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Is Belgium the Most Haunted Country on Earth?

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Belgian civilians being executed by Germans during WW1

From the Eighty Years' War of the 16th and 17th centuries to the two World Wars of the 20th century, Belgium's history is stained with blood and conflict. Hundreds of thousands of lives have been lost on Begium's infamous battlefields throughout the ages; nearly 18,000 Belgian soldiers and civilians were killed during the Rape of Belgium during the German occupation of 1914, while thousands more perished on the Flanders Fields during World War I. Just a few decades later, Nazis would slaughter nearly 25,000 Belgian Jews. Historians estimate that World War II wiped out 1.05% of this European nation's total population.

With so much tragedy and destruction in Belgium's past, it is no surprise that Belgium has long been considered by many paranormal researchers as the most haunted country in the world.

Even before the Second World War, Belgium was known for its many haunted locations. Elliott O'Donnell, the legendary Irish paranormal investigator and author, said in 1915 that "Belgium, for its size, can testify to having seen more homicides, more deeds of cruelty and rapine than any other country in Europe... these include the evil acts of the black era of the Inquisition and many others committed in such secrecy that, were it not for the grim visitants from the other world, they would never be suspected of having taken place."

O'Donnell was in Belgium during the First World War, and spent a great deal of time collecting stories from the men fighting in the trenches. During the Battle of Mons in August of 1914, O'Donnell interviewed British soldiers who had reported seeing the figure of an old woman in a bonnet and bright blue skirt who repeatedly got in their line of fire.

British infantry in the trenches of Flanders


The Bulletproof Farm Woman


"At first we thought she was a Belgian farm woman," said one of the soldiers. "But when she continued to move about under a constant hail of bullets-- some of which must have hit her-- we realized she was nothing human."

The soldiers comments were overheard by a sergeant, who said, "So you see her too, boys? It's my mother, who died twelve years ago, in her eighty-second year. I believe she's come for me."

As soon as the sergeant finished his sentence he was struck and killed by shrapnel. The woman in the blue skirt never appeared again.




Bloody Bruges

Bruges as it looks today


Bruges, the capital city of the province of West Flanders, is considered by many to be the most haunted city in the most haunted country on earth. Paranormal researchers have long noticed a strange trend here; every year, during the second week of September, paranormal and psychic phenomena seem to hit peak levels.

Some have suspected that this annual spookstorm has its roots in the era of the Spanish Inquisition. The Spanish occupied Bruges during this time and remnants of old tunnels and underground dungeons can still be seen beneath some of its buildings.

A Grand Inquisitor lived in a former hotel adjacent to the historic Van Schellen Cafe and guests have reported seeing the presence of a thin, swarthy man with a pointed beard and a long, waxed mustache. Several guests have attempted to photograph this strange man, only to discover that he vanishes into thin air before his image can be captured. Others who have stayed at the hotel in the early 20th century report waking up with strange bruises covering their bodies, and are occasionally kept awake by muffled, tortured screams.

Amazingly, in spite of being an important manufacturing and transportation hub, Bruges suffered virtually no damage during World War I. Perhaps the spirit world decided that Bruges had too many ghosts already.




The Rider of Dinant


The ruins of Dinant after WWI


On the River Meuse, approximately ninety kilometers southeast of Brussels, lies the charming and scenic city of Dinant. This area has been occupied since Neolithic times. By the year 870 the town already had a church and its own bishop, Saint Perpete. During the Middle Ages, Dinant was burned to the ground  during Liège Wars, and 800 villagers were drowned in the river. It is also the scene of the Battle of Dinant in 1914, which saw over 5,000 German and French soldiers killed and nearly 700 Belgian civilians massacred.

Of the man ghosts that are said to lurk here, the most famous is the Rider of Dinant. According to legend, the female rider appears in a green riding coat, guiding her white horse on the road from Louvain to Malines. "It is a spot long reputed haunted," stated Elliott O'Donnell in 1915, adding that the phantom has a habit of spooking horses and dogs in the vicinity.

He also related the story of two female artists who were drawn to a pond in the woods by their golden retriever, who had been behaving strangely. The dog directed their attention to a part of the pond, where they saw what looked like a large sack half submerged in the water. The sack was writhing wildly, as if someone was inside of it desperately attempting to get out.

Dinant as it appears today


One of the artists observed a white face scowling at them from behind the trees and this so frightened the women that they took off running. When they reached Dinant they related their experience to the landlady of their hotel.

"Ah, it is a good thing you did not stay longer, or you would have seen something worse," she said. "No one ever goes near that pond after dusk."

The landlady explained that an old house had once stood near the pond. Every one of its owners had died under mysterious circumstances.




The Clock That Strikes Thirteen

St. Rumbold's Cathedral, Mechelen


The city of Malines (also known as Mechelen) was bombed by the Germans on August 30, 1914. Since that time there have been countless reports of a peculiar ghost who is said to peer out of the upstairs window of a house next to the St. Rumbold's Cathedral. It is the ghost of a deformed child. Inhabitants of the house have claimed to have heard the voice of a mother calling out the name "Henry". Stranger still, this disembodied voice always seems to emanate from the chimney. And, every September, those near the house claim to be able to hear a clock striking thirteen.

With so much history and bloodshed packed into its 11,787 square miles, Belgium is a must-see destination for all paranormal enthusiasts. The wandering dead of Belgium have trampled the streets and lingered in belltowers for centuries and, chances are, they will continue to so so for centuries more.

The Order of the Occult Hand

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Reese Cleghorn, the alleged founder of the secret society


Not every secret society involves mystical chants, blood-chilling rituals, and nefarious plots to take control of the world's banking institutions, and members of secret societies aren't always shadowy figures dressed in hooded cloaks. Sometimes, they're trusted local newspaper reporters.

The Order of the Occult Hand is a "secret society" of American journalists which dates back to 1965, when a crime reporter from a Charlotte newspaper decided to spice up a mundane account of a domestic squabble by writing: It was as if an occult hand had reached down from above and moved the players like pawns upon some giant chessboard.

Joseph Flanders, the Charlotte News reporter who had penned the colorful passage, had managed to amuse his journalist colleagues so much that they decided to form a secret society around this phrase, and it wasn't long before Charlotte News staff reporters attempted to slip the words "it was as if an occult hand" into their own writing.

This, of course, was no easy feat if you happened to be writing about finance, sports, or a local city council meeting, but journalists gladly took up the challenge. The fact that newspaper editors soon became aware of this inside joke did little to dissuade the members of this whimsical secret society; on the contrary-- it became a point of pride for a journalist to sneak this bit of purple prose past the copy editors.

