July 14th, 2005 | Science & Natural History
1867, December, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
Apropos of the recent metoric [sic] showers and the explosion of steam boilers in every part of the country, Professor Loomis suggests an uncomfortable theory in regard to the safety of the earth itself. He thinks it is not impossible that sufficient steam might be generated in the burning centre of the world to blow the world to pieces. A volcanic eruption under the sea, or near it, like that of Vesuvius now in progress, may at any moment convert the earth into a huge steam-boiler by letting the water in upon the central fires, to be followed for ought we know, by an explosion that shall rend it apart and send the fragments careening through space as small planets or meteors, each bearing off some distracted member or members of the human family, to make, perchance, new discoveries and acquaintances in other parts of the planetary system now revolving with us. So that the final catastrophe may, after all, be only a boiler explosion on a magnificent scale of grandeur and destruction.
According to the eruption list, Vesuvius was erupting from 1864 to 1868.
Elias Loomis (1811-1899) was a prolific scientist and textbook author who measured the earth’s magnetic field, studied auroras, and did a lot of meteorology. He was an early professor at my alma mater, building one of the earliest and largest observatories in the American West (at that time, that meant Ohio). The building, at least still stands (as far as I can tell) on the campus of the prep school which remained in Hudson when Western Reserve College moved to Cleveland.
But in the several bits of biography I’ve seen on the web, nothing mentions him describing the likelihood of the earth blowing up in a puff of steam.
April 2nd, 2005 | Miscellany
1868, April, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
The farmers of Monee, Ill. have organized a market for the sale of stock. The sales take place the second Tuesday of every month. The first was held on the 10th ult., and was a decided success. The centre of attention was a large goat, gaily decorated, surnamed “Andrew Johnson.”
The editor of the PC&FV was using the original definition of “stock market” i.e. a livestock market.
A centralized livestock market was established in Chicago in 1866, which heralded the age of “improvements” in livestock breeds. Not that improvements weren’t already being made, but the focus was not only better meat, but better marketing. For instance, the International Live Stock Exhibition had as one of its goals to break down foreign resistance to American-bred meat.
Our meat animals and meat-food products must become so excellent and desirable that they will be demanded by consumers abroad in preference to the similar products of any and all other nations, and that in the face of this demand foreign legislators will not legislate against them.
Andrew Johnson was being impeached about this time. So, did the farmers think that Johnson was a goat or a scapegoat?
September 14th, 2004 | Science & Natural History
1867, November, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
A musician of this city has contrived an apparatus which he calls a “Pianautomaton,” and which is designed, as its name implies, for automatically playing upon a pianoforte any piece of music desired. The instrument is described externally as a box of the width and length of the keyboard to which it is clamped. Through a slot runs the piece of music which is to be played, and which has this peculiarity, that all the notes are perforated through the sheet. The box has a crank which sets in motion a magneto-electric apparatus and by its means a series of axial bars protruding below the box, strike the pianoforte keys and correctly perform the musical composition indicated by the holes in the paper. This contrivance rather belies its name in that music is ground out, as in the better known street instrument of humbler pretensions; but in another form, the apparatus is entirely self-acting, the insertion of the perforated paper causing a small lever to come in metallic contact, thus completing the electric current, the instrument then continuing to play until all the music paper has passed through the aperture, when the lever being no longer held up, the circuit is broken and the performance terminated.
The axial bars strike the key notes with four different degrees of strength, either with a legato or staccato touch, and with a suitable connection with the pedals, all degrees of musical expression are attainable. It is apparent that this instrument can be made to produce effects of execution which no living artist could think of attempting. For example, a chromatic scale in octaves, thirds, or tenths; or produce the effect as if four, six, eight, or more hands were performing. There is no hesitancy in “reading at sight,” and the variety of pieces need not be a limited repertoire, like a hand organ.
The inventor unnamed here is not Edwin Votey, who invented the Pianola — one of the earliest commercially successful player pianos. He was about 11 years old when this article was printed. Did he read it and get inspired? Unlikely, since PC&FV is from Ann Arbor, and Mr Votey was in Detroit. Close now, but a day’s drive in 1867.
But you never know, do you?
July 3rd, 2004 | Science & Natural History
1867, December, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
A fiddle improves by age and use; a piano does not, neither does a bell. There is, perhaps a slight improvement for the first few years, but afterwards the quality deteriorates. Metal, we know, is altered, by repeated and long continued hammering. Thump a piece of iron, and you change the quality of its magnetism; the shock of the waves modifies the magnetism of an iron ship; and some of the music is knocked out of a bell by long continued use of the clapper. A peculiar effect is noticed in the bell of Cripplegate Church when it strikes twelve. The first two or three strokes are distinct and clear, then a discord begins, which accumulates with every stroke, until with the eleventh and twelfth a complete double sound is produced.–Chambers’ Journal.
If you follow one of the links above — bell — you’ll find out that whatever bells were there in 1867 were destroyed in 1940. They were replaced in 1954.
