!  I’ve tossed in the lyrics so you can sing along!

Lyrics

Father Papered The Parlour But He Had No Right To Do So!

Our parlor wanted papering, and Pa says it was waste
To call the paperhangers in, and so he made some paste.
He got some rolls of paper,  a ladder and a brush
And with me Mother’s nightgown on, at it he made a rush.

When Father papered the parlour
You couldn’t see Pa for paste
Dabbing it here and dabbing it there!
There was paste and paper everywhere
Mother was stuck to the ceiling
and the kids were stuck to the floor
You never saw such a blooming family So ’stuck up’ before.

What do you think of poor old Father?

Soon dad fell down the stairs and dropp’d the paperhanger’s can
On little sister Mary sitting there with her young man,
The paste stuck them together, as we thought t’would be for life,
We had to fetch the parson in and make them man and wife.

When Father papered the parlour
You couldn’t see Pa for paste
Dabbing it here and dabbing it there!
There was paste and paper everywhere
Mother was stuck to the ceiling
and the kids were stuck to the floor
You never saw such a blooming family So ’stuck up’ before.

We’re never going to move away from that house any more
For Father’s gone and stuck the chairs and table to the floor,
We can’t find our piano, though it’s broad and rather tall,
We think that it’s behind the paper Pa stuck on the wall.

When Father papered the parlour
You couldn’t see Pa for paste
Dabbing it here and dabbing it there!
There was paste and paper everywhere
Mother was stuck to the ceiling
and the kids were stuck to the floor
You never saw such a blooming family So ’stuck up’ before.

Billy Williams recorded that in 1912, and he sure sounded like he had a good time doing it.  We often wonder what he might have been like on stage.  His Music Hall performances are legendary and it’s a shame that such an incredible talent had his life cut short.

Someday we’ll share some more Billly Williams, we have quite a bit.  As for now, I’m off to do some painting.  I gave up wallpaper a long time ago.

Phineous Zivick Huntington
June 2, 2007

Often referred to as the “Father Of Modern Body Building”, Eugene Sandow was born as Friederich Wilhelm Mueller in Königsberg, Germany on April 2, 1867.  He was discovered in Italy by Florenz Ziegfeld, and recruited for his show at the age of 19.  One of Ziegfeld’s top performers, Sandow also organized the first body building competition in 1901, and was well recognized as an astute business man until his premature death in 1925 at the age of 58.  And thus ends our very short reference to Eugene Sandow.

Original image photographed in 1893 by Napoleon Sarony, N.Y.

Phineous Zivick Huntington
May 26, 2007

This weeks tid-bit comes from a 1916 publication by Popular Mechanics.

The broom holder shown in the sketch is made of an ordinary hinge with one wing screwed to the wall. The loose wing has a large hole drilled in it to receive the handle of the broom. The manner of holding the broom is plainly shown in the sketch.
–Contributed by Theodore L. Fisher; Waverly, Ill.

The Boy Mechanic: Volume 1
700 Things for Boys to Do

Phineous Zivick Huntington
May 19, 2007

This is one of our favorite old reads, dating nearly 200 years old and long before the days of the government having much interest in such matters. Originally published in Kentucky, this was translated from french.

of  The Distiller Of Whiskey.  

Whiskey is made either with rye, barley, or Indian corn. One, or all those kinds of grains is used, as they are more or less abundant in the country. I do not know how far they are mixed in Kentucky; but Indian corn is here in general the basis of whiskey, and more often employed alone.

I have ascertained, in the different distilleries which I have visited in the United States—

1stly. That, in general, the grain is not sprouted. I have, however, seen some distillers who put 10lbs. of malt into a hogshead of fermentation containing 100 gallons, which reduces it to almost nothing.

2dly. That they put two bushels of ground grain into a hogshead of fermentation containing 100 gallons, filled up with water.

3dly. They had a ferment to determine the fermentation, which, when finished, yields two gallons of whiskey per bushel of grain, and sometimes ten quarts, but very seldom. I do not know whether those results are exact; but, supposing them to be so, they must be subject to great variations, according to the quality of the grain, the season, the degree of heat, of the atmosphere, and the manner of conducting the fermentation. From my analysing the different sorts of grains, I know that Indian corn must yield the most spirit.

From the above proportions, it results, that 100 gallons of the vinous liquor of distillers yield only 4 gallons of whiskey, and very seldom 5; that is, from a 25th to a 20th. It is easy to conceive how weak a mixture, 25 parts of water to one of whiskey, must be; thus the produce of the first distillation is only at 11° or 12° by the areometer, the water being at 10°. It is only by several subsequent distillations, that the necessary concentration is obtained, to make saleable whiskey. These repeated operations are attended with an increased expense of fuel, labor, and time.

Such are the usual methods of the whiskey distillers.

By ANTHONY BOUCHERIE,
OF LEXINGTON, KY.

LEXINGTON, KY.
PRINTED BY WORSLEY & SMITH.
1819

Phineous Zivick Huntington
May 12, 2007