Increase Mather on Ball Lightning

One of my many interests includes perusing old books and newspapers for anything related to weather phenomena or strange occurrences that are hard to explain in a so called rational way. There have been some good books published on the subject over the years. The collected works of Charles Fort contain oodles of reports taken from old newspapers. A great recent source of information regarding weather is a book written by Randy Cerveny called Freaks of the Storm: The World's Strangest True Weather Stories. Oh, and of course, if anyone is listening out there I wrote a little book called Fireballs: A History of Meteors and Other Atmospheric Phenomena. A little unabashed self promotion never hurts anybody. Some classic books that are in my collection, and that I recommend are the works of Ambrose Pare called Of Monsters and Marvels which was written in the 16th century, and the works of Julius Obsequens who wrote about natural curiosities sometime in the 2nd or 3rd century. Another early writer of oddities was Increase Mather. His book Remarkable Providences was first published in 1684. Mather was the President of Harvard College and minister of the North Church in Boston. He is also the father of Cotton Mather, author of Wonders of the Invisible World who is often known for his involvement in the Salem Witch Trials in 1692.

     Increase Mather was born in New England on June 21, 1639. He was the son of Richard and Katherine Mather. His father was a minister of the gospel so it was only natural that his son followed in his footsteps. As a young man Mather sailed for England and received a Master of Arts at Trinity College in Dublin (Sanseri Int.) After Cromwell's fall and the restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, Mather sailed for Boston, rather than be forced to take up the Anglican communion. He became a prolific writer and was a leading figure in 17th century New England Puritan theology.  His Remarkable Providences recorded instances where people had witnessed apparitions (ghosts) and told of miraculous stories of people being delivered from almost certain death at sea only to be saved by what he termed "the works of the lord." His chapter on thunder and lightning records an early occurrence of what I believe to be Ball Lightning. Mather writes:

July 31, 1658, there happened a storm of thunder and lightning with rain, in the town of Marshfield, in Plymouth colony in New England. Mr. Nathanael Thomas, John Phillips, and another belonging to that town, being in the field, as they perceived the storm a coming, betook themselves to the next house for shelter. John Phillips sat down near the chimney, his face towards the inner door. A black cloud flying very low, out of it there came a great ball of fire, with a terrible crack of thunder; the fire-ball fell down just before the said Phillips; he seemed to give a start on his seat, and so fell backward, being struck dead, not the least motion of life appearing in him afterwards. Captain Thomas, who sat directly opposite to John Phillips,about six feet distance from him, and a young child that was then within three feet of him, through the providence God, received no hurt; yet many of the bricks in the chimney were beaten down, the principal rafters split, the battens next the chimney in the chamber were broken, one of the main posts of the house into which the summer was framed rent into shivers, and a great part of it was carried several rod from the house; the door before Phillips, where the fire came down, was broken.

Another possible encounter with Ball Lightning as recorded by Mather:

On the 18th of May (being the Lords day) A.D. 1673, the people of Wenham (their worthy pastor, Mr. Antipas Newman, being lately dead) prevailed with the Reverend Mr. Higginson of Salem to spend that Sabbath amongst them. The afternoon sermon being ended, he, with several of the town, went to Mr. Newman his house. Whilst they were in discourse there about the word and works of God, a thunder-storm arose. After a while, a smart clap of thunder broke upon the house, and especially into the room where they were sitting and discoursing together; it did for the present deafen them all, filling the room with smoke, and a strong smell as of brimstone. With the thunder-clap came in a ball of fire as big as the bullet of a great gun, which suddenly went up the chimney, as also the smoke did. This ball of fire was seen at the feet of Richard Goldsmith, who sat on a leather chair next the chimney, at which instant he fell off the chair on the ground. As soon as the smoke was gone, some in the room endeavoured to hold him up, but found him dead; also the dog that lay under the chair was found stone dead, but not the least hurt done to the chair. All that could be perceived by the man, was, that the hair of his head, near one of his ears, was a little singed. There were seven or eight in that room, and more in the next; yet (through the merciful providence of God) none else had the least harm. This Richard Goldsmith, who was thus slain, was a shoemaker by trade, being reputed a good man by the main; but had blemished his Christian profession by frequent breaking of his promise; it being too common for him (as with too many professors amongst us), to be free and forward in engaging, but backward in performing; yet this must further be added, that half a year before his death, God gave him a deep sense of his evils, that he made it his business, not only that his peace be made with God, but with men also, unto whom he had given just offence. He went up and down bewailing his great sin in his promise-breaking; and was become a very conscientious and lively Christian, promoting holy and edifying discourses, as he had occasion. At that very time that he was struck dead, he was speaking of some passages in the sermon he had newly heard, and his last words were, Blessed be the Lord.
     