Purple prose-- writing that is excessively extravagant merely for the sake of being extravagant-- was the sort of thing that a reader might expect to find in an amateurish Victorian Era romance novel. But in a legitimate newspaper? Not so much. The fact that Flanders had been able to get his flowery phrase into print demanded some sort of recognition, and thus the Order was created. Its original members even created their own banner out of a bedsheet, upon which was depicted a bloody hand rising out of a purple cloud.

The Order of the Occult Hand eventually spread, and it was as if an occult hand (sorry, couldn't resist) had permitted the phrase to work its way into papers throughout the country. While some journalists who used this passage were hip to the inside joke, many were not. The phrase became generic fluff-- a crutch for lazy writers similar to the phrase "the vast majority" (seriously, why does every majority need to be described as vast by journalists when there are so many other words that could be used instead?).

"The object of the game wasn't just to use the phrase but to use it with some subtlety. The clumsy types eventually exposed us all," wrote Paul Greenberg, Pulitzer prize-winning editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, in 2006. Greenburg has been cited by several sources as the Order's progenitor.

Paul Greenberg


In 2004, because of the proliferation of print and online articles using the "occult hand" phrase, one in-the-know journalist decided to break his silence. James Janega, of the Chicago Tribune, wrote a piece entitled "A True Journalistic Conspiracy", which exposes the Order and tracks the migration of the purple passage from Charlotte to Bangkok.

There is, however, some debate over who actually originated the Order of the Occult Hand.

Paul Greenberg admitted to Janega in 2004 that he had used the phrase on at least six different occasions throughout his journalistic career. "It's a phrase that has that sense of journalese about it, sort of a campy phrase," Greenberg stated.

According to Greenberg, it had been an editorial writer at the Charlotte Observer named Reese Cleghorn who founded the secret society. Cleghorn, who was also a longtime journalism professor at the University of Maryland, was credited as the Order's founder by several other journalists, including Linton Weeks of the Washington Post.

Cleghorn, however, denied this claim. In Janega's 2004 Chicago Tribune article Cleghorn insisted that he'd never heard of the Order of the Occult Hand until the early 1970s, when he began working for the Charlotte Observer.

A few years after the existence of the secret society was made public, Greenberg decided that it was time for the Order to come up with a new secret phrase. In 2006 he stated that he called an after-hours meeting at the annual editorial writers' convention to select the replacement to the "occult hand".

"There were a number of nominations, and it wasn't easy picking a winner," wrote Greenberg. "Which did we pick? I'll never tell."

Coming Attractions...

The Doppelganger of Hugh Astley

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St. Mary's Church in East Rudham


Is it possible to encounter the ghost of a person still living? Is is possible to be in more than one place at the same time? These are just some of the questions that come to mind when examining the strange case of the Rev. Dr. Hugh Astley, the village vicar of East Rudham in England's Norfolk County during the early part of the 20th century.

The bizarre tale of Hugh Astley begins during the Christmas season of 1908. Astley decided to spend the holidays with his wife in Algeria, and left his vicarage in the hands of Rev. Robert Brock, whom he first met during a trip to London on December 9, 1908. Though they conversed for less than an hour, the two preachers immediately hit it off and Dr. Astley invited Rev. Brock to serve as his substitute over the holiday season.

On December 26, Rev. Brock received a letter from an English military chaplain stationed in Algiers by the name of Rev. Herbert Muriel. In his letter, the chaplain informed the substitute vicar that Dr. Astley and his wife were involved in a terrible train accident on December 16. Both had sustained serious injuries.

Later that same evening, as Brock was seated in the dining room of the vicarage the housekeeper, Mrs. Hartley, became startled and told him that Dr. Astley was waiting for him in the study.

"Looking through the glass window on the lawn I myself distinctly saw the figure of Dr. Astley, in clerical attire, standing against the wall which adjoins the dining room," stated Brock to a London newspaper in January of 1909. "I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I was not dreaming. The figure was not looking at me, but seemed to be plunged in thought.

"Mrs. Hartley had a candle in her hand and I told her to take it away. I still saw the figure most clearly. A housemaid who joined us could also see the figure."

Brock stated that the apparition of Dr. Astley appeared at around 4:45 in the afternoon and was visible for about ten minutes.

On December 29, Mrs. Hartley once again saw the vicar's apparition, this time in the garden.

According to Brock, the housekeeper went into the study and came out screaming, "Come quickly! Here it is again!" Brock raced into the study and looked out the window and could plainly see the apparition of Dr. Astley. Brock immediately sent a telegram to Algiers inquiring about the condition of the vicar and his wife, but was surprised to learn that they were both recovering well from their injuries.

However, Brock learned that the vicar, who had sustained a concussion in the accident, had twice lost consciousness for a brief period of time-- once on December 26, and once again on December 29. Brock believed that this might have had something to do with the timing of the apparitions.

"My own impression... was that Dr. Astley was dead," stated Rev. Brock. Now it would really appear that when we saw his figure outside the study window he was in a state of unconsciousness or delirium and in some way was able to project himself in living form to his home in England."

The ability to appear in two places at one time-- sometimes called "bilocation"-- has been documented for centuries and is often said to occur during times of extreme duress. One of the best known American cases of this phenomenon took place in Peabody, Massachusetts in 1915 when a young schoolgirl named Mary Renfrew narrowly escaped death during the St. John's Parochial School fire. While Mary was being pulled from the burning building in a state of unconsciousness by a fireman, numerous witnesses claim to have seen her a few blocks away at the exact same time.


Sources:
Hartford Republican, Jan. 22, 1909.

Notorious Haunted Island for Sale

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One of America's most notorious haunted islands is for sale. Getter's Island, which lies in the Delaware River near Easton, Pennsylvania, is up for grabs for $150,000. The price includes more than just six acres of heavily-wooded land, however; it also includes a gruesome backstory and possibly even a ghost or two.

The legend of Getter's Island dates back to 1833, when Charles Getter was sentenced to death for the murder of his wife, Rebecca Lawall. As one of the prosecutors stated during Getter's trial, the marriage was "a union commenced in crime, consummated in tears, and determined in blood."

According to newspaper reports from the era, Charles was forced to marry Rebecca after she filed a lawsuit claiming that he had impregnated her. The local magistrate, a name by the name of Weygandt, essentially gave Charles an ultimatum: Marry Rebecca Lawall or go to jail. He agreed to marry her, although he did so under protest.

As one can imagine, this was certainly not the foundation of a long and happy marriage. At the time of the forced union, Charles was already engaged to another woman, a seamstress from Easton named Mary Hummer, with whom he was deeply in love. In fact, the day after Charles married Rebecca, he paid a visit to an attorney and asked if it was possibly to get a divorce. After he had been informed that a divorce was not possible, he vowed that he would never live under the same roof with his new bride.

