Good Times: The First Ward Ball

By Lorelie Brown

Corruption, booze and Chicago.

Nope, I'm not talking about Al Capone. Chicago was a happening place long before him.

Mike "Hinky Dink" Kenna and "Bathhouse" John Coughlin were aldermen for Chicago's First Ward. The First Ward was also known as the Levee, on the south side of the city. Coughlin was a big, brash man who apparently wore very brightly colored clothes and was elected as alderman in 1892. (And he kept up the habit of writing bad poetry. Really bad. Who titles a poem "She Sleeps by the Drainage Canal" in all seriousness?) Kenna was his exact opposite, small and quiet, but he still won election in 1897.

Hinky Dink Kenna (left) and Bathhouse John Coughlin (right).

The Levee wasn't exactly the most posh area of Chicago, not by far. In fact, it was the red light district, where thieves, pickpockets and brawlers roamed. The prostitutes ranged from the cheap tricks of "Bed Bug Row" to the high-class birds of the Everleigh Sisters' establishment, where a bottle of wine was $12 downstairs or $15 in the room. (I promise, it's more money than it sounds like these days.)

So when it came time for fundraising, they did it up right.

Kenna, Coughlin and every other official of the area sold tickets to the First Ward Ball, to be held in December. Buying a ticket was good. Buying a pack of fifty tickets was even better. Not buying tickets could leave a saloon owner or brothel madam to all sorts of harassment--from the police, of course. Ah, extortion at its best. Starting in 1896, the First Ward Ball only got wilder and wilder until 1908, the last year.

But the fun really started at the actual ball. Thousands of people crammed into the Coliseum. At midnight Hinky Dink Kenna and Bathhouse John Coughlin led the entire crowd--well, those who weren't too drunk to stand--in a procession around the floor as the band played "Hail, Hail, The Gang's All Here."

After that, things hit a fevered pitch. Madams handed out free champagne and the bottles were stacked in pyramids--until they became too tall and began to topple. Drunk men ripped at the clothes of unaccompanied women. A thirty-foot bar crumpled under yet another brawl. People dressed in bathing suits, fine gowns and costumes--everything from clowns to Indians--and one notorious whore wore a nun's habit. In the corner, another prostitute whipped willing men's naked butts with a crop.

By 1908, the last year, 30,000 people were crammed in a venue meant for half that number. And every single one of them were determined to get their drink on. Women passed out from the heat (and the booze) and were crowd-surfed to the corner, where they were simply piled in stacks.

I mean seriously. This was a political fundraiser.

But it was also the last of its kind. Reformers had been after Mayor Busse to put a halt to the spectacle, but he'd resisted. The Coliseum was the victim of a bombing December 12, 1908, the day before the ball. It didn't hold them up that year, but next year they were done for. Mayor Busse gave in to pressure from the reformers to deny a liquor license and without alcohol there wasn't much left.

Hinky Dink and Bathhouse John held on to power a little while longer, despite being forced to less dramatic methods of fundraising. Eventually though, they retired. Other men swept in and took their place, including Al Capone. But he'd never hold a torch to the vivid descriptions of the First Ward Ball, at least not in my eyes.

Good Times: Parlor Games

By Jennifer Linforth

In preparation to interview an escape artist, gambler, and magician for an upcoming book set in Victorian London, I stumbled into the world of Victorian parlor games. I needed one for the opening of this book and found "Poor Pussy." Strangely enough my magician's wife recalls playing a game called "Pat the Kitty" as a child.

Gathering together for parlor games was popular in the evenings in Victorian families. The central theme of many of them were games involving trying not to laugh. Poor Pussy was one of them. It involved one proper guest having to mill around on all fours amongst the seated company, meowing and stopping in front of someone who then had to say "poor pussy" without ever cracking a smile. Neither the cat or guest could smile. If one of them did the latter was the next cat.

I never recalled playing that as a child but I do remember this...

The Laughing Game where players sat in a circle and one says "ha." The next, "ha-ha" and so on until someone laughed in earnest.

Many games we know today stemmed from Victorian parlor games. Red-Light, Green Light, Simon Says, Charades and Musical Chairs. Hot Potato of today sounds very similar to the game of "Change" where an object was passed in a circle and directions shifted out of the blue.