        In early September 1998 my wife and I decided to take a road trip from my adopted state of North Carolina to Vermont. Along the way we stopped at many historical sites which dotted the landscape. One of these stops was at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York. We arrived late on the evening of September 6th and searched high and wide for a hotel. Everywhere we looked we were dismayed to find the ubiquitous "NO VACANCY" sign lit up in all of its neon glory. We were about to despair and resign ourselves to spending the night in the car when we found a small motel with only one word lit, "VACANCY." I thought that perhaps the neon letters "NO" had flamed out years before, especially after getting a second look at the place. In fact, I was almost convinced of it! It was a seedy looking dump with one of those signs in the window that said "Color TV." Are you serious? Color TV? That alone will get me to stop every time. Needless to say, it was not this thirty year old antiquated sign that had me pulling into the motel parking lot. It was the lack of sleep that had me turning the doorknob of the front office.

          "You are lucky folks" said an old man sitting behind the front desk. "We have one room left." I thought to myself "perhaps there is a reason why no one has taken that room...I paid the old man cash since that was the only payment he would take, and he handed me a key to the room. "Have a good nights rest." he said in a way reminding me of Norman Bates. "I'm sure we will "I remember thinking as a sickening vision of cockroaches and bedbugs passed through my head. The next morning we were going to pay a visit to the Saratoga battlefield a few miles down the road. At that moment, however, after being on the road all day, we could think of nothing but sleep. It had been a nice drive through Pennsylvania and New York, and we did not run into any foul weather along the way. I did notice a few drops of rain on the windshield of the Firebird as I pulled into the motel, but I did not think any more about it until after we had turned in and the sky decided to open up. Soon we could hear the rumbling of thunder  in the distance, and see the flashes of lightning through the cheap curtain covering the window in our room. Slowly the thunder became louder, and the flashes of lightning more frequent and intense. it soon became one of the most violent storms that I had ever experienced with strong wind gust added to the fury. After a while the storm abated somewhat and the thunder became more distant as it receded to parts not relevant to our station. I thought that I might actually get a little bit of sleep on the rock hard bed when I suddenly became aware of an illuminating glow at the window. Curious, i got up and parted the curtain slightly and found myself looking at something across the street that had me a bit perplexed. I can best describe it as a globe of light, almost too bright to look at directly. It appeared to be about the size and shape of a basketball, but I must admit that I could have been deceived by the distance. The ball of light was pulsating as if it were attempting to increase in size. It was also moving in a small arc toward the sky. It appeared to be a good twenty feet or so off the ground. After watching it for ten or fifteen seconds I called my wife, who was just getting up, when suddenly the flaming ball exploded in a blinding flash which caused me to temporarily lose my vision. It was sort of like looking at the arc of a welders torch. After slowly regaining my eyesight I began to ponder the cause of this strange light. I first believed that it was a transformer that exploded. However, even indoors with the door shut and the window closed I still should have been able to hear the loud pop from one of these exploding, but it was a silent explosion. The next morning i examined the ground where i had viewed the fireball, but could find no trace of a transformer. So if it wasn't a transformer that I observed on the evening of September 6th, 1998 what might it have been? I can think of no other possible explanation than to say that the mysterious globe of light was Ball Lightning.

Early depiction of Ball Lightning

     
         Mather had never heard of Ball Lightning. To him these atmospheric disturbances were the result of Gods hand. We still do not know what causes Ball Lightning. Several theories have been proposed. A recent article in National Geographic suggests a few possibilities. One of them is that plasma clouds are made up of charged particles that form new atoms. These charged plasma bodies emit a light that we see as Ball Lightning. Another competing theory suggests that traditional lightning may trigger the phenomena. This makes sense seeing that most cases of Ball Lightning seem to occur during or just after a thunderstorm. This theory holds that right after a lightning strike, a vapor forms which then condenses into particles which amalgamate with oxygen. This oxygen rich environment then burns away. The result being a massive amount of electrical energy that has created a chemical reaction. This causes the glow that we see in Ball Lightning.

www.fireballhistory.com

A Certain Encounter: Emperor Hirohito

Japan is one of those countries that a foreigner either likes or dislikes. This might depend upon the age of the person and the time that they spent there. I was intrigued by Japan. My uncle Raymond Hipkins probably disliked Japan. He had a good reason. In April of 1945 he found himself hunkered down in a foxhole clutching an M-1 rifle as if it were an extension of himself. It was during the battle for Okinawa. He was a member of the 174th Combat Engineers out of Fort Devens Massachusetts. In 1987 I found myself on "The Rock" as it is called by those who have ever served there. Unlike my uncle Ray, I did not have to worry about being shot by Japanese soldiers, or burned alive by a flamethrower. The war had been over for 42 years. It was peace time, and I was merely there to do my duty. Although 42 years had elapsed since the Japanese surrender, the residue of war still lingered in the air. I found the residents of Okinawa to be very pleasant and kind, although somewhat cautious and perhaps a bit weary of the United States military presence. Most of the Marines stationed there did not want to be there. When not on duty, or on some field operation they typically spent their time carousing in the red light districts that naturally gravitated outside of the camps like a plague. Pay day was like Mardis Gras, and a lot of guys went through their whole paychecks in one night. The streets were patrolled by both MP's and JP's (Japanese Police) who traveled in pairs and carried batons to subdue unruly jarheads. Most Marines traveled in groups and occasionally fights broke out in a bar or out on the street. One night I chanced upon a dead body lying in the street. It was a Japanese man that had apparently been beaten to death. A small crowd had gathered around the body, and I decided not to stick around. Another night I found myself involved in a bar fight that involved everyone who happened to be in the bar whether they liked it or not. I am not a big guy so I naturally attempted to find a hole out of the bar. Unfortunately, for me, I found myself grappling with some dude that seemed to have just materialized in front of me. I am not even sure how it happened but I ended up on the ground. I somehow managed to get this fellow in a headlock using the wall as a brace. He was bigger than me so I was careful to prevent him from escaping to set me up for a series of strikes. I can remember thinking to myself that I could keep him in that hold all night, but that if he got loose he would kill me for sure. I tried to put him to sleep, but he had a big thick neck. It wasn't long before the MP's and JP's were in the bar swinging their big sticks. I don't remember how I got out of there unscathed, but I somehow managed it.