Just ten days later, the lifeless body of Rebecca Lawall was discovered not far from her home, alongside the public road. Based upon the handprints on her neck, it was evident that she had been choked to death. Suspicion immediately fell upon Getter, who claimed that he was not in Easton at the time of the murder. However, there was a witness who claimed to have seen Getter near the scene of the crime, and it was the testimony of this witness that eventually led to the jury finding Getter guilty of murder in the first degree.

On October 4, 1833, Getter was hanged on the highest part of the island while nearly 20,000 curiosity seekers watched from the riverbank. The hanging didn't exactly go smoothly-- the rope snapped during the first attempt to hang Getter. Twenty minutes later, after the rope had been replaced, Getter was hanged successfully. And it wasn't long until ghost stories began to circulate about Getter's Island.

But the legend of Getter's Island took a bizarre turn in September of 1915 with the mysterious death of a boater named Floyd Bossard, who disappeared when his canoe capsized in the rapids alongside the haunted island. While his companions escaped without injury, Bossard was swept away by the current. According to the Harrisburg Telegraph, when Bossard's body was discovered several days later, about eight miles south of the island, there was a rope found around the victim's neck. Stranger still, Bossard's companions swore that there was no no rope in the canoe.

Yet the death of Floyd Bossard was not the first tragedy to take place at Getter's Island after the hanging of Charles Getter.

On March 6, 1860, the steamboat Alfred Thomas exploded at Getter's Island. For some unknown reason, just as the boat was approaching the island, the steam ran low and the crew was forced stop. When the gauge indicated the proper amount of pressure, the boat pulled away from the island and the boiler immediately exploded. Of the 34 passengers and crew, twelve were killed and another twelve were severely injured.

If you are interested in purchasing this haunted island, you can view the owner's listing on Trulia.

Driven out of home by ghosts

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The above article is from the Los Angeles Herald, April 27, 1905.

Unsolved Mystery: The Skeletons of Grape Island

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Last week's post about the sale of the notoriously haunted Getter's Island in the Delaware River brought to mind another spectacularly spooky island, this one situated in the Kankakee River, about ten miles south of Joliet, Illinois.

Grape Island, at first glance, is hardly worthy of notice. It's a tiny speck of land, overshadowed by its much larger neighbor, Bardwell Island, and easily overlooked by most boaters and fishermen. However, this tiny island has a chilling history that dates back to the days before the Civil War.

In those days, the island was occupied by an early settler named Steele, who was a hunter and trapper and was generally known throughout the region as something of a mean-spirited recluse.

In 1861 Steele was visited by a fellow named Burrington, who had departed from Momence, Illinois, with $10,000 to purchase cattle for the U.S. army. Steele offered Burrington lodging for the night at his tiny house on Grape Island. He was never seen again, and in the morning his horse was found roaming the nearby swamps.

Although Steele was the prime suspect, there wasn't enough evidence to charge him with any crime and the matter of Burrington's disappearance was forgotten. But the following year, it was reported that Burrington's wife and daughter had gone missing. The local settlers decided to take the law into their own hands, and one night they dragged Steele out of his house on Grape Island kicking and screaming, with the intention of hanging him.

The hermit was thrown into a makeshift jail to await his fate, but somehow managed to escape from his confinement and flee from the vicinity, never to return. The house on Grape Island, meanwhile, fell to ruin. Reportedly haunted, the house was avoided by most travelers and outdoorsmen, though it became a popular destination for morbidly curious adventure seekers.

Decades later, in the summer of 1905, it was determined by local authorities that the delapidated house was a threat to public safety, and Steele's former home was torn down.  Workers made a ghastly discovery, however; inside a hidden compartment behind the cellar wall, five human skeletons were found.

It was believed that three of the skeletons belonged to Burrington, his wife and his daughter. But who were the other two victims had Steele murdered? Unfortunately, this a mystery that will probably never be solved.




The ghost who plowed a field

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This story comes from the Philadelphia Times, Sept. 4, 1892.

There's something spooky about white cats

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A few weeks ago, while 'talking shop' with a fellow paranormal enthusiast, I casually mentioned that white cats have played a strange premonitory role in my life.

The first unusual encounter I had with a white cat occurred when I was in junior high. In order to get in shape for the upcoming football season, I had gotten into the habit of going out for a run every night, usually after midnight. One hot August night, as my footsteps echoed through the rain-dampened alleys and backstreets, just as I rounded the corner of my block and sprinted toward home a large white cat darted out from behind a trash can and dashed across the alley into an abandoned garage, nearly entangling itself with my feet. Although the unexpected incident scared the crap out of me at the time, I gave the matter little thought until the following morning, when my parents informed me that my ailing grandmother had passed away the previous evening in a local nursing home.

Of course, the death of my maternal grandmother and the appearance of the white cat didn't appear to have any connection at the time, other than the fact that it was an unsual occurrence. However, the same exact thing happened again two years later-- another white cat crossed my path during a late night jog in November, at approximately the same time my paternal grandfather died in a local hospital after a bout with a lengthy illness. It was not the same cat (at least I don't think it was), and this strange encounter took place on a different street in a different part of town. But the end result was the same.

Amazingly, this would not be the last time that the appearance of a white cat presaged the death of a family member.

Just a few years ago-- almost two decades after my first encounter-- I had driven up from Harrisburg to visit my paternal grandmother, who was my last surviving grandparent. Halfway home from the hour-long trip, while driving on a two-lane highway through a tiny coal mining town, a had to jam on the brakes to avoid hitting a white cat that had dashed in front of my vehicle. This time it was broad daylight, and I was able to get a good look at the feline jaywalker. It had long fur and odd, piercing eyes. It stopped in the middle of the roadway and glared at me before sprinting away, and I noticed that one of the animal's eyes was a striking, radiant green and the other was a calm, serene blue. I still have a distinct mental image of the cat, and based upon my recollections and research, I would venture a guess that the cat was a Turkish Angora.

Although my grandmother did not pass away on that particular day, she fell ill and was taken to the hospital a few days later, where she eventually passed away from complications from pneumonia. Her death occurred four or five days after I had seen the cat, but it was close enough to suggest that there might be some supernatural element at play.

When I told this story to my friend, he said that he seemed to recall hearing about similar experiences with white cats, and he sent me a link to a story about a bizarre incident that took place in Trenton, New Jersey, in 1921, which I have included below:





I'd be curious to find out of anyone else has had spooky, supernatural encounters involving white cats. If you have, contact us and let us know!