Hunt the Thimble sounds like great fun. The mistress of the house would hide a tiny object in a room and guests would have to search for it. When they found it, they simply took their seat until one poor person was left still looking for the item.

Victorians seemed to enjoy embarrassing each other...

...or catching each other for that matter. There were many versions of Duck, Duck, Goose then called Wolf and the Lambs.

Memory games such as Grandmother's Trunk were wildly popular (hence the interview with my magician who is a master of Victorian memory games. His website is here: Dr. Wilson ) In this game a player would say "My grandmother has a trunk and in it is.... apples" or some such item beginning with the letter A. Around the room they would go, each guest having to build on this list with a new item with the following letter while remembering and reciting as well all the items before!

Way more fun than Wii? Oui?

Good Times: Lord of Misrule

By Anna C. Bowling

The English tradition of the Lord of Misrule, a fixture of Christmas feasts until well into the sixteenth century, originated with the ancient Roman feast of the saturnalia. To honor the god Saturn, Romans turned the social order upside down, with nobles behaving as servants and servants set at their masters' tables. Master waited upon slave, with great feasting and merriment, all overseen by the Lord of Misrule, a servant who could order anyone to do anything he pleased to keep the party going. Well, at least until the end of the festival. Then he was sacrificed.

When Romans expanded into Britain, they brought their festivities with them, mixing with the locals. The Celts had their own version of the Lord of Misrule, called the Year King, who could also command the favors of any woman he fancied.

With the advent of Christianity, some of the old Saturnalian traditions became incorporated into Christmas celebrations. Most important for those Lords of Misrule who came later, the sacrificial aspect fell by the wayside and the fun became the main part of the function. During the appointed Christmas season, the Lord of Misrule dressed in motley clothing and could command those usually counted as his betters to do silly, amusing or even embarrassing things. Games, songs, races, dances and other entertainments all fell under his duties as well as plays or masques. There might also be a mock court, with charges, defenses and penalties all falling under the patently absurd.

How far the revelry extended could vary from place to place, depending on the individual Lord. Accounts exist of honest travelers who happened to pass through certain towns with ribald Lords finding themselves accosted and spanked before being allowed to go on their way. Cross-dressing, indoor animal races and a general drop in inhibitions did not go over well with some clergy, who preferred people have a more reverent celebration of Christ's birth. By the time the practice faded out in the late sixteenth century, one might even find professional Lords of Misrule, actors or entertainers who would hire themselves out during the season for the sole purpose of creating the liveliest, wildest celebration possible. Part party planner, part clown, part public relations professional, such a professional might well find themselves able to command quite a fee for filling exactly that position today.

Traces of the Lord of Misrule's traditions still carry on today, with the modern Christmas cracker, a cardboard tube wrapped in festive paper. Crackers make a popping sound when pulled, yielding a nominal prize, often a paper hat or crown.

Good Times: Shivaree

By Elizabeth Lane

Frontier weddings were a great excuse for celebration. Given time, money and good weather, the bride and groom might host a picnic or dance for their guests. But the liveliest form of wedding entertainment was the shivaree--the hazing of the newlyweds on their wedding night.

The origins of the word "charivari" are likely from the Roman caribaria, meaning headache or the Greek kerebaria: kera (head) and barys (heavy), named for the effect of the cacophony on the hapless newlyweds. The tradition has been practiced for at least 700 years as it is depicted in an engraving in "Roman de Fauvel"--an early 14th century French manuscript.

Charivari, or shivaree, started as a French folk custom, going back to the Middle Ages. It was originally a mark of disfavor--for example, if the neighbors thought a widow had remarried too soon. But in the American West, the shivaree was all in fun.

One writer describes the shivaree as a combination of trick-or-treating, fraternity hazing, and Christmas caroling. The participants would gather at a neighbor's place, maybe having a few drinks to warm up. As night fell, they would converge on the house where the newlyweds had gone, trying to arrive shortly after the couple got into bed. On a signal, they would start singing, yelling, and banging on pots and pans. If the couple refused to come out, they would bang on the door, demanding to come inside and have a drink.

If the groom opened the door and gave them money or a treat they might go away and finish the party somewhere else. But if the uproar was ignored, they might break in, kidnap the groom, take him far away, and leave him to find his way home in the dark--perhaps undressed.