      One evening I was hungry and decided to set out in town to find a bucket of Yakisoba. Unfortunately, I happened to come upon a brawl in the middle of the street. I was not sure what the hell was going on, but from afar I watched as one huge corn fed looking Marine seemed to be fighting off a whole gamut of men, and seemed to be enjoying himself while doing it, cursing and challenging all comers. He reminded me of the Viking who held off a good portion of the English Army at Stamford Bridge singularly holding the bridge until a cunning Englishman rowed a boat underneath it and sent a lance up through one of the chinks killing him. I guessed that somebody would have to come up through a man-hole to take out this Hercules, but then I remembered that I was in Japan, there were no man-holes, only open sewers. I prudently decided not to oblige this beasts challenge and took a side street to avoid a possible confrontation. It was a dark alley, and it wasn't long before I heard someone hissing at me. I turned to see a buxom, middle aged woman standing in a doorway. She beckoned for me to come nearer, but since I adhere to the old maxim that caution is the better part of valor, I decided to ignore her knowing full well her intentions.
Although the night life consumed a large part of most Marines liberty I sort of went against the grain and would occasionally head out into the country to meet people and see the scenery. On one of these occasions I happened to cross paths with the subject of this post, Hirohito, Emperor of Japan.

                                             Emperor Hirohito (1901-1989)

     It was about the time that the cherry blossoms were out. I took the bus to Naha on the south part of the island. I intended to check out the city away from the corrupted influence of my own countrymen. I spoke almost no Japanese except for the occasional phrase that I had been teaching myself. I surely could read nothing, but fortunately a lot of signs are written in English. The farther one ventured from the military camps, the less anyone understood my native tongue. I found myself wandering the streets and was surprised to see a "Mr. Donut." I had to smile when I saw the familiar orange and white logo of a chef. I even pulled some yen from my pocket and scoffed one of them down. They were nothing like they were back home, less sugar, and not as fluffy. I soon found myself attracted to a huge crowd that had gathered in a park. I wondered what all of the commotion was all about so I decided to have a look. Straining to get a good view I was uncertain of what the crowd was looking at when I suddenly became aware of what it was. There was an old man being carried in a litter. He was stoic and regal-like wearing a pair of spectacles that came half way down his nose. What was this?... Who was this? The litter was borne aloft by 4 or 6 burly men, I forget the exact number, for my attention was on the gentleman in the litter. Was it Toranaga? If he was Toranaga than I was surely Blackthorne! I couldn't understand what people were saying, but it was somehow implied that this man was the Emperor of Japan! Was this possible? Was I staring at Hirohito? I watched as the litter was placed down and the elderly man was helped inside of a car. Soon, the car and it's convoy of police vehicles departed the area and the crowd slowly dispersed leaving me to wonder what I had just witnessed.

It has been 25 years since this insignificant observation made by a 19 year old youth who still to this day remains in the dark as to what he actually saw. I have done searches to see if Hirohito made a visit to Okinawa in 1987. I have found nothing. Was it Hirohito? or was it perhaps someone else...another dignitary? It looked like Hirohito to me...but perhaps it was not ...perhaps it was his ghost, or maybe I imagined the whole thing, or dreamed it, and now believe it to be true! My memory is chopped and only fragments of this day survive in my mind. Does it really matter? I left Japan a few months later, and as of this writing a quarter of a century later I have not been back...Why would I go back...how could I possibly beat this memory...this illusion... of something that might or might not have been!

Christopher Columbus: UFO or Meteor?