Half-Hanged Maggie and other survivors of the gallows

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Although execution by hanging fell out of favor in the United States by the end of the 19th century, the last execution by hanging in this country took place in Delaware in 1996. But, throughout history, hanging has been the most practiced form of capital punishment around the world; and while countless convicts-- guilty and innocent alike-- have met their demise at the end of a rope, history records several interesting examples of individuals who managed to  survive this barbaric death penalty.

One of the earliest recorded cases took place in Cambridgeshire, England, in 1264 when a woman by the name of Inetta de Balsham was sentenced to death for colluding with robbers. After she was hanged, her body remained on the gibbet for three days. Yet historical records indicate that de Balsham not only survived the ordeal, but was actually pardoned by King Henry III.

Botched hangings, it seems, were commonplace in England around this time; in 1313, Matthew Enderby was hanged until he was pronounced dead, only to regain consciousness as the coffin containing his body was being lowered into the ground. A similar situation occurred in 1363, after Walter Wynkeburn was hanged at Leicester. After his body had been cut down it was transported by wagon to the Holy Sepulchre Cemetery. Wykeburn regained his senses during the trip, and later credited his revival to the rumbling and jostling of the wagon as it travelled over rough cobblestones.

One particularly strange case comes from the 17th century, when an unnamed Swiss criminal was sentenced to death on the authority of Dr. Obadiah Walker, master of University College at Oxford. According to historical records, this particular Swiss criminal had to be hanged 13 times before his life was finally extinguished. Upon examination of the body, it was discovered that some mysterious disease had caused his windpipe to become as hard as stone.

When it comes to surviving the gallows, one of the best-known cases is that of Anne Green, who was sentenced to death for infanticide. Her hanging was so remarkable that it has been cited by British legal and medical experts alike for centuries. Although there was credible evidence to exonerate her of the charges, Green was hanged in Marston, Oxfordshire, on December 14, 1650. After her body was cut down, it was trampled in order to ensure that life had been extinguished. The body was placed into a coffin and consigned to physicians for dissection. When the coffin was opened, Green appeared to be breathing, and a faint rattling could be hear emanating from her crushed throat. The doctors decided to deliver brutal blows to the chest in an effort to bring her back from the brink of death. The rough treatment worked; within 14 hours Green was conscious and able to talk.

One of the doctors present noted that the thirty minutes of hanging had not resulted in any damage to the brain, and that she had regained consciousness all at once. He wrote:

"She came to herself as if she had awakened out of a sleep, not recovering the use of her speech by slow degrees but in a manner altogether, beginning to speak where she left off on the gallows."
 
But Anne Green wasn't out of the woods yet: the court declared that she had to be hanged all over again. Fortunately, the doctors who had revived her rallied to her defense, and were able to convince the city's mayor to procure a pardon. She eventually moved to Steeple Barton, where she got married, raised a family, and died (of natural causes) in 1659.

Another remarkable story of hanging comes from around the same time, and involved a highwayman named Gordon. Before he was hanged, he hired a surgeon to affix a small tube through an opening cut in his windpipe. Unfortunately for the bandit, the devious plot failed. According to some sources, Gordon was so heavy that his neck was snapped as soon as the trap was sprung. But Gordon's ingenuity planted a spark in the minds of other condemned criminals; numerous convicts with strange apparatus and elaborate contrivances concealed under their clothing began to show up at the gallows in an attempt to cheat the hangman. Very few were successful.

In 1724, the hanging of Margaret Dickson at Edinburgh for the crime of infanticide aroused great interest throughout Europe. She was hanged, cut down, and placed into a coffin. Like the criminal Walter Wynkeburne six decades earlier, the rough cobblestones brought her back to consciousness as the cart carrying her coffin rumbled toward the Musselburgh graveyard. She was removed from the coffin about one-third of the way to the graveyard and prayed over by a minister, before being released. She lived for many years afterwards, had a large family, and was locally famous for selling salt on the streets of Edinburgh, having earned the nickname "Half-Hanged Maggie" on account of her ordeal. The nickname not only stuck-- it followed her to the grave, and was etched into her headstone.

Surgeons' Hall, the headquarters of the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, is Scotland's pre-eminent medical museum. The museum dates back to 1699, though the RCSE can trace its roots back to 1505, when it was established as a surgeon's craft guild by King James IV. Surgeons' Hall has seen more than a few gallows victims return to life on the dissecting table.

Murderer William Duell was hanged in Acton in 1740. He was cut down after twenty minutes and his body transported to Surgeons' Hall for dissection. He began to groan upon the table just as the dissection was about to begin. He was bled by surgeons and, by evening, was able to move about on his own power. However, the ordeal had rendered his mind a complete blank. He was conveyed back to prison, but since he had no recollection of his former life and crimes, it was decided that it wouldn't be right to hang him again.

Ewen MacDonald was hanged for murder in 1752 and his body taken to Surgeons' Hall. The operating surgeon left the dissection room for a minute, and when he returned he was surprised to find MacDonald awake and sitting up. Believing that it was his duty to complete the task of the executioner, he took a mallet and beat MacDonald over the head until life was extinguished.

Metaphysical Murder: The Strange Theory of the Duplicate Crime

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Inspector Byrnes


One of the most accomplished detectives in history, Inspector Thomas F. Byrnes, developed an unusual theory which he called the Law of Duplicate Crimes. He believed that every unusual crime in which passion or intelligence played a role was psychically mirrored in another part of the world. While the two crimes may occur days apart, the crimes were virtual duplicates of each other, right down to remarkable coincidences and minor details.
 
Since Byrnes' pet theory had a ring of the supernatural to it, his Law of Duplicate Crimes is little remembered today, But in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, with the rise of spiritualism and theosophy, many leading detectives of the era adopted the famed inspector's theory, and even achieved remarkable results by putting it to use. Other contemporary supporters of Byrnes' theory included the likes of French statistician Jacques Bertillon and Hungarian social critic and author Max Nordau.

While modern criminologists may refer to perpetrators of duplicate crimes as copycats, the Law of Duplicate Crime stipulates that the actions of initial perpetrator are entirely unknown to the second. Or, as the renowned detective (and colleague of Inspector Byrnes) James E. Wilkinson wrote in 1910:

"The Duplicate Crime Law operates without the aid of printed suggestion. The parallel offenses follow each other before any of the principals could know of the acts of his criminal double."