One Kansas newspaper provides the following description of a shivaree party: "They performed such tricks as shooting bullets through the windows, breaking down the door, dragging the couple out of bed and tumbling them about on the floor, and indulging in other equally innocent tricks." The editor added, "It requires backbone to get married out this way."

My prim little grandma, who married in the early 1900s, described the shivaree that took place on her wedding night. A group of friends showed up demanding to come in for refreshments. She and Grandpa barred the door and wouldn't let the celebrants in.

Even in my day, growing up in a small western town, the shivaree wasn't an unknown custom, especially if the bride and groom were in their teens, with lots of friends around. I've heard of friends sneaking into a reserved motel room, short-sheeting the bed (if you have to ask what that is you're a lot younger than I am) and doing things to the toilet that involved saran wrap, Vaseline or Jello. I myself have enjoyed decorating a friend's car with embarrassing slogans and yards of toilet paper.

How about you? Do you know of anyone who's been shivareed? Have you ever played tricks on someone at a wedding? Did anyone play tricks at your wedding?

Good Times: Food Fight

By Zoe Archer

No, Bluto, not that kind of food fight.

It seems that as long as there have been cultures blessed with a surplus of food, there have been food fights. Frenetic, messy, anarchic food fights. A collective release of aggression that also, mysteriously, builds community. One moment, you’re throwing tomatoes at your neighbor’s head, the next moment, you wrap them in a tomatoey, pulpy hug.

Our food fight tour begins first in Spain, where the famous Tomatina Food Fight is held in the village of Buñol, near Valencia. If you happen to be in Buñol on the fourth Wednesday of August, be sure to wear clothing you don’t mind getting stained. La Tomatina is a fairly recent event, its earliest origins dating to somewhere in the 1940s. Apparently, a civil disturbance in the town lead to a confrontation with local police, and this degenerated (or evolved) into a tomato fight.

That food fight was so popular that it became an annual occurrence, and is now a huge tourist attraction, drawing more than 20,000 eager tomato-throwers from around the world. A week-long fiesta culminates in a climactic tomato battle. Trucks laden with 90,000 pounds of tomatoes rumble into town, and people on the backs of the trucks throw tomatoes into the crowd. The crowd retaliates, and soon a full-blown batalla takes place between anyone and everyone who happens to be in throwing distance. Within thirty minutes, the battle is over, and combatants/celebrants all head down to the river for a good wash.

For those of you who need more vitamin C, we head to the small Italian town of Ivrea, 40 miles north of Turin. Here, during Carnival, the local citizens commemorate an 1194 insurrection against a local despot with a Battle of the Oranges. Popular lore has it that the tyrant attempted to exercise his droit de seigneur with an unwilling maiden on the eve before her wedding. The maiden, Violetta, turned the tables on her would-be assailant and decapitated him, after which, the populace stormed and destroyed the castle.

The event and assertion of independence is celebrated by teams of Aranceri (orange handlers) on foot throwing oranges at Aranceri riding in carts. Originally, beans were thrown by the celebrants, but some time in the 19th century oranges became the projectiles of choice--which are considerably harder than beans, especially after a winter frost. No wonder many of the Aranceri wear helmets.

Stretching the definition of "food fight," we head north, to Cooper’s Hill, near Gloucester in England. During the Spring Bank Holiday, local citizens and tourists make a mad dash down a steep hill for a wheel of Double Gloucester cheese. It’s estimated that the event is over two hundred years old, though between 1941 and 1954, a wooden cheese took the place of the actual cheese due to rationing. During the event, a round of cheese is rolled down Cooper's Hill and, one second later, competitors race after the cheese. The hill is very steep, and not only does the cheese reach high velocity, so do the racers. Sprains and broken bones are not uncommon. Separate races are run for men, women and children, with the winners receiving small monetary compensation as well as a wheel of cheese--but everyone who tumbles down Cooper's Hill in pursuit of Double Gloucester is a winner. Surely Wallace would agree.

Good Times: Horse Racing

By Jacquie Rogers

When the first two people walked the face of this earth, one of them had to prove he could go faster than the other. Whatever means was available in any time and place, people have raced. Foot races, camel races, elephant races, buffalo races, ostrich races...on and on. Hey, the human race is called the "human race." Must be something to that.