Let me take you back to the evening of Thursday October 11, 1492. Christopher Columbus' ships had taken a southwesterly course two weeks earlier in the hope of running into "Cathay" (China) which he believed lay somewhere past the horizon. However, he had no way of knowing that a continent and another ocean lay between him and his destination. In fact, when he did eventually reach land the next day, he was certain that he had succeeded in his endeavor. Columbus' small fleet of three ships had not seen land since leaving the Canary Islands back on September 06. For the men on this voyage they were literally heading into the great unknown.One can only picture the scene some 500 years later. Columbus himself, standing on the sterncastle of the Santa Maria, his flagship, peering out into the vast lonely darkness that lay ahead of them to the west. Was he correct? Would they reach Cathay or Cipango (Japan) by heading west instead of east? Or had he duped himself into believing that such a thing was possible? He must have begun to wonder whether or not some of the superstitious members of his crew were correct. Would they sail into a murky sea where there lurked large sea-monsters that could grab hold of a ship and carry it down into the watery depths? Or even more startling, would they merely sail off the edge of the world into a great chasm or void? The crew had almost mutinied three days earlier, but Columbus had managed to placate them. However, he was now at the end of his tether. If land was not spotted in the next couple of days, he would be forced to turn back, or worse...thrown into this foreign sea by a disgruntled crew. It would be an ignominious end of a journey that had started with so much promise. Columbus was probably hashing these things over in his mind while he stood there stoic-like on the deck of his flagship. Perhaps he could see the outline of the Nina or the Pinta against the backdrop of an endless and monotonous horizon. Suddenly, however, something caught his attention. His eyes captured a light low in the western sky later described as "a little wax candle bobbing up and down." Excited, he called out to his loyal servant Pero Gutierrez who confirmed that the Admiral's vision was true. Columbus later wrote that this light was "moving up and down." Another man, Rodrigo Sanchez was summoned to bear witness, but apparently by the time that he arrived the light had vanished. Columbus was overjoyed and ordered a salvo of the guns. Four hours later, at 2:00 A..M. a crewman on board the Pinta cried out that he could see land in the distance.

                                            The Nina, Pinta, & The Santa Maria  

     The mysterious light seen by Christopher Columbus has been the subject of debate for centuries. What did he see that night? It has been suggested that he might not have seen anything. The light was imaginary, and Columbus was only trying to revive the downcast spirit of his crew. Perhaps this was his way of feeding them a glimmer of hope. However, this does not explain the second witness Pero Gutierrez who also saw the light. Unless, of course, he was in on the deception.

     The American writer Washington Irving was best known for The Sketchbook. It contained morbid and sometimes fantastical tales such as The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and Rip Van Winkle. However, he was also a biographer of Columbus. He was convinced that the light that Columbus saw that night was attributed to humans. He wrote:

Columbus called Rodrigo Sanchez of Segovia and made the same inquiry. By the time the latter had ascended the round-house, the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice afterwards in sudden and passing gleams; as if it were a torch in the bark of a fisherman, rising and sinking with the waves; or in the hand of some person on shore, borne up and down as he walked from house to house.

     Another 19th century biographer Justin Winsor, was a bit more skeptical. He added a little arithmetic into the equation, which, if anything, showed that the mysterious light could not have come from land. Winsor believed that Columbus had to have been at least 12 to 14 leagues from the island that he would inevitably land the next morning. Using the lower of these numbers, this would mean that the Santa Maria, with Columbus perched on the sterncastle, was at least 36 miles from San Salvador when he supposedly spotted the light.Given that distance and the low elevation of the island of San Salvador it appears highly unlikely that the light he saw came from that island. In fact, due to the curvature of the Earth it would seem almost impossible. The possibility arises however that the light was cased by a fisherman in a canoe, but the canoe would have to have been a good ways from the shore. Also, at 10:00 P.M. it would seem unlikely that any fisherman would be that far from the shore, but the possibility cannot be discounted.

                                           Christopher Columbus (Abt.1451-1506)   
     So if we can almost positively say that the light was not the result of some human traveler, we need to turn our attention to natural phenomena. It is possible that the light could have been a star or planet glimmering on the horizon, perhaps distorted somewhat by atmospheric conditions. However, we cannot forget that Columbus was a professional mariner. He was well acquainted with the night sky, and if the light had been a star or planet, he surely would have recognized it for what it was. At this point in the journey the three ships had reached the 24th parallel. The sky would have changed somewhat from the patterns familiar to the higher latitudes of Europe. However, Columbus was no stranger to this latitude. The Canary Islands lie at roughly the 25th parallel, and he was familiar with the sky around those islands. Due to this reasoning it seems likely that the light he saw was not a star or planet. This leaves only a few more possibilities. It could have been a rare phenomenon known as Ball Lightning. However, there is no mention of any storms being present on the night in question. Since Ball Lightning is almost always associated with stormy conditions we can safely rule this out. Could it have been a meteor? This is a good possibility. There are a few aspects of this theory that make it plausible. First of all, and most obvious, is the short duration of the light. Columbus only had time to call one witness to his side to confirm the sighting. By the time that Rodrigo Sanchez appeared on the scene the light was extinguished, or at least no longer visible to the men on the ship. Secondly, the light was described as "moving up and down," or "like a little wax candle." Fireballs are sometimes said to flicker, especially ones with long trains that give off sparks. At first glance it would seem that the description of "a light moving up and down" would negate the fireball theory. This would be true if the fireball was witnessed from the land, but we must remember that Columbus was standing on the deck of a ship. This percieved movement can easily be attributed to the ships rolling on the waves which would naturally change the elevation of an object seen close to the horizon. An optical illusion perhaps?