In many cases, these crimes are the result of an "irresistible impulse" which even the perpetrators are unable to explain. The famous murder cases of Dr. Crippen and Porter Charlton were often cited by detectives as an example of Byrnes' theory. Both men had married women that bore striking resemblances to each other, who were physically larger than their spouses, who had similar tastes and dominant personalities. Both killers had come from prominent families, had gone abroad to live and had to be extradited. Charlton killed his wife, hid her body in a trunk and tossed into Lake Como in Italy. Crippen dissected his wife, burned the bones and buried the flesh in his cellar. Although the deeds were different, the victims possessed remarkable similarities. Apparently, something about these women caused Dr. Crippen and Porter Charlton to snap in early 1910.

Dr. Crippen


James Wilkinson argued that Charlton's mind was a weaker duplicate of Crippen's, and a psychic message of criminal suggestion sent out by Crippen vibrated through the ether of the universe, to be picked up by Charlton like a radio signal. Yet Wilkinson was careful to make the distinction that this was not an act of telepathy, as telepathy implies a conscious effort to implant a thought into the mind of another. The Law of Duplicate Crime, stated Wilkinson, is independent of any conscious effort.

"Somewhere in the world there is a mind keyed to the same pitch as that of the first criminal," declared Wilkinson. Just as the Germans believe in the doppelganger-- a person's physical double-- Byrnes, Wilkinson, Bertillon and others believed that every criminal mind has a double, or an exact duplicate mind that is responsive to the same vibrations.

Porter Charlton


Another example of this phenomenon occurred in December of 1909. A girl from Louisville named Alma Keller disappeared and no trace of her was found until June of the following year. Her body was discovered in the cellar of a school. She had been clubbed to death and raped. A janitor, Joseph Wendling, was arrested for the crime. At around the same time, an eerily similar murder occurred hundreds of miles away in New York.

The cases of Hyde and Pantchenko occurred almost simultaneously, in two different counties-- one in America, the other in Russia. In both cases, physicians murdered men of wealth for financial gain. Hyde killed his victim, Colonel Swope, by intentionally exposing him to typhoid. Patchenko killed his victim, Baron Buturlin, with cholera bacillus.

Another striking instance of duplicate crimes were the Runyon and D'Apree embezzlements. Chester B. Runyon, a married bank teller, walked out of Windsor Trust Company one Saturday afternoon with nearly $100,000 packed inside his briefcase. He eluded authorities by hiding out in an apartment occupied by a girlfriend named Laura Carter. She was the one who turned him in, in order to collect a reward. On the very same afternoon in Marseilles, a married bank teller named Lucien D'Apree walked out of Villon Freres with two hundred thousand francs in his briefcase. He hid from the police at the apartment of his girlfriend, Mathilde Laurons. After Mathilde had spent all of her lover's money, she turned him over to the police.

These cases lend considerable weight to Inspector Byrnes' private belief that cleverly planned crimes are often committed in duplicate, with no material connection between the two perpetrators other than a metaphysical mode of communication which still defies scientific explanation.

The deadliest bridge in Indiana?

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In 1891, a railroad bridge over Stucker's Creek in Scott County, Indiana, had to be replaced because it was so low that it anyone standing on a train risked losing their head. The above newspaper article, from September of 1891, indicates that the bridge developed a reputation for being haunted after claiming the lives of 39 railroad employees.

George Marlow: America's Greatest Bodysnatcher

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While pillaging graves may seem like a revolting idea, it was a lucrative business in the United States during the 19th century. As the medical profession began to flourish, schools required a steady supply of cadavers for dissection and anatomical study. Enter the "Resurrection Men"- professional body snatchers who provided medical schools with stolen corpses. While hundreds of resurrection men operated throughout America in the late 1800s, few were as prolific as George Marlow.

In January of 1893, an inventive journalist concocted a creative scheme in order to get an interview with Marlow by pretending to be an agent of a medical college. Never one to turn away an opportunity to do business, Marlowe spilled his secrets to the undercover reporter. He acknowledged that his best customers were the medical departments of Georgetown University, Howard University, Columbian University (which later merged with George Washington University in 1904) and the National University Medical College.

Marlow admitted that, on that very morning, he had supplied two dead women to Georgetown, one dead man to Columbus and one dead woman to Howard.

He also described his preferred method of delivery; at around 4 o'clock in the morning, he would drive his canvas-covered sleigh into the alley behind the university, where he would be met by a night watchman. After parking close to the rear entrance, he would quickly drag a corpse from the back of his sleigh and toss it into the doorway of the school before disappearing into the darkness. The whole operation took less than two minutes.



A Family Affair


By 1894 it was evident that the bodysnatching operation was the work of not one or two men, but an organized gang of graverobbers, believed by authorities to consist of members of the Marlowe and Jones families, with George Marlowe as the ringleader.

In the spring of 1894, Officer O'Dea of the Ninth Precinct arrested George Marlow, Thomas Jones and John Newman after a failed bodysnatching attempt at Oxon Hill. As the two men were attempting to steal the corpse of an elderly woman, they were caught in the act by the sexton of the cemetery. A pistol fight then took place. Shots were fired, but no one was injured. At the ensuing trial in May, Thomas Jones  was eager to place the blame on Marlow, stating that a man named Newman paid him $2 and a quart of whiskey to steal the body, and that it was Marlow who had done the shooting. Jones received a five year sentence; George Marlow and John Newman were sentenced to six years.



Caught at Last


George Marlow's undoing came as a result of a few stray oak leaves. At around 7 o'clock on the morning of March 3, 1896, a wooden box was examined by workers at the railroad depot of the Adams Express Company at the corner of 6th Street and Virginia Ave. SW. Inside the box, packed with oak leaves, were the bodies of two black youths.

The box had been brought to the office an hour earlier by two men in a wagon. The men were described as "two colored men, one very dark and heavy-set, and the other a bright mulatto". The darker man remained in the wagon while the other carried the box into the receiving room. The box was marked: "To L.B. Downing, Hanover, N.H."

"I want to send these goods to New Hampshire," said the mulatto to Mr. Guilford, the shipping clerk. When Guilford asked the name of the shipper, the man gave the name of Crosby and an address located at the corner of Fourteenth and Corcoran Streets. Guilford handed the man a receipt, who then hurried into the waiting wagon and sped away.

The box was loaded onto a platform by an employee, James Stepper, who observed some oak leaves protruding from the box. Stepper remembered reading about an earlier case in which cadavers stolen from Payne's Cemetery had been packed in oak leaves. When he opened the box he saw a human foot and reported the matter to his boss. A telephone message was sent to Lieutenant Vernon at the No. 4 police station and Sergeant John C. Daley and Officer Muller were dispatched to the scene. The box was taken to the morgue at the rear of the Sixth precinct stationhouse.