And horse races.

Probably the oldest continuous horse race in the world is held in Mongolia, the Naadam Festival, featuring the Eriin Gurvan Naadam--the three manly sports of archery, wrestling, and horse racing. The horse races are from 12 to 35 kilometers in length and the riders, both boys and girls, are from four to 12 years of age (the minimum age was recently raised to six years old). The horses are trained rigorously for this event, and the winner brings great prestige to its owner.

In Britain, knights arrived home from the Crusades with Arabian horses--warm bloods that where sleek and fast. These were bred with the Hobby horses native to the British Isles. Henry VIII had a bad case of racing fever, then his daughter, Elizabeth I, continued improving the breeding program. This went on until Cromwell, who switched from breeding for speed to breeding for the cavalry. At any rate, Englishmen were dedicated to thoroughbred horse racing from then on.

Professional horse racing as we know it started in the 1700s during the rein of Queen Anne. Later in 1750, the Jockey Club was formed, which created the rules generally used today. In the 1790s, James Weatherby recorded all the horses' pedigrees in the General Stud Book. His descendants have been the keepers of the General Stud Book to this day.

Britain's five race classics are: Derby Stakes, the Oaks, the One Thousand Guineas, the Saint Leger, and the Two Thousand Guineas. The Saint Leger is the oldest, formed in 1776. The Derby Stakes, named after the 12th Earl of Derby and held at Epsom Downs, is the richest and most prestigious of Britain's races.

The Belmont Stakes is the oldest of the USA's Triple Crown. The first race was held in 1867. The Preakness started in 1873 and the Kentucky Derby (at the right) began in 1875. These races followed the English tradition, and the Belmont even specified the saddles must be made by Merry of St. James Street, London. The term "Triple Crown" was first used in the 1930s and was coined after Britain's Triple Crown.

While reading The Owyhee Avalanche (Homedale, Idaho), I saw this article in the "Looking Back" section, republished from the July 9, 1870, issue of The Owyhee Avalanche (then in Silver City, Idaho Territory).

THE FOURTH AT WAGONTOWN

A number of our citizens attended the races at Wagontown last Monday. Everything passed off in the most satisfactory manner. There were four races of a quarter of a mile each, as follows: LW Walker's chestnut horse and Jno Catalows's sorrel mare, for $50 a side, won by the latter. Second, Tim Shay's sorrel horse and Frenchman's roan filly, for $40 a side, won by Shay's horse. Third, Catalow's sorrel mare and Frenchman's sorrel horse, for $50 a side, Catalow's mare winner. Fourth, Jordans's black mare and Tom Walls' gray horse, for $45 a side, Jordan's mare winner.

That's pretty good money for 140 years ago, but a pittance compared to what went on in San Francisco, CA.

Gradually, as wealthy men made a hobby or a sideline of breeding horses, Western races became more carefully orchestrated, the crowds grew and betting flourished. Indeed, gambling and a day at the races became a virtually synonymous. And when Westerners got around to staging formal stakes races the prizes were sometimes much richer than those back East. In 1873 what was billed as "the richest race in the world" was run at Ocean View Park in San Francisco. The winner's purse was $20,000 paid in gold. In the same year New York's famous Belmont was worth only $5,200 and Maryland's Preakness a mere $1,800. ~ From: Gamblers of the Old West, p.200

Currently, Mongolia hosts the longest horse race in the world, 1,000 kilometers. It's actually patterned after Ghengis Khan's mail system, where a horse and rider had to go from water to water, usually about 30 kilometers. Think Pony Express. The US certainly wasn't the first to come up with that system.

There's every iteration of horse racing you can think of: barrel races, sulky races, chariot races, suicide races, wild horse races, endurance races, and many more. Mule racing is becoming popular now, too.

I read that horse racing is the second most popular sport in the United States. That's interesting because in today's society, a lot more people know how to drive cars than know how to ride horses, so you'd think horse racing enthusiasm would diminish. But all over the world, horse racing is as popular as ever.