     The mystery of this strange light might have been solved had Columbus thought to ask the natives if they had seen any strange lights in the sky the night before. If he did, it is nowhere recorded, and most likely he did not bother to ask. Not only was there a language barrier between the Americans and the Europeans, but Columbus was convinced that the light he had seen came from some torch or fire from the island. Therefore, the possibility of a fireball from the heavens probably never entered his mind. Unless new evidence arises , perhaps in the form of a journal from the time hidden away in some dusty corner of a moth-eaten library, it appears that we can only speculate. The true nature of Columbus' mystery light will probably never be known for sure, but a fireball makes as much sense as anything, and is the most logical conclusion that I can come up with....unless...perhaps...the enigma was caused by something otherworldly...of intelligent desighn.

www.fireballhistory.com

William Henry Harrison: President or Vampire?

When I was seven years old I memorized all of the Presidents of the United States from a dinner mat that was set in front of me at a hotel restaurant in Washington D.C. I was fascinated by the timeline and even memorized the years that each President served. There was George Washington with his powdered periwig, and James Buchanan with his stiff collar and tilted head that looked as if he might be winking at me. There were the bearded Presidents like Rutherford B. Hayes who I thought might have been a lumberjack. I also wondered why Franklin Pierce never combed his hair. Needless to say these first impressions of the Presidents coming from the mind of a seven year old boy now appear to that same individual at the age of 43 to be everlasting...yet absurd. I know now that the bearded President Hayes was never a lumberjack...or that President Buchanan was never personally winking at me, but for some reason in some corner of my warped mind I still believe that maybe, perhaps these first childish impressions might be true! Probably the most ridiculous notion crossed my mind those many years ago when Gerald Ford was President had to do with the 9th President William Henry Harrison. Was Harrison a vampire?

                                                   William Henry Harrison (1773-1841)

     There was something sinister about the portrait staring back at me through the depths of time. Maybe it was the wide upturned collar...or perhaps the dark eyebrows and the elongated nose. I couldn't quite make sense of it, but I was convinced that William Henry Harrison and Count Dracula were one and the same...or was it Bela Lugosi? It was a good thing that Harrison wasn't smiling in the portrait or his teeth would have been a dead giveaway! Of course nobody was smiling on that Presidential mat except for tricky Dick Nixon. Although I now know with some degree of certainty that Harrison was not a blood sucking vampire I am still reluctant to trace his ancestry back fearing that it might lead me to the Carpathian mountains in Romania. Anyway, what was even stranger to my 7 year old self was the fact that there was only one date in front of his portrait. The date was 1841. Every other President had at least two dates in front of their portraits, but not Harrison. Why was this? I didn't know at the time but I found out later that old Tippecanoe had caught a cold after delivering his inaugural speech in March of 1841. He died of Pneumonia within the month, the shortest Presidency to date. Pneumonia...at least that is what the history books tell us...before we all found out that Abe Lincoln was a vampire hunter.

Zachary Taylor: Cherries and Milk Anyone?

In recent years there has been quite a lot of speculation that the 12th President of the United States was murdered. Conspiracy theories are the rage in this day and age of instant communication, and progressive technological improvements that we can hardly keep up with. How about a second shooter on the grassy knoll, or perhaps a controlled demolition of the twin towers? (although it does seem rather suspicious that more than two buildings fell when only two planes hit them...just a thought) So what is the deal with Zachary Taylor? Is there a 162 year old conspiracy theory here?

     The official cause of President Taylor's death has gone down in history as being due to a bad stomach ache. Most historians accept the conclusion that Taylor died of gastroenteritis. On July fourth 1850 President Taylor and other dignitaries attended Independence Day celebrations at the site of the Washington Monument which was under construction. It was a hot day but Taylor and his companions took in the festivities relaxing under a large awning. Witness' say that Taylor surfeited on cherries and milk, and that he took ill. He lingered for a few days before succumbing to this mysterious illness on July 09, 1850. This was the second time in a decade that a sitting President had died in office. Taylor had lasted less than a year and a half. A funeral oration given by Benjamin Thompson in Boston Massachusetts summed up the general feeling of the country at the time:

Alas! It is even so! Death has conquered another and a noble victim, and called a nation to mourning; this great people, throughout this vast Republic, has been suddenly startled by the sad intelligence that its respected, honored, and beloved chief magistrate, Zachary Taylor, is no more!

                                                       Zachary Taylor (1784-1850)
     
      According to Benjamin Thompson, the President had been in good health before the ceremony on July the Fourth. The Chicago Daily News Almanac stated that Taylor had died of "Cholera Morbus, induced by improper diet." So...did the 12th President of the United States die from a lethal overdose of cherries and milk? In 1991 in an effort to put the matter to rest, Taylor's body was exhumed and tissue samples of his hair and fingernails were taken to see if he might have died from a lethal dose of arsenic poisoning. In other words...had someone killed him? The results were rather ambiguous, but it was determined that the arsenic levels in Taylor's body were too low for that to be the cause of his death. Does this prove that Taylor was not murdered? Of course not...there are many ways that a man can be poisoned...but who would have wanted to kill the 12th President of the United States?