After interviewing workers at the express station, Vernon and Muller believed that the mulatto who brought the box into the office was either John Jones or George Marlowe. The dark black man who remained in the wagon was believed to be a man named Bowie, who also had a record as a bodysnatcher. Mr. Guilford of the express company stated that the same men had come in about three weeks earlier and had a similar box shipped to the Northwest. Police discovered that the two black corpses had not been taken from any cemetery within city limits, and one of the corpses was later identified as George Quails, who had been buried several days earlier at Woodlawn Cemetery.

Dressed in plain clothes, Sgt. Daley and Officer Muller tracked down and arrested George Marlow and his son Jeremiah at their home in Ivy City, along with John and Sylvester Jones. The Marlows and their wagon was positively identified by Guilford and Stepper. In April of 1896, John Jones and George Marlow were convicted and sentenced to two years in Albany Penitentiary. John H. Marlow- another one of George's sons- managed to escape the raid but was apprehended three years later.



The End of an Era


The breaking up the Marlow gang ushered in the end of an era for resurrection men, and the number of grave robberies throughout the country dropped precipitously by the dawning of the 20th century.
S.J. Hare, superintendent of the Forest Hill Cemetery-- one of the Marlow gang's favorite targets-- reported in the spring of 1900 that Forest Hill had not experienced a case of bodysnatching in four years. Hare had become something of an expert on the methods used by the resurrection men and how to thwart their attempts, which he described thusly:

"In digging a grave, every clod of the dirt is placed on a canvas placed beside the grave. Immediately after the interment the grave is filled up and sodded over. The earth that is in the canvas is taken away and when all is finished the grave looks like any other. You see, the canvas prevents any earth being left in the grass to mark the spot.

"During the grave robbing season-- for, strange as it may seem, grave robbing has a season which extends from August to the close of the medical schools in June-- we keep a night watchman. His first duty is to exchange all the headboards on the new graves. The ghouls are generally after some particular corpse. They don't go it blind, and this practice is about the best that can be devised to mix them up.

"The watchman carries a repeating shotgun, and his orders are to turn loose without warning on anyone who gives indication of being a grave robber... A sharp watch is kept on new graves for about two weeks. After that time the occupants are hardly available for the dissecting table."

Fear that the dearly departed might be dug up by a resurrectionist was common among grieving family members of the era. Many of them even insisted upon having cemetery workers dig into the graves of their loved ones at regular intervals to make sure that the remains of the deceased were still in the grave.

Superintendent Hare devised a rather clever way of assuaging these fears, while preventing the unnecessary disinterment of the dead. Whenever a burial was made, he would order his workers to embed a random object just a few inches below the soil. The exact location and a description of these objects were jotted down into a notebook. Whenever a family member desired to see whether or not the grave of a loved one had been disturbed, all the workers had to do was to dig up one or two shovelfuls of dirt. "A few shovelfuls of earth always reveals the article just as the book says it should be, and the lot owner goes away satisfied," said Hare.

Live fast, die young, and leave an exploding corpse

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History records numerous instances of exploding corpses, usually caused by a buildup of combustible gases that are the natural byproduct of human decomposition, and since we found these articles to be quite fascinating, we thought we'd share them with our readers.


Daily Democrat (Huntington, IN), July 21, 1890
Palladium-Item (Richmond, IN), Nov. 4, 1908

Albuquerque Journal, June 1, 1909
The Intelligencer (Anderson, SC), Jan. 7, 1886

The cursed elk's head

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The above story, published in 1938, describes an elk's head that was believed to be responsible for a series of fires in Minnesota. Weird.



The Incredible Tale of the Strahl Family Curse

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Edith Strahl Netherton


In February of 1928 the wife of Dr. Samuel Oliver Netherton, a prominent physician from Kansas, was found dead in the basement of their home on a farm outside of Olathe. Death was instantaneous; she had been shot in the back of the skull at point blank range.

Suspicion, naturally, fell upon the dead woman's husband. This sent shock waves throughout the community, however, as Dr. Netherton was the last person anyone would ever suspect of carrying out such a foul deed. A graduate of prestigious Johns Hopkins University, Dr. Netherton was able to retire at an early age after accumulating substantial wealth, and had devoted his leisure time to world travel.

Mrs. Edith Netherton, who was born into the equally prosperous Stahl family, possessed property worth $100,000. The Nethertons, however, lived frugally, and few people around Olathe were aware of the couples' wealth. When it came to money, the Nethertons only splurged when it came to Dorothy-- their beloved nine-year-old daughter.


S.O Netherton and daughter Dorothy in 1928


Although the murder weapon was never found and Dr. Netherton insisted he had been out of town the day of the murder, he was convicted on circumstantial evidence and sentenced to life in prison. As to the identity of Edith's killer, Dr. Netherton believed that someone sinister-- from this world or the spirit world-- had been stalking his wife's family for decades, inexplicably killing members of the Stahl family one member at a time.

It was a strange explanation, especially from a refined gentleman trained in one of the world's leading medical schools, but Dr. Netherton insisted that a mysterious curse was to blame. He appealed his conviction on those very grounds, albeit unsuccessfully, insisting that the Strahl family murders had originated long before he ever met his wife.

The killings began in Deadwood, South Dakota, in 1882 when a frontier trapper named Dode Strahl was shot to death. He was a nephew of Edith Netherton's mother. His killer was never apprehended.
Next came the murder of Dode's brother, Roll Strahl, just a few years later. He was found shot to death in the back of a wagon on a farm near Exira, Iowa. The very same year, Colbert Strahl-- the father of Dode and Roll-- was shot to death on his horse while riding near Exira. No arrests were ever made.

Then, in 1916, Arthur Strahl was shot to death in Chicago. Arthur was a first cousin of Dr. Netherton's wife. Four years later, Paxton Muir was found murdered in a Los Angeles hotel. Paxton was a second cousin of Edith Netherton. His killer was never caught.

From 1882 to 1928, six members of the Strahl family were murdered in five different states. And the only one arrested was a kindly, well-liked retired physician and doting father and husband. The other murders remained unsolved.

Dr. Netherton, with all the time in the world to kill inside a lonely prison cell in Kansas, began to wonder... Had a lone serial killer been stalking the Strahl family for thirty-five years, hellbent on revenge for some long forgotten transgression? Was it mere coincidence, as uncanny as it may seem? Was there a strange cult or a secret society determined to wipe out the Strahl clan? Or was it a divine curse of some sorts, a punishment doled out by an angry deity for the crimes of an ancient forefather?
 He began to fear for the safety of his young daughter, Dorothy. Would she be next?