Sources:
Horse Racing History
History of Horse Racing
Belmont Stakes
The Owyhee Avalanche

I wish Good Times to all of you!
Jacquie

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Good Times: Royal Marriage

By Margaret Mallory

On June 2, 1420, Henry V of England and Catherine de Valois, daughter of Charles VI of France, were wed. Although Henry was said to be enamored with the French princess upon first sight, he waited until his military victories in France ensured that his political and dowry demands would be met. Henry was the sort who always put duty first--something Catherine would have to get used to during their short marriage.

You might expect that the joining of two royal families would be followed by days of feasting. Henry did stay the night to consummate the marriage. The next day, however, the busy king left his bride with her horrid mother and set off to take yet another city. And then another. And, alas, another. Catherine must have felt as if she'd married a soldier on a weekend pass--and a soldier she barely knew, at that.

Finally, enough cities had surrendered that Henry was ready to make his grand entry into Paris and celebrate.

I don't have a picture of Henry V and Princess Catherine entering Paris, but this painting is of Catherine's mother entering Paris thirty years earlier. I believe the castle is the Louvre.

And celebrate they did. Henry and his bride entered Paris with great fanfare--and accompanied by the bride's frequently-insane father, who had named Henry as his heir. The crowds in Paris gave them an enthusiastic welcome, in hope that the English king would bring peace.

For nearly four weeks, the royal couple celebrated Christmas, their marriage, and the joy of Henry's conquests in grand style at the Louvre Palace. Then it was time to move the celebration to England.

Henry and Catherine left Paris on Dec 27 and spent Epiphany (January 6) at Rouen--a business stop for Henry. At the end of January, they crossed the channel to Dover, where the conquering hero and his bride were greeted with wild rejoicing. On February 21, 1421, they entered London to yet more wild rejoicing. Catherine was crowned Queen of England in a splendid ceremony two days later.

Even in the midst of celebration, matters of state were foremost on Henry's mind. The war in France was expensive. Now that there was peace in England--thanks to Henry's efforts--Parliament was squawking about the cost. The crown already owed a fortune to the king's uncle, Bishop Beaufort, for the war effort.

So, why not use this joyous occasion for fundraising? Henry decided to take a tour of the kingdom to introduce his new queen--and raise money for the war. They set out "on progress," visiting St. Albans, Bristol, Shrewsbury, York, Lincoln, Norwich and King's Lynn. The king's English subjects were thrilled with their new queen, and the royals drew crowds everywhere they went. Men with money pledged funds for the war effort.

Adding to their joy, Catherine was with child.

The good times rolled--and funds were raised--until the King received news from France of a disastrous battle. His brother, the Duke of Clarence, who was in charge of Henry's forces in France, had been killed. The King prepared to return to France.

With his heir conceived, his bride crowned, and funds raised, it was time to end the celebrations and consolidate his control over France.

By my estimation, the couple had less than six months of good times together, from December, when they entered Paris, until June, when Henry returned to France for his last campaign. The following summer, Catherine left their baby, Henry's heir, in England when she went to France to join her ill husband. Henry died August 31, 1422 near Paris.

*All images courtesy of Wikipedia

Good Times: The USO

By Carrie Lofty

Contrary to popular opinion, the USO (United Service Organization) wasn't entirely about WWII-era dances and popular entertainment. Formed in 1941, it was established as a private non-profit organization devoted to providing morale-building services of all kinds to members of the armed forces. This included religious needs, games and recreation, temporary lodging, postage services, the distribution of books and magazines, and food stations in cities, ports and railway stations. Particularly famous were USO doughnuts. If USO volunteers were handing out food, doughnuts were sure to be involved!

The USO was chartered by Congress to bring a variety of hitherto separate units under one united banner, but it was and remains technically independent of the US government. I say "technically" because the USO worked very closely in conjunction with the War Department, and continues to coordinate its efforts today with the Department of Defense and Homeland Security. No matter how nominally independent, the organizers of USO events and services were never going to put their people in harm's way or compromise military operations.

A USO canteen dance in 1943
USO dances became a staple of life of wartime life. Girls considered to be of the best character were chosen to host and participate in these canteen dances, both at home and in foreign nations such as Britain. Morale was buoyed by the girls' clean-washed hair, pretty smiles, and patient conversations. Because of how near this skirted toward hints of offering their bodies of comfort--eep! almost prostitution!--the USO was especially strict to enforce their chosen boundaries of propriety.

