Previously on Acton Books:- Doc Davison of Hawesville, Kentucky took involvement in local government too far when he broke into jail to kill an opponent. Still free and harbouring a grudge against another prominent citizen of his little town in Kentucky, he became America’s first suicide bomber. Nature or nurture? The Davison children were no… Continue reading Bad deeds from bad seed
America’s first suicide bomber
It’s going to be an intriguing story when the 1860 news report from the Ohio River port town of Hawesville, Kentucky begins “Dr H.A. Davison, it will be remembered, was one of the persons who entered the jail and shot Thomas S. Lowe about a year ago…” First up, murdering Lowe in his cell did not… Continue reading America’s first suicide bomber
Nor any drop to drink
A day does not pass when you do not encounter a millennial drunkard. There he is, shamelessly clutching a container of liquid in public; there she goes, sucking on her bottle in plain sight. They are the water drinkers. They are unlike other animals, which drink when, and only when, they are thirsty. Humankind has… Continue reading Nor any drop to drink
Just a graze…
Once upon a time the uncertainty and certainty of death hung over everybody, everywhere, all the time, as this brief report from the London Evening Standard in 1840 shows…
“colors are the smiles of nature.” – leigh hunt
From the pen of Ann Arbor’s best, I Didn’t have My Glasses On, comes news of interest to lovers of the colour purple who wish to write a poem about it
Giving it all away
On this day in 1852 there died a man who these days would have been given therapy for his condition. He was, in those unreconstructed times, called a miser. There is probably a pressure group somewhere railing as you read this that the terminally stingy and absurdly mean should never be referred to in such… Continue reading Giving it all away
Bull running in England? Why haven’t I heard of it?
Bull running in Lincolnshire? Why haven’t I heard of it? Thankfully because it was banned long, long ago. You probably don’t want to know what happened to each year’s Stamford bull on the feast of St Brice’s Day, but it wasn’t a happy day for el toro on November 13. Rules demanded that while the… Continue reading Bull running in England? Why haven’t I heard of it?
Beastliness and mischief – St Brice’s Day
Firstly St Brice — usual story; orphan boy picked up by a priest. Grown up bad, Brice, or Britius to call him by his given name, sealed his reputation as a man who had not yet seen the light of God after a nun in his household gave birth to his child. Thereafter only a trip… Continue reading Beastliness and mischief – St Brice’s Day
Celestial Mechanics
There are bad and less bad racial epithets and stereotypes. Yank or Limey does not hurt, but in a world of generation snowflake, where people melt into a puddle of offence taken at the slightest insensitivity or viewpoint that isn’t theirs, it is worth noting what it was that 19th century Americans labelled the Chinese, those indentured semi slaves dragged… Continue reading Celestial Mechanics
Who killed Harry Larkyns?
Nowadays the average twentysomething works their way through temporary though deep relationships before permanence happens in the shape of marriage (or something like it). For 19th century women it wasn’t so easy. So we can forgive, if that is the appropriate word, San Francisco shop worker Flora Shallcross Stone. To not appear ‘flighty’ it… Continue reading Who killed Harry Larkyns?