                                 A Haunting Picture Of Taylor And His Cabinet
       
       Zachary Taylor was not a politician. He was a career soldier who had fought with distinction during the War of 1812, and the more recent Mexican War where he had won brilliant victories over the Mexican army at the battles of Buena vista, and Monterrey. The Whig party was looking for a viable Presidential candidate to take on the Democratic contender. Most Whigs had been anti-war and although supporting the troops during the recent war, they looked at James K. Polk's policy of Manifest Destiny with a degree of skepticism and suspicion. Taylor was looked at as a sort of compromise candidate. He was a southerner from Louisiana. Although he owned a plantation with slaves he was averse to the expansion of slavery into the recent land acquisitions taken from Mexico in the late war. Was this a reason for possible murder? Possibly? But what would there be to gain for pro-slavery southerners with the death of Zachary Taylor? Millard Fillmore? This would have been plenty of reason for someone to do away with Taylor. Fillmore had supported the Fugitive Slave Act, and the Compromise of 1850 which angered many northerners who regarded Fillmore as being nothing more than an appeaser to the south. What about a northern conspiracy to off Taylor? Abolitionists despised the President for owning a plantation with slaves. In fact, a whole new party emerged during the election of 1848 led by northern abolitionists who referred to their party as the "Free Soil Party." Although limited in number these free-soilers gathered up a good chunk of votes in the north. Could one or more of these free-soilers conspired to kill Taylor?

      We will probably never know with any certainty whether Zachary Taylor was murdered by pro-slavery southerners, or free-soil northerners, however...the motive was there. Abraham Lincoln, who had stumped for Taylor during the 1848 election gave a eulogy at City Hall in Chicago on July, 25th 1850. Lincoln said: "but he is gone, The conqueror at last is conquered. The Fruits of his labor, his name, his memory and example, are all that is left us-"
What is left Mr. Lincoln...162 years later...is a legacy of cherries and milk.

The Unexpected # 202

When I was a kid I enjoyed collecting comic books. Back in those days comic books were affordable on a child's budget. They were also not designed for an adult audience as they are today. Baseball cards were also designed for kids to collect and enjoy. The late 1980s and early 1990s saw baseball cards and comic books turn from a child's hobby to an adults greedy investment opportunity. The market became saturated with the stuff. A collectible craze took hold in the United States. Big pot-bellied American men with cigars in their mouths rented warehouses and stocked up on cards and comics as future investments. They were going to get rich...or so they thought. The card and comic people gladly smiled and raised the prices on their wares knowing what would eventually happen. Anybody with a rudimentary knowledge of economics is familiar with the concept of scarcity. These cards and comic books printed in that era of gluttony are worthless today. One only has to go visit E-bay and do a few searches to see this. Before this era of opportunistic lust for money at the kid's expense each years set of baseball cards and monthly issues of comic books were eagerly anticipated. Comic books in the late 70s and early 80s were not 3 or 4 dollars like they are today. A kid could go to the local convenience store and buy a candy bar, drink and comic book for about a buck.

                                                       The Unexpected # 202
I still have my old comic books. My favorite ones were the ghost and horror comics like DC Comics; The House of Mystery, The Unexpected, Ghosts, and the House of Secrets. I also enjoyed the old Charlton Comic westerns, and Gold & Key Comics issued The Twilight Zone, and Ripley's Believe it or not. Sometimes there would be advertisements for the next issue which would show the cover. I can remember eagerly awaiting the latest issue of a particular comic. One particular issue stands out. In the summer of 1980 I was 11 going on 12. My brother and I saw an advertisement promoting issue # 202 of The Unexpected. The cover showed a large white Easter Bunny menacing a group of unsuspecting children hunting for Easter eggs in the woods. The caption on the cover read "What Comes Hopping Down The Bunny Trail." Every time that we were able to make it to the store we would look and see if the issue had arrived. A killer Easter Bunny...how could you beat that! Some of these stories were pretty warped, but warped is what we enjoyed. One day my brother and I went to the store and there it was in all it's glory on the comic rack. Scooping it up we paid the clerk a couple of quarters and went outside to read it. We were disappointed. The story was mediocre and left a bad taste in our mouths. We had been duped. How could a cover be so good and the story itself suck? As 11 year olds we were getting a good lesson in marketing. What were we expecting? The killer bunny to jump from the pages of the comic and chase us down the road? 32 years later I still have the comic...it is a classic. I have read it as an adult and really it is not that bad...In fact, the older I get the better it gets...Why? I cannot say....perhaps it has something to do with a more remote time in my past when I was younger and not as cynical of the world around me?...Maybe it is the sea monkey add on the page following the story? I do not know...but every now and then I sit down, sometimes with my own son and read about a killer Easter Bunny that dunks kids in a vat of chocolate before biting their heads off.

The Ghost of Potatoe Man

I enjoy reading books. My favorite books are history and science books. I also enjoy reading philosophy and the classics. I read when I have the time, usually at night, in my library, sitting at my great-grandmothers table. So when my brother and his girlfriend invited me to come along with them to an antique show at a local flea market this morning I accepted the invitation. Perhaps I could find some old books for a cheap price. I should have known better when we arrived at the gate and they charged us $5 just to get in...when did this come about? Usually the money made by the host is taken from the dealers. We were assured that we were getting a deal because usually it was $10 to get in. How things have changed.