Girls were trained in how to talk with servicemen, how to make them feel included, and how to firmly tell them "no" at the end of the night. Volunteers were discouraged from dancing too frequently with the same man, and they were forbidden from leaving the premises with servicemen. Even the exchange of phone numbers so that eager young people could arrange an after-work rendezvous was prohibited. (Not to say some folks didn't get around the restrictions!)

Bob Hope performing on a USO tour
Camp Shows also became widely recognized aspects of USO morale. Entertainers from all walks--from Bob Hope and other tremendous stars, to independent troupes of acrobats, singers, poets, classical musicians, and ballerinas--all made the rounds. Homefront shows were organized to keep restless men in training camps from becoming too bored and destructive to local towns. "Foxhole Circuit" tours of the the European and Pacific Theaters soon followed, from Alaska to Egypt to New Guinea. These intrepid performers traveled at their own risk, but they also performed under the USO's very strict watch. Anyone who deviated from an approved show schedule and script could be sent home instantly, contract canceled.

Contrary to what you might expect of entertainment aimed at hundreds of hard-up, lonely soldiers, USO performers were expressly forbidden from making their shows too vulgar or sexual. In fact, the longer a man had been in the field--such as Marines who had not been home for two years or more--the more eager he was for wholesome entertainment. They had seen enough vulgarity and had experienced far too much degradation and shame to want that reflected in their entertainment. Pretty girls in good Sunday dresses who sang songs of home were the most appreciated entertainers--the sorts of girls they were fighting for, the sort of girls waiting for them to return.

The Andrews Sisters on tour for the USO

Good Times: Drinking Games of the Past

By Jeannie Lin

"Drunkenness is nothing but voluntary madness." ~ Seneca, Roman philosopher and statesman (3 BC–65 AD)

What are good times without a small discussion of drinking and the games that people play while drinking? A brief survey of the drinking games of old reveals that alcohol and the revelry in its presence is a humble yet universal link across different times and cultures.

One of the earliest written records of a drinking game was in Plato's Symposium where a group of men attend a drinking party and deliver speeches about Eros, love. The game there was simple as drinking games tend to be: fill a bowl with wine, drain it, slap it down, pass it on.


The ancient Greeks also played a game called kottabos, which involved flinging dregs of wine from their bowls onto a target at the center of the room, with prizes or penalties designated for making or missing the mark. Then there was an even simpler drinking game--endurance drinking. The host would designate a number. Anyone who couldn't hang would be banned from future games.

The ancient Chinese also had a host of drinking games to liven an evening. The basic game had an appropriately descriptive name, "Bottoms Up." The elite and educated would often play drinking games that involved spouting poetry or guessing riddles. Less literate games involved drinking based on the roll of a dice or drinking contests with referees and governors. One game involved setting up a series of puppets of dolls dressed as Westerners in the center of the room. When one fell over, whoever it pointed to had to drink.

A famous Chinese drinking game involves both coordination and rhythm. Tiger, Chicken, Worm, Board is believed to have been around since medieval times and is variant on Rock, Paper, Scissors:

• chicken eats worm
• tiger eats chicken
• board hits tiger
• worm eats board

It involves a chant, pounding out a rhythm on the table, and then shouting out of one of the items. Missing a beat or losing the battle results in a penalty drink.

A variant of the "Tiger, Chicken, etc" or "Rock, Paper, Scissors" drinking game became a popular staple of the geisha drinking culture, which flourished in 17th and 18th century Japan. Geisha were trained in the exquisite arts of dance, music, and conversation. They also had a range of parlor games and drinking contests in their arsenal to keep their guests entertained.


Sometimes simple is best. A drinking game that originated in 14th century France involved a special drinking vessel--the puzzle jug. The contestant was given a jug with holes built into the design. The goal was to tilt it just right to get to the alcohol. My guess is most of the players must have already been inebriated to start with as most of the drink inevitably poured out of the holes onto the victim to the enjoyment of all onlookers.