Then, in 1936, there came a glimmer of hope for Dr. Netherton. A convicted robber serving time at a state prison in Missouri made an outrageous claim-- that he had been the one who murdered Edith nearly a decade earlier. And he still had the murder weapon as proof.

Charles Bunch, serving a 25-year sentence for armed robbery, confessed to killing Mrs. Netherton to Warden J.M. Sanders in Jefferson City. The warden, however, did not believe the story. "Bunch's confession makes things confusing," stated the warden. "He gives the wrong date for the crime, and says Mrs. Netherton fell near a furnace. The furnace was in a far part of the basement from where she fell."

The murder house, as it appeared in 1950


Perhaps Bunch just got his facts mixed up. After all, almost a decade had elapsed since the murder in Olathe, Kansas. And Dr. Netherton pointed out that there was a galvanized tank near the spot where she died, and it was possible that Bunch had mistaken it for a furnace.

Although they were skeptical, Kansas authorities agreed to re-examine the case, but eventually ruled that Bunch was not the killer. Dr. Netherton's life sentence would not be overturned, and the parole board denied clemency appeals filed on his behalf in nine consecutive years. It looked as if Netherton would die in prison.

Finally, in June of 1949, Stanley Oliver Netherton-- now 81 years of age-- was released from prison after another inmate, Vincent Williamson, confessed to the crime.



Williamson provided accurate details about the 1928 slaying that were so minor and unknown to the public that authorities had no choice but to release the now-elderly former surgeon, who had attained a small measure of fame as the oldest prisoner in the state of Kansas. Williamson, who was a tramp at the time of the murder, claimed that he shot Edith after she refused to give him food.

Netherton leaving prison in 1949


Netherton passed away in October of 1958 at the age of 91. His final request was to be buried alongside his wife. As for their daughter, Dorothy, no is quite sure whether or not she was spared from the Strahl family curse. In 1931 she was adopted by family friends. She changed her name, married, moved away, and was never seen or heard from again.



Sources:

Bradford Evening Star, Jan. 15, 1929.
Sedalia Democrat, Aug. 17, 1936.
Hutchinson News, Aug. 17, 1936.
Emporia Gazette, July 21, 1944.
Miami Daily News-Record, June 13, 1949.
Syracuse Post-Standard, July 16, 1950.
Sedalia Democrat, Oct. 6, 1958.



Military achieves breakthrough in telepathic warfare

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“As of today, signals from the brain can be used to command and control … not just one aircraft, but three simultaneous types of aircraft.” These were the portentous words said by Justin Sanchez, director of DARPA’s biological technology office, at a recent event in Maryland.

Last week, tech editor Patrick Tucker of the Defense One website, reported that the U.S. military's Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) has achieved a breakthrough in telepathic warfare-- or, at least, a breakthrough in the frightening field of brain-computer interfaces, otherwise known as BCIs.

The current breakthrough stems from 2015 research project, in which a paralyzed woman was able to steer a virtual F-35 fighter jet with a surgically-implantable microchip. Earlier this month, DARPA announced that they had improved the technology to allow a user to steer multiple aircraft at once, including drones.

According to Sanchez, the human guinea pig in this experiment was a paralyzed man named Nathan, who-- thanks to BCI-- was able to both send and receive signals from the simulated aircraft.
Defense One reported that the military has been experimenting with brain-computer interfaces since 2007, with DARPA awarding a $4 million grant for the development of a "synthetic telepathy" interface that does not require surgical implants.

In other words, it won't be long until the U.S. military has the ability to destroy targets with nothing more than a fleeting thought. And if that's not scary as hell, we're not sure what is.

Jettatore: The Evil Eye of Casoli Paracrotti

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At the turn of the last century, one of the roughest neighborhoods of New York was Five Points-- a bubbling cauldron of immigrant gangs, political corruption, overcrowded slums, filth and disease. One particularly rowdy area within Five Points was Mulberry Bend (or, as it was referred to be locals, "The Bend"). The Bend was a maze of tenement-lined streets and treacherous alleys with colorful names such as Bandit's Roost and Ragpicker's Row. In 1911, Mulberry Bend was demolished; Columbus Park now occupies the plot of real estate that was once known as the most dangerous and violent place in America.

During the late 19th century, however, the most feared man in Mulberry Bend was neither gang leader "Bill the Butcher" Poole nor his blood-thirsty Bowery Boys. Neither was it Irish mob boss John Morrissey or Tammany Hall thug Paudeen McLaughlin. No, the most feared denizen of Mulberry Bend was a diminutive Italian banana merchant by the name of Casoli Paracrotti.


Bandit's Roost, Mulberry Bend, circa 1888


During the late 1890s, whenever the tiny, friendless fruit merchant in dirty rags pushed his cart around Mulberry Bend, the crowds would immediately disperse. The more religious among them would mutter prayers and turn away, while the superstitious clutched their talismans and rubbed the feet of dead rabbits. Even the children scurried away in fright, screaming their warning: "The banana man is coming! Be quiet, or he'll kill you!"

Paracrotti was not a criminal mastermind, a crooked law patrolman or a man of violence, but he was what the Italians refer to as a jettatore-- a jinx, a bringer of bad luck, possessor of the dreaded "evil eye". And it has been written that more than 50 persons met their demise simply by being acquainted with him. For this reason Paracrotti was a lonely man; no man wanted to be his friend, no woman wanted to marry him, and even inside the Catholic church on Roosevelt Street he was relegated to the back pew, shunned as if he were the carrier of a deadly and highly contagious disease.

The "Bend" of Mulberry Bend




The Jettatore's First Victims


The story of the lonely life of Casoli Paracrotti begins in southern Italy. At the age of sixteen, his parents hired him out to a wealthy nobleman as a gamekeeper, tasked with the job of keeping poachers and trespassers at bay. Paracrotti, who was the creative and inventive sort, tackled the job with youthful enthusiasm, and one day he proudly showed off his new invention to his employer. It was a booby trap, designed to set off a frightful but nonlethal explosion when triggered by an unsuspecting poacher. While demonstrating his contraption it accidentally exploded, killing two stable hands and the only son of the wealthy nobleman. Paracrotti lost two of his own fingers in the blast.

The young man, fearing revenge from his employer, fled from the estate and sought shelter with his brother and brother-in-law in Terra del Mauro, where they operated a stagecoach line. Paracrotti earned his keep as a stable boy. One day, shortly after his arrival, Paracrotti became enraged at an ill-tempered horse. In his rage he picked up a stone to throw, but missed the horse and struck his brother in the temple by accident, killing him instantly. He was arrested but eventually released, and returned to work for his brother-in-law.