And another random walk… Chambers’ Journal was published from 1832 to sometime in the 20th century (I can’t find an end date!). The Dec 19, 1908 edition published the first poem of Raymond Chandler “The Unknown Love.” Yeah, the writer of hardboiled mysteries who asserted in The Big Sleep that “Dead men are heavier than broken hearts” wrote poetry. Since I don’t care to read poetry, you have to decide for yourself if it is incongruous.
June 29th, 2004 | People
1868, April, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
Dr. Skac of the Morningside Asylum in Edinburgh, says in his annual report that among the patients who died last year was one who had been in the asylum for 29 years, and was a thorough gentleman. He possessed considerable humor, was an excellent player at bowls and billiards and whist. He displayed the most singular delusion of any man he (Dr. Skac) ever met. He asserted that he was upwards of twenty thousand years of age, and described the pre-historic period of the earth, during which he had witnessed three floods greater than Noah’s. Noah, he knew very well, and described him as a nice lad when he knew him first, but as having latterly fallen into dissipated habits. He has commanded numerous large armies at various periods, and for the last three or four thousand years was Agustus J. Caesar (his usual signature) commander-in-chief of the Roman armies. His anecdotes and imagination were inexhaustible, and a large book might be readily filled with the history he gave of himself and his time during his long, imaginary and eventful life.
Bill already has a copy of this article (one of the earliest I transcribed). However, I know something that he doesn’t…
“Dr. Skac” is more likely to be “Dr. Skae”. At Distributed Proofeaders, this typographical mistake is called a stealth scanno and denotes a word that is incorrect, but would still pass a spell-checker. Skac would have passed our editor in 1868, since he didn’t have spell-check and probably wasn’t familiar with Scottish names.
Sometimes listed as “David” and sometimes as “F,” Skae was one of the earliest directors of the Asylum, later known as the Royal Edinburgh Hospital. He apparently had a particular interest in classifying mental illnesses.
As for Mr. Caesar, well, who knows?
June 14th, 2004 | Science & Natural History
1868, March, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
The [Rutland (Vt.) Herald][] relates a remarkable instance of telegraphing under difficulties, that occurred on Monday last. A train on the Bennington and Rutland Railroad had got stuck fast in a snow bank three-quarters of a mile from Shaftsbury, and could neither proceed nor back out. There was no means of telegraphing for assistance, and but for the opportune presence of Mr. John M. Hills, a telegraph operator who was on board, the dilemma would have been an unpleasant one. At his suggestion a messenger was despatched to Shaftsbury for a piece of wire. This obtained, a telegraph pole was climbed and the conducting wire cut. Then Mr. Hills affixed the piece of wire to one of the ends of the telegraph wire, and by striking the end of this against the other end of the telegraph wire formed a circle and communicated to the officers of the road at Rutland their condition, asking that an engine be sent to their assistance, which was at once despatched, and succeeded in getting the blockaded train out of its difficulty. Mr. Hills received the answer to his despatch from the Rutland office by placing the end of the wire on either side of his tongue, and receiving the shocks in his system.
I suppose it was a fairly low voltage wire in 1868. Still… no one today would be able to make a cell phone work by sticking it in their mouth. Communication technology has advanced well beyond our capacity to understand how it works, let alone use the component parts in an emergency. Call me a Neo-Luddite, but this inability that most of us have to grasp the fundamentals underlying essential aspects of our technological society is frightening.
May 25th, 2004 | Science & Natural History
1868, February, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
Some curious information in regard to the shower of meteors which occurred in November last, was obtained by observations made at the National Observatory in Washington. The brighter meteors appeared at a height of seventy-five miles above the earth, and were extinguished at a height of fifty-five miles. The average length of their path was twenty-two miles. During the thickest of the shower, they were counted at the rate of three thousand per hour. Their velocity was forty-four miles per second. The thickness of the stream from north to south, was sixty thousand miles; and it is estimated that there was forty thousand meteors to a lineal mile, or one meteor to every nine hundred cubic miles of space. Prof. Newcomb believes that Tuttle’s comet of 1866, which these November meteors follow, is itself simply an agglomeration of meteroids, just dense enough to be visible in the solar rays; and he thinks that the same is true of the other telescopic comets. The November shower next year will begin at 10 o’clock A.M., Washington time, and will, therefore, only be visible on the Pacific Ocean.
The meteors in question were undoubtedly the Leonids, and apparently in 1867 they were a pretty good show.
Prof. Newcomb is most likely Simon Newcomb, a mathematical astronomer who was a professor at the U.S. Naval Observatory and later became director of the American Nautical Almanac Office. He wrote popular books on astronomy as well as his scholarly works.
This article cites Newcomb as an authoritatve source for the coment/meteor connection, but it was actually Giovanni Schiaparelli who made the connection between the comet and the subsequent meteor showers. Schiaparelli was also the person who first described the caneli of Mars, the mistranslation of which led to the Lowell Observatory and lots of science fiction stories.