The pinnacle of special drinking vessels has to be the yard of ale, a one yard long glass that holds 3 pints. Most likely this practice originated in 17th century England. John Evelyn, a Fellow of the Royal Society, records the practice of toasting James II with a yard of ale in Kent in 1683. Drinking a yard of ale became a traditional pub game. As with all classical games, the rules were easy. Drink the entire yard without pausing.

The still popular "yard of ale"

In more recent history, the popular game of "beer pong" is believed to have originated in the 1950s at Dartmouth College and morphed from the practice of playing ping pong and drinking beer at the same time. The origin of the popular game of "quarters" is unknown. It belongs to antiquity.

Good times to all and remember to drink responsibly!

Good Times: England's First Coast-to-Coast Railway

By Michelle Styles

On 18 June 1838, the Newcastle to Carlisle railway officially open with a planned Grand Event. Rail traffic had already been travelling along the line since 1834, but 18 June marked the first time railway carriages would go the full length of the line. Newcastle to Carlisle was the first coast to coast railway and boasted such innovations as stations designed for passengers as well goods (Hexham).

The day was meticulously planned with passengers from Carlisle taking six early morning trains to Redheugh. They then went by steamer to the Newcastle quayside. (Newcastle Central Station was opened in 1851) So far, so good. And the organisers were justifiably proud of the event. They should have perhaps noted that the 18th of June is Waterloo day and that Waterloo was a close run thing. But at this stage, the organisers were enjoying the day.

Things began to go wrong when a gangway collapsed and dumped about dozen people in all their finery into the Tyne.

Breakfast at the Assembly Rooms took rather longer than expected. When the various Great and Good went to find their seats, they discovered the general public had already boarded the trains. The chief magistrates of Carlisle and Newcastle were obliged to take refuge in a pig cart while the rest of the civic dignitaries scrambled for seats in the open carriages.

Finally, the 13 packed trains started off with one engine having a steam engine fitted to its front and gaily playing music.

Unfortunately for the Great and the Good stuck in the open carriages, the heavens opened and it rained solidly to Brampton. Once the very delayed trains reached Carlisle, there was a stampede for refreshments. The arranged procession through town had to be cancelled, and again there was a rush for the few remaining seats. It is to be supposed that the Great and the Good thought their ordeal had ended.

Unfortunately the journey back was worse. The rain continued. One train hit the back of another with two passengers injured. With the delays came, the call of nature and several gentlemen heeded it, only to have to rush back, clothing askew as the whistle sounded much to the amusement of other passengers. No comment is made about the discomfort ladies suffered.

Instead of arriving back in the early evening, the first train arrived back in Newcastle at 3 am, and the last at 6 am on the 19th.

It was a memorable day...if not quite what was planned.

The Newcastle to Carlisle railway is still in use today. The train journey is somewhat less fraught.

Good Times: Independence Day on the Oregon Trail

By Jennifer Mueller

By as early as 1800, Independence Day celebrations were common. Traveling across the wilderness with little to call their own, celebrating the day on the Oregon Trail was a reason to escape the drudgery of five to six months of constant travel. Independence Rock was looked for eagerly, starting the trail in the early spring, the emigrants hoped to reach Independence Rock by July 4. If they had not arrived by then, they knew they were behind schedule. Many scribed their names in the rock as a memento. It was a day to rest, with a feast the most likely indulgence. Diaries often mentioned the events.

Emigrant James Nesmith: "Had the pleasure of waiting on five or six young ladies to pay a visit to Independence Rock. I had the satisfaction of putting the names of Miss Mary Zachary and Miss Jane Mills on the southeast point of the rocks."

Emigrant Margaret Hecox: "Being the fourth of July, we concluded to lay by and celebrate the day. The children had no fireworks, but we all joined in singing patriotic songs and shared in a picnic lunch."

But for an unpublished story of my own, I created a trail diary of a fictional crossing with a little more detail...

July the 4th
We lay abed this morning. All had a go as you please. Some hunted and fished, others lounged, while the children played games. Flags hung from several wagons. Another train pulled up and joined us for the celebration of our country's independence. A salute to our grand country was fired from 150 guns. All up and down the river we can hear similar salutes from those that left before and after us.