As fate would have it, the brother-in-law died a horrible, agonizing death after drinking pesticide which Paracrotti had poured into an empty bottle that had previously held brandy. The brother-in-law, who stumbled across the bottle while rummaging through the barn, mistook it for liquor. Once again the young man was arrested and charged with murder, only to be acquitted. However, by this time the young man's reputation as a jinx had spread and Paracrotti was ordered by authorities to leave town and never come back.

He eventually found work as a laborer and joined a crew of workmen who were engaged in building a tunnel designed to carry water. Through a misunderstanding or miscalculation, Paracrotti made an error that resulted in 21 men being drowned. He fled once again, eventually settling in Pazznoli, where he secured employment aboard a cargo ship.




On the third day of his first voyage Paracrotti was stricken with fever and quarantined, without access to food or water. During the night, after his guard had fallen asleep, Paracrotti crept away from his quarters and located the ship's water tank. Overcome with thirst, he plunged his head into the water and drank his fill-- unintentionally contaminating the water supply with his germs. Illness soon spread among the crew, claiming the lives of six.

When the cargo ship returned to shore the survivors were taken to a local hospital. Paracrotti was confronted by an angry crewman who assaulted him, nearly beating him to death. He was too small in stature and too weak from illness to defend himself, so one his shipmates rushed to his defense. During the ensuing quarrel knives were drawn, and Paracrotti's defender was stabbed to death, thus becoming the 32nd victim of the dreaded jettatore. It was this event which made him decide to leave Italy for good and begin a new life in America.

It was March of 1895 when Casoli Paracrotti arrived in New York, and the events of his first day are recorded thusly:



Paracrotti's arrival in Five Points occurred during some of the most violent and turbulent times in the history of New York City, a time when death seemed to lurk behind every door and hide in the shadows of every dreary rat-infested alley of Mulberry Bend. So who can say with any degree of certainly just how many more unfortunate victims died after crossing the path of the tiny Italian banana vendor?                               



Science confirms Earth's core is solid

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For generations schoolchildren have been taught that the core of the Earth is liquid, while a smaller percentage of non-conformists adhere to the theory that the earth is hollow. Science has now conclusively proven that the earth is solid, confirming the theory first proposed by female Danish seismologist Inge Lehmann in 1936.

According to Daily Mail, Associate Professor Hrvoje Tkalčić and PhD Scholar Than-Son Phạm of Australia National University (ANU) arrived at this conclusion by studying shear waves, or 'J waves', which are produced by earthquakes and can only travel through solid objects. These waves cannot be observed directly, so the researchers had to devise a creative way to detect them.

They accomplished this feat though correlation wavefield method, a method which has been traditionally used to calculate the thickness of the ice-shelf in Antarctica. This correlation wavefield method also revealed another interest fact about the planet's core.

'We found the inner core is indeed solid, but we also found that it's softer than previously thought,' stated Associate Professor Tkalčić, who added that the core shares similar elastic properties with gold and platinum.


Tkalčić and Pham's research into J waves and the Earth's core can be accessed through Science Magazine.

The Curious History of the Magic 8-Ball

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With the possible exception of the Ouija board, the best-selling prognostication device in American history is the Magic 8-Ball. According to Mattel, over one million Magic 8-Balls are sold each year. I've owned one, and there's a good chance that you have too. However, while almost every man, woman and child is familiar with this beloved toy, few people are aware of its curious history.

Here are some truly fascinating facts about the Magic 8-Ball and its inventor, Albert Carter.



1. Carter was the son of a real-life fortune-teller



The inspiration behind Albert Carter's toy was a divination device used by his mother, Mary, who eked out a living as a professional clairvoyant in Cincinnati, Ohio, during the early 1900s. It was based on a tool used by psychics for "automatic writing"-- the supposedly supernatural phenomenon of jotting down words without conscious thought.



2. Carter's toy was originally known as the Syco-Seer


1945 ad for Carter's Syco-Seer



In 1945, Carter's invention hit toy store shelves, although his original creation bore little resemblance to the fortune-telling toy we know and love today. The Syco-Seer operated on the same principle as the Magic 8-Ball, though it was not round. It was a 7-inch tube filled with a dark inky substance and contained a traditional 6-sided die with various answers printed on the sides.


3. Alabe Crafts is a mash-up of the names of Carter and his cousin




The Magic 8-Ball design we are all familiar with today was created not by Albert Carter, but a mechanical engineer by the name of Abe Bookman (who was also his cousin). In the early days, Magic 8-Balls were manufactured by a company known as Alabe Crafts, which is a name formed by combining the names of the company's founders: Al (Carter) and Abe (Bookman).

Alabe Crafts enjoyed considerable popularity as a novelty company during its heyday in the 1940s and 50s, producing such classic toys as Hook-a-Crook and 3D Chess. Less popular, however was "Poverty Pup"-- a dog-shaped piggy bank which debuted in 1967. Alabe Crafts was sold to Ideal a few years later, and Ideal was then sold to Tyco Toys. Tyco was purchased by Mattel in 1997.



4. Albert Carter never actually got to see a Magic 8-Ball


Although Carter is credited as the toy's inventor, he never actually got to see the familiar black-and-white orb known as the Magic 8-Ball. Albert passed away in 1948, a couple of years before his cousin perfected the design. At the time of his demise, the toy was still known as the Syco-Seer.



5. Liquid-Filled Die Agitator



As far as the U.S. Patent Office is concerned, there's no such thing as a Magic 8-Ball. Abe Bookman's patent (#3,119,621) was officially granted on January 28, 1964, under the heading: Liquid Filled Die Agitator Containing a Die Having Raised Indicia on the Facets Thereof.

As to the chemical composition of the mysterious blue liquid? It's just a mixture of alcohol and dye.




6. Abe and Al were a couple of optimistic fellas


Although the Magic 8-Ball has undergone a handful of minor tweaks during its long history, one of the toy's most enduring and recognizable features is its 20-sided icosahedron die. Of the 20 possible answers given by the Magic 8-Ball, 10 are affirmative, 5 are negative and 5 are neutral.



7. The Magic 8-Ball would have have existed without Brunswick Billiards.

1951 ad for the Magic 8-Ball


By the early 1950s, sales of the Syco-Seer had plummeted and the company founded by the two cousins from Cincinnati seemed to be on the verge of financial ruin. That is, until another Cincinnati company-- Brunswick Billiards-- approached Abe Bookman and asked him to create a billiard ball-shaped version of the Syco-Seer for a promotional campaign. In November of 1951 Alabe began marketing the toy as the "Magic 8-Ball", with a retail price of $1.98. This, coincidentally, was the same price as its predecessor, the Syco-Seer. The redesigned product was an instant hit, and the rest is history.
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