     When I was a kid my brother and I would ride our bikes to the local flea market in town and make a day of it. Usually we would have a couple of dollars in our pocket and would make it last. At the end of the day we would return home with our bellies filled with fried dough clutching a few treasures we were able to acquire...perhaps an old Classics Illustrated comic book...or a couple of 1950s era baseball cards, which, back in the late 1970s and early 1980s might just as well have been made in the stone age...at least it felt that way to a couple of kids. There was no admission to a flea market in those days...and water was free.

     We walked around the flea market for an hour or so. In the larger air conditioned buildings there were plenty of books...but no deals...everything was top dollar. There was nothing that I absolutely had to have. As I walked around glancing at the dealers wares I began to ask myself a few questions. What was I hoping to find?...and most importantly...Why was I even here? Most of the stuff in these buildings was junk. There were tables with old jewelry, tables with old farm tools well beyond their years of being useful, and sadly there was even a fellow selling old black and white photographs and tin-types of people who were long dead and now forgotten...no names or markings on the back of these photographs gave any indication of who these people might have been. Only their haunting, lifeless faces stared back at me. They reminded me of those old portraits that you see hanging in the Cracker Barrel. Who were these people? How did they come to be in the possession of this unshaven, beer-bellied, cunning rustic who was staring at me in the wild hope that I might purchase one of them? I moved along... outside, where the sun was baking anything that dare encounter it. As it was now about noon the temperature was about 100 degrees. I found myself attracted to a table of books...sitting idly by itself outside of one of the air conditioned buildings. There was nobody around these books and as I approached them I could see why. The sun had wreaked terrible havoc on them. Obviously these books had been discarded by their owner as being "almost unsaleable" Why were they out here being bleached by the sun? Were they were being tortured by their master for not turning out a profit? It was not their fault...or was it? I perused the dozen or so boxes and was somehow attracted to one of the titles Standing Firm by former Vice-President Dan Quayle. At one point in it's life the dust jacket of the book might have been blue...I say might have been...the poor thing appeared to be quite miserable. Not only had the dust jacket taken on another color, but the binding was cracked...however...for some reason the image on the cover betrayed the real emotion of the book. Quayle was smiling at me...but why? Had anyone ever read this book? This relic from a score of years ago. The absurdity of it now was...who would want to read it now? The sign on the table written on a postcard with a black sharpie said: Any Book $2. What a deal! Quayle was hopeful...he continued to smile at me...what was the potatoe man thinking? Is he going to buy me? Is he really going to shell out  2 bucks to find out why I am STANDING FIRM. I suddenly pictured the image of Quayle pulling itself off the cover of the book, picking up a blue magic marker, and attempting to propel himself back to the 1990s. "Do you see Craig...I am still standing firm!" he called to me desperately. I began to walk away from the this table of madness...this table of forgotten memories, dreams and ambitions. ..this table of books that because of their very existence were now engaging in the masochistic act of obscurity.  "You can STAND FIRM in your box Dan" I said as I walked away "but don't worry, you have that sun scorched copy of the 1988 world almanac to keep you company." As I headed for the exit having spent only the $5 entence fee I wondered if the likeness of the former Vice-President was now frowning.

Abraham Lincoln in Worcester Massachusetts

On the evening of September 12, 1848 a man wearing a long linen duster and described as, "a very tall and thin figure, with an intellectual face, showing a searching mind, and cool judgement" spoke to a gathering of citizens at the old City Hall in Worcester, Massachusetts. The man was a relatively unknown member of congress from the state of Illinois named Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln had just recently left Washington after the close of the first session of Congress. It was a Presidential election year, and Lincoln, who was a Whig, was on a campaign tour for the Whig candidate General Zachary Taylor. Taylor was a sort of compromise candidate for the Whigs. The current President James K. Polk was a firm Nationalist who took the concept of Manifest Destiny and formed it as the back bone of his Presidency. The Mexican War had been Polk's doing, and Whig's like Lincoln believed that the war was unjustified and had been provoked by the United States. Lincoln had just recently delivered a scathing rebuke against President Polk's policies in a speech on the House floor. The speech alienated a number of moderate Whigs, especially those in Illinois who felt that the first term Congressman had stepped out of bounds. Illinoisans in Lincoln's district had been caught up in the patriotic jingoism like the rest of the country and had supported the war effort. They felt that Lincoln had betrayed them by speaking against their will. Lincoln, however, was a man of stern convictions and, although voting to supply the troops in Mexico with whatever they needed, he still believed that the war was an unjust one promoted and provoked by Polk and his supporters.

                           Abraham Lincoln As He Would Have Appeared In Worcester In 1848.

    The people of Massachusetts who were mostly anti-slavery "free-soil" Whig supporters were having a hard time digesting the candidacy of Zachary Taylor. Taylor was a native of Louisiana who owned a large plantation which was worked by slaves. In June of 1848, only three months before Lincoln's arrival in Worcester, a convention was held by a new up and coming party called  the "Free Soil Party" which had formed from disgruntled elements of the Whig party who were anti-slavery along with some northern Democrats who were angered by their parties control by the southern members who were mostly pro-slavery. The convention in Worcester was heavily influenced and brought together by future  Massachusetts Senator, Charles Sumner. Lincoln was a pragmatist and although he was anti-slavery he stumped for Taylor under the firm belief that a vote for the Free Soil candidate, former President Martin Van Buren, was a vote for Lewis Cass the Democratic candidate who would almost certainly attempt to expand slavery into the western territories, something that Taylor would not do. In essence Lincoln was here to tell the people of Worcester to vote their consciences.