With so many women with us the feast that followed was immense. Roast antelope, roast sage hen, roast rabbit, antelope stew, sage hen stew, jack rabbit stew, antelope pot pie, sage hen fried, jack rabbit fried, fish fried. Irish potatoes brought from Ohio, Boston baked beans, rice, pickles, white bread, graham bread, warm rolls, biscuits, pound cake, fruit cake, jelly cake, Sweetwater mountain cake, peach pie, apple pie, strawberry pie, custard pie. Our two from New Orleans even introduced us to something called dirty rice made with the innards of the fowl we had killed. I don't know that I have ever eaten so much in my life.

After dinner as much brandy as could be found was rounded up and a great many toasts to our fair country were had. No one could forget the rash of Stewart weddings that took place, Alexander Stewart and Helen Vandeveer, Daniel Stewart and Charlotte Houlton, Duncan Stewart and Delia Drake.

Good Times: The Great Exhibition of 1851

By Anita Davison

"It is one of the puzzles of his life that with all his [Albert's] conscientious and admirable work and his really great ability he did not make people like him." ~ Bernard Darwin, 1932

Prince Albert was President of the Committee set up to organise the 1851 Exhibition of the Works of Industry of all Nations in the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park, London, from 1 May to 15 October 1851. Designed by Joseph Paxton, the Crystal Palace was constructed in Hyde Park. The first of the 1,060 iron columns went up in the autumn of 1850, together with 300,000 panes of glass fixed with over 200 miles of sash bars. Parts of it were high enough to enclose fully grown elm trees. The whole took less than a year to build and when completed, covered about nine acres. It was felt important at the time to show their achievements right alongside those of "less civilized" countries.

Of the 13,000 exhibits, the most popular were those housed in the machinery court where the possibilities of steam power were on display. It was a triumphant success and so many people visited it that they consumed over a million and a half buns. The initial entrance price of five shillings for the first three weeks attracted what the Times called 'the wealthy and the gently and nobly born'. Thomas Cook organised excursions by rail from Yorkshire, which boomed once the shilling entrance fees were introduced at the end of May, with profits totalling £170,000 which allowed for the foundation of public works such as the Albert Hall, the Science Museum, the National History Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum.

By the closure of the exhibition in October, more than six million people passed through the halls, representing about a fifth of the population of Great Britain at the time. The building was divided into a series of courts depicting the history of art and architecture from ancient Egypt through the Renaissance, as well as exhibits from industry and the natural world. Among them were the Jacquard loom, an envelope machine, tools, kitchen appliances, steel-making displays and a reaping machine from the United States.

Major concerts were held in the Palace's huge arched Centre Transept, which also contained the world's largest organ. This Transept also housed a circus and was the scene of daring feats by world famous acts such as the tightrope walker Blondin. A magnificent series of fountains, comprising almost 12,000 individual jets, the largest of which threw water to a height of 250ft. Some 120,000 gallons of water flowed through the system when it was in full play.

Once the Great Exhibition closed, the Crystal Palace was moved to Sydenham Hill in South London and opened by Queen Victoria on June 10th, 1854. The Crystal Palace was destroyed by fire on November 30th 1936.

An account of a visit to the Exhibition by Charlotte Bronte, 1851.

Yesterday I went for the second time to the Crystal Palace. We remained in it about three hours, and I must say I was more struck with it on this occasion than at my first visit. It is a wonderful place--vast, strange, new and impossible to describe.

Its grandeur does not consist in one thing, but in the unique assemblage of all things. Whatever human industry has created you find there, from the great compartments filled with railway engines and boilers, with mill machinery in full work, with splendid carriages of all kinds, with harness of every description, to the glass-covered and velvet-spread stands loaded with the most gorgeous work of the goldsmith and silversmith, and the carefully guarded caskets full of real diamonds and pearls worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.

It may be called a bazaar or a fair, but it is such a bazaar or fair as Eastern genii might have created. It seems as if only magic could have gathered this mass of wealth from all the ends of the earth--as if none but supernatural hands could have arranged it this, with such a blaze and contrast of colours and marvellous power of effect.

The multitude filling the great aisles seems ruled and subdued by some invisible influence. Amongst the thirty thousand souls that peopled it the day I was there not one loud noise was to be heard, not one irregular movement seen; the living tide rolls on quietly, with a deep hum like the sea heard from the distance.

Source: The Brontes' Life and Letters by Clement Shorter (1907)