May 14th, 2004 | Science & Natural History
1868, January, Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant
From the Newark (N.J.) Advertiser
Mr. Zadock Deddrick, a Newark machinist, has invented a man; one that, moved by steam, will perform some of the most important functions of humanity; that will, standing upright, walk or run as he is bid, in any direction, and at almost any rate of speed, drawing after him a load whose weight would tax the strength of three draught horses. The history of this curious invention is as follows: Six years ago Mr. Deddrick, the inventor, who is at present but twenty-two years of age, conceived the novel idea of constructing a man that should receive its vitality from a perpetual motion machine. The idea was based on the well-known mechanical principle that, if a heavy weight be placed at the top of an upright slightly inclined from vertical, gravitation will tend to produce a horizontal as well as vertical motion. The idea was unsuccessful. However, by observing carefully the cause of failure, persevering and perfecting the man-form, and by substituting steam in place of the perpetual motion machine, the present success was attained.
The man stands seven feet and nine inches high, the other dimensions of the body being correctly proportioned, making him a second Daniel Lambert, by which name he is facetiously spoken of among the workmen. He weighs five hundred pounds. Steam is generated in the body or trunk, which is nothing but a three-horse power engine, like those used in our steam fire engines. The legs which support it are complicated and wonderful. The steps are taken very naturally and quite easily. As the body is thrown forward upon the advanced foot the other is lifted from the ground with a spring and thrown forward by the steam. Each step or pace advances the body two feet, and every revolution of the engine produces four paces. As the engine is capable of making more than a thousand evolutions a minute, it would get over the ground, on this calculation, at the rate of a little over a mile a minute. As this would be working the legs faster than would be safe on uneven ground or on broad street cobble stones, it is proposed to run the engine at the rate of five hundred revolutions per minute, which would walk the man at the modest speed of half a mile a minute.
The fellow is attached to a common rockaway carriage, the shafts of which support him in a vertical position. These shafts are two bars of iron, fastened in the usual manner to the front of the carriage, and are curved so as to be joined to a circular sustaining bar, which passes around the waist, like a girth, and in which the man moves so as to be faced in any direction. Besides these motions, machinery has been arranged by which the figure can be thrown backward or forward from a vertical nearly forty-five degrees. This is done in order to enable it to ascend or descend all grades. To the soles of the feet spikes or corks are fixed, which effectually prevent slipping. The whole affair is so firmly sustained by the shafts and has so excellent a foot-hold, that two men are unable to push it over, or in any way throw it down. In order to enable it to stop quickly it is provided with two appliances, one of which will, as before stated, throw it backward from the vertical, while the other bends the knees in a direction opposite to the natural position.
An upright post, which is arranged in front of the dash-board, and within easy reach of the front seats, sustains two miniature pilot wheels, by the turning of which these various motions and evolutions are directed. It is expected that a sufficiently large amount of coal can be stowed away under the back seat of the carriage to work the engine for a day, and enough water in the tank under the front seat to last half a day.
In order to prevent the “giant” from frightening horses by its wonderful appearance Mr. Deddrick intends to clothe it and give it as nearly as possible a likeness to the rest of humanity. The boiler, and such parts as are necessarily heated, will be encased in felt and woolen undergarments. Pantaloons, coat and vest, of the latest styles, are provided. Whenever the fire needs coaling, which is every two or three hours, the driver stops the machine, descends from his seat, unbuttons “Daniel’s” vest, opens a door, shovels in the fuel, buttons up the vest and drives on. On the back, between the shoulders the steam cocks and gauges are placed. As these would cause the coat to set awkwardly, a knapsack has been provided that completely covers them. A blanket, neatly rolled up and placed on top the knapsack, perfects the delusion1. The face is molded into a cheerful countenance of white enamel, which contrasts well with the dark hair and mustache. A sheet iron hat with a gauge top acts as a smoke stack.
The cost of this “first man” is $2,000,2 thought the makers, Messrs. Deddrick & Grass, expect to manufacture succeeding ones, warranted to run a year without repair, for $300. The same parties expect to construct, on the same principle, horses which will do the duty of twelve ordinary animals of the same species. These, it is confidently believed, can be used alike before carriages, street cars and plows. The man now constructed can make his way without difficulty over any irregular surface whose ruts and stones are not more than nine inches below or above the level of the road.
1 Do you think delusion was the right word?
2 $2000 in 1868 equals about $25,000 in 2003 dollars. Cheap! I bet Asimo cost a lot more than that and doesn’t do as much work.
This article is almost certainly a presentation of a fictional story as straight news. (A later, related, article is posted at Notional Slurry.) Unless, of course, the readers of the PC&FV were already well aware of The Steam Man of the Plains, which was first published in 1865. There are differences, of course, between the Steam Man presented here and the one in the story by Edward S. Ellis, but they are not relevant.
Ellis wrote a bunch of dime novels, as well as a biography of Thomas Jefferson, and it is difficult to find any full bibliography of his works. There are 8 books in the Project Gutenberg Archive, but I get the impression that there are more they don’t have.
You know, I took a class in college on the History of Science Fiction. We read Frankenstein, of course, and watched Metropolis, and I even knew that Karel Capek “invented” the word robot but I have never heard of The Steam Man of the Prairies until today. I think I’ll go read it now.