      On the evening of Lincoln's visit he was invited to a dinner party hosted by former Massachusetts Governor Levi Lincoln. Henry J. Gardner who would himself become a Governor of Massachusetts recalled Lincoln's visit to Worcester:

Gov. Levi Lincoln, the oldest living Ex-Governor of Massachusetts, resided in Worcester. He was a man of culture and wealth; lived in one of the finest houses in that town, and was a fine specimen of a gentleman of the old school. It was his custom to give a dinner party when any distinguished assemblage took place in Worcester, and to invite its prominent participants. He invited to dine, on this occasion, a company of gentlemen, among them myself, who was a delegate from Boston. The dining-room and table arrangements were superb, the dinner exquisite, the wines abundant, rare, and of the first quality.
"I well remember the jokes between Governor Lincoln and Abraham Lincoln as to their presumed relationship. At last the latter said: I hope we both belong, as the Scotch say, to the same clan; but I know one thing, and that is, that we are both good Whigs.'
"That evening there was held in Mechanics' Hall (an immense building) a mass-meeting of delegates and others, and Lincoln was announced to speak. No one there had ever heard him on the stump, and in fact knew anything about him. When he was announced, his tall, angular, bent form, and his manifest awkwardness and low tone of voice, promised nothing interesting. But he soon warmed to his work. His style and manner of speaking were novelties in the East. He repeated anecdotes, told stories admirable in humor and in point, interspersed with bursts of true eloquence, which constantly brought down the house. His sarcasm of Cass, Van Buren and the Democratic party was inimitable, and whenever he attempted to stop , the shouts of 'Go on! go on!' were deafening. He probably spoke over an hour, but so great was the enthusiasm time could not be measured. It was doubtless one of the best efforts of his life. He spoke a day or two afterward in Faneuil Hall, with William Seward, but I did not hear him.
"In 1861 business called me to Washington, and I paid my respects to the President at the White House. He came forward smiling and with extended hand, saying: 'you and I are no strangers; we dined together at Governor Lincoln's in 1848.' When one remembers the increased burden on the President's mind at this trying time, the anxieties of the war, the army, the currency, and the rehabilitating the civil officers of the country, it seemed astonishing to me to hear him continue: Sit down. Yes, I had been chosen to Congress then from the wild West, and with hayseed in my hair I went to Massachusetts, the most cultured State in the Union, to take a few lessons in deportment. That was a grand dinner-a superb dinner; by far the finest I ever saw in my life. And the great men who were there too! Why, I can tell you just how they were arranged at table.' He began at one end, and mentioned the names in order, and , I verily believe, without the omission of a single one."

                                    
                                Old City Hall Where Lincoln Gave His Speech

     There is some confusion dealing with Lincoln's participation in the events leading up to the Massachusetts State Whig convention held in Worcester on the following day. However,  according to a speech made by Justice Arthur P. Rugg in December 1909, some 61 years after Lincoln's visit, Lincoln addressed a large gathering of state delegates and other people at City Hall. The Boston Daily Advertiser in the September 14th, 1848 edition printed a summary of Lincoln's remarks. He was said to have spoken in a "clear and cool, and very eloquent manner, for an hour and a half, carrying the audience with him in his able arguments and brilliant illustrations-only to be interrupted by warm and frequent applause." He attempted to convince the audience in supporting Zachary Taylor for the Presidency, telling them that he stood for the same principles that the Whig's stood for regarding the "Bank, Tariff, Rivers, and Harbors." He also spoke of the "absurdity of an attempt to make a platform or creed for a national party, to all parts of which all must consent and agree." In this, Lincoln was referring to the new "Free Soil Party" which he found to be a party based on only one principle "slavery." Lincoln stated that both the Whigs and Free Soilers opposed the extension of Slavery into the territories but that the Free Soilers were like "the pair of pantaloons the Yankee peddler offered for sale, large enough for any man, small enough for any boy." He then wandered into the topic of the Mexican War which he said was supported by Martin Van Buren, (In other words, a vote for Van Buren was a vote for a war hawk.) At the conclusion of Lincoln's speech it was reported that the audience "gave three enthusiastic cheers for Illinois, and three more cheers for the eloquent Whig member (Lincoln) from that State."

      Lincoln attended the Whig State Convention the next morning and was said to have made some remarks, but the content of the speech in not known with any certainty. He left Worcester for other parts of the state stumping for Taylor before heading back to Illinois. Taylor, of course, ended up becoming the nations 12th President. He gathered up 45% of the vote in Massachusetts, while his rival Martin Van Buren tallied 28%, and the Democrat Lewis Cass managed only 26% of the vote. Lincoln had